I've been telling my husband about this strawberry farm in our county and yesterday he finally entertained the idea. This is how it all started:
My husband ends a phone call from his parents and comes out.
Hubby: (calls me as he's opening the bedroom door) Do you know the process of picking strawberries?
Me: Yeah! You pick strawberries from bushes, hence picking strawberries.
Hubby: No do you know the process of picking strawberries? What you have to do to pick the strawberries?
Me: Yeah babe! You pick out the strawberries from a bush. It's like this tall (I put my hand next to my waist showing him how high the strawberry bush is in my head)
Hubby: No! They are on the ground. You have to get down on your knees and hands to pick them out (gets on his knees and hands as he's demonstrating what he's saying)
Me: Oh hell no! I am not getting down! NO WAY!!! We'll just buy the ready ones, the ones that are already picked out. They sell picked out strawberries so that will be perfect, because I am NOT getting down!
We get there after driving about 45 minutes outside of town. We get in this barn turned into a store and the place is packed - of course it's 3pm on Sunday. We look around really quick to really grasp the atmosphere and then we wait in line to buy the already picked out strawberries.
Lady behind the register: How can I help you?
Hubby: How much are your picked strawberries?
Lady: We sold out and we won't have any for the rest of the season. We're just having pickers.
You should have seen my face! I was in disgust! Not because they were out but because I was thinking "how in the world will I get down on my knees and hands with this skirt on?"
I stayed in front of the lady with my facial expression glued on my face and then finally I realized my husband is long gone and out of the barn. I run after him to catch him.
Me: Wait, where you going?
Hubby: Well, what do you want to do? I am not picking my back hurts.
Me: Oh no, we drove all this way and I have been waiting for this for so long so I can make strawberry jam and we leave without strawberries? No, I am picking if you don't mind.
Hubby: Go ahead I don't mind, but I am telling you, you will last all about 30 minutes.
Yup! That quick I changed my mind and I was committed to pick strawberries for my strawberry jam, but my husband was right (as always) I lasted half an hour and I was sweating like I just came out of a steam room.
From the amount of strawberries I picked out, you can tell that I am not able to make my strawberry jam after all (sad face). I have my eyes out for next season, because next season, we will go early to pick out and I will make my daughter pick them out - teach her to love gardening and not be afraid to get muddy like I do. Yup, I'm afraid that my nail polish will come off or dirt will find confort underneath my nails. Don't judge me, I grew up in cities all my life until my husband introduced me to the country life.
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