One of the best things about summer in Maine is fresh strawberries (also, raspberries and blackberries) and fresh sweet corn on the cob. Sadly, none of these stay around for more than a couple months at best, so you have to strike while the iron is hot and make it to farmer’s markets before everyone snatches them up (especially the berries around this house…the little goddess devours them).
Or you need to go pick your own.
Pick-your-own berry farms are pretty accessible in the state, and so yesterday me and the wee deity girl went to one about a half-hour away while mom was busy at work (truthfully, it was a work day for me, too, but I work from home and I hadn’t yet gotten pages to proof, so my morning was free).
Now, certainly, my back was in agony after about an hour. My right knee, which had been sketchy for a couple weeks, wasn’t too happy either. But at around $2.25 per pound, it was worth the trip, the time and the pain, as a quart-sized container can cost around $7 at a farmer’s market. With the 18.5 pounds the goddess and I picked during our hour there, we probably got at least 10 quarts for $41, so yeah, that’s worth it. Especially when your wife can make a kick-ass strawberry sorbet, now a strawberry lemonade as well, strawberry shortcake…oh, and freezing some for smoothies as well as putting a bunch in the fridge for snacking.
My wife took one for the team and did all the slicing off of the leafy tops at home, since the little girl and I did all that time in the hot sun and sweaty humidity.
Here are a few pics:
My girl, doing what she does best during one of these outings…eating strawberries while I’m busy picking them. Still, I will give her credit for picking about 2 pounds worth of our haul (I think I’m being generous) as well as providing me with conversation/comic relief.
They look so sweet and innocent, these bushes…and so low to the ground and unfriendly to middle-aged bodies. Believe me, after only an hour, I can say that whatever their pay, farm laborers should be paid more, even if it means my grocery costs go up.
This is what 18.5 pounds of fresh-picked strawberries looks like. I had them mounded pretty high in that flat. In half an hour of driving back home, only two rolled free. I may suck at a lot of things, but packing and space management aren’t two of them.