I spent the morning picking strawberries with the three littler boys
and the afternoon making stacks and stacks of strawberry-lime jam.
Every time I visit a farm, a sense of great peace and well-being descends upon me.
I guess, although I never lived on a farm growing up, the farm-girl genes in me are still going strong!
Sam and I want so much to have a backyard mini-farm.
I have visions of our boys spending summers tending our orchard and then earning money at a roadside produce stand.
Depending on where we end up settling down, that may not be a reasonable option.
We may have to resign ourselves to a few fruit trees and a big garden
and that will be okay, too.
And, as I'm reminded by the mud that clung to our shoes, it will be a lot cleaner, too!
Sometimes my romantic ideals fail to take into account a whole lot of yuck involved in my dreams.
For now, I suppose I should be content to visit farms and enjoy the fun of reaping the harvest.
Halfway through our visit the rain started coming down.
We stayed for a while, and then the wind started making an eerie rattling noise that indicated that something massive was about to begin.
We made a dash for the car and drove home through buckets of rain and wind and lightning that struck frighteningly close. The car kept hydroplaning and I was pretty white-knuckled as I drove.
But the strawberries were totally worth it!