"Because Mom knows how much fun migrant farm work is," Zorak replied to the children's queries. Yes, we're going berry picking, which sounded significantly more fun in my head than it did when Zorak explained it. Thankfully, he lives with his tongue mainly in his cheek, and it was fun.
The farm also grows muscadines, which of course I referred to as "grapes". And was sorted out right quick on the difference. (I know the difference. I just fail to have a significant level of awareness to remember to differentiate. Six years, you'd think I'd have developed some sensitivity to Southerners and their agricultural affections. I'm trying. I really am. But in my defense, I have yet to find anyone who makes muscadine wine - which might help cement the image in my head - and, let's be honest, they do look an awful lot like grapes.)
James had a blast narrowing down all the minutiae of the ripest, sweetest, best berries for picking. This kid loves things on a level most of us don't even know exists. He will never mistakenly refer to muscadines as mere grapes. He is awesome. He also picked the best berries, and we will all enjoy the benefits of his attention to detail, tomorrow afternoon, in a pie.
Since it's neither healthy nor interesting to be too focused on any one thing, the kids found all kinds of interesting creatures: spiders, ants, and a caterpillar or two. There's one on the fence. Honest. Although I do love John's caption idea: "Is this thing electric?"
Thanks to serendipitous timing, we had a full bucket right about the time we realized we're all dehydrated and it's only getting hotter. The kids were still in high spirits, so we decided it's best to bail before the crew decides to mutiny. We checked out, bought some wonderful local clover honey, and came home to enjoy the a/c and blueberry pancakes.
And that was this morning's adventure. My timer just beeped, and now I must move on to the next adventure of the day -- time to clean. The rest of the crew knows it's better to run errands with Dad than to stay home and clean with Mom, so I've got the house to myself. True, this means I have no help, but it also means I can crank my music without any external mockery to hamper the enjoyment. ;-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
4 comments:
We went to the blueberry farm on Wednesday, where the children were informed that they'd not be leaving until I had fifty pounds of berries. :-) They made their goal in 1.5 hours, all the while chatting up some highly amused strangers the next row over. It was good.
Time alone to clean the house actually sounds wonderful! :)
Did I ever tell you about my folks friends in Mt. Pleasant who made Muscadine Wine? The people with the pet Blue Jay, pet squirrel and the peacocks that roamed their little paradise in the Piney Woods? My mom says I always called them monkey dimes. I thought they were otherwise known as wild grapes.
I like the new template. Great pictures too!
mere
Jannie, you are my hero! I should have given them a goal. We were way too distracted. I think it took us the same amount of time to get six pounds. @@ Oy!
Emily, it is. Oh, it so it. :-)
Mere, I love "monkey dimes"! How cute! I hadn't heard that story before. I think the muscadines do grow wild in some places, and they've been cultivated b/c of how readily they'll grow. I'd never seen them until we moved here.
I wonder if they are considered wild grapes, as well? When I think of wild grapes, I think of the vines of tiny purple grapes that grew along hedgerows on my walk to school - they were more like the grapes most people are familiar with. Food is cool. Food history is really fun.
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