Yesterday afternoon, we decided to go strawberry picking up at Rulf's Orchard in Peru. It was a gorgeous day, but just a little hot and humid. I only picked one container full before the heat started getting to me, and then I went and sat in the shade of the van with Kathy, Kinsey and Colden.
Picking berries was hard this year. They were tiny, and you really had to bend down and look under the leaves to find any of them. An intense smell of warm strawberries came from the rows of plants, and in places where the berries had been crushed or nibbled or started to rot, it almost smelled like strawberry wine. (Fermented strawberries, yikes!)
Tom asked when the blueberry picking started, and the attendant told him that we could pick blueberries right now, if we wanted to. I think we might do that this weekend, if it's a little cooler - I don't think I can handle standing out in 85 degrees again to pick blueberries. Kind of gives me a whole new perspective on the whole issue of migrant farm workers. It's one thing for us to go out there and do it for fun with the kids, but for the people who do it to earn a living, that has got to be a hard job. After less than an hour, I thought I was going to pass out from the heat - what about people who have to stay out there all day?
Anyway, I don't want to get into a whole other social issue today. It's too hot, and I'm too tired, and I have too many other things to do today. But maybe after we go blueberry picking, I'll get into that can of worms, so to speak.
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