Last weekend we went on our annual blueberry picking trip.
This time of year always brings out some anxiety in me. I'm always very concerned that the short blueberry season will slip by me before I have a chance to pick the mass quantities that I always hope to have stored up in the freezer for the hot summer months and beyond. (We like to make smoothies with them during the summer.)
It's difficult to coordinate the blueberry season (this year it was early since it has been so warm) with an available weekend for Peter and I with childcare. And, in fact we were only able to coordinate two of those things this year: blueberry season and an available weekend.
We brought the kids with us. We had arranged childcare but it fell through. So, I knocked my expectations way down regarding how many blueberries we might end up with. I told myself I would have to be content with whatever we got and just try to enjoy the experience of being together with family and doing something fun outdoors.
We did considerably better than I expected, picking nearly 20 lbs in two hours! It was a team effort. Peter held Isla and tended to John and picked while I primarily picked. I am a fruit picking machine. It's about an hour drive to the orchard so I know it's pretty much a one-shot deal because we're not going to drive out again. For someone who's generally pretty relaxed about life (despite my recent-onset type A personality), I can really get into the zone sometimes.
Side story: Peter, being an ophthalmologist, he constantly filters his world through a lens of Things With Which You Can Poke Out Your Eye. Sticks being high up on that list. Lurking in every tree and bush, where a non Ophthalmologist sees benign twigs, Peter sees an army of lancets just waiting for an eyeball to impale. So, his biggest fear is John poking his eye out with a stick.
John, being a little boy, his life very nearly revolves around picking up sticks. (I'm telling you, girls are different. John has a lot of little friends that are girls and they do not pick up sticks.) Basically John's and Peter's universes are antithetical to each other.
The result is their worlds repeatedly colliding, producing paroxysms of "John put down that stick!" followed by tears (usually John's).
And, mind you, some of these sticks are mere wisps of straw that couldn't hurt a ladybug's eye. But in the world of Ophthalmology, you should never walk, or even make any movements, no matter how subtle, with anything narrow or remotely sharp in your hand. So, the obvious thing to do is for everyone to wear safety goggles at all times and that would solve a lot of Peter's problems. (It also would ruin his job security, so don't pass this info along.)
Well, I think I've covered a sufficient breadth of topics in this post. I can't think of any other unrelated sundries to add so I suppose I'll call it a day!
Wait, I did think of something completely unrelated and yet very pertinent: Go Spurs, Go!
*This title does not refer to all the blueberries John ate while we were picking berries; the orchard allows customers to eat and pick. As the picture illustrates, it refers to him snatching them off the counter while I was trying to dry them before freezing. I thought I should clarify lest anyone think I'm encouraging John to steal. :o)