With June finally here it feels like SUMMER.
We've had our first four-day heat wave already, and it actually made me happy.
Just thinking about our snowy winter makes temperatures in the 90s seem like a gift.
School is still in session but the pool is OPEN. Come swim!
(My allergies have kicked in--drippy nose, itchy throat; thank goodness for Claritin.)
We're winding up the Spring sports schedule and looking forward to some lazy, hazy days of freedom.
The garden is in. The watering and weeding have begun.
This morning I received a text from my no-nonsense brother. It said:
"Time to pick berries like a migrant farm worker"
"Are you going today?"
"So are you"
He has a way with words.
I accepted his invitation, put on my best migrant farm worker berry-picking clothes and drove windows-gloriously-open to Tougas Farm in Northboro. I found Rachael and Aaron just down the field from where I was picking, quickly filling flats with plump red berries.
We picked for just over an hour in a 65 degree sunny breeze.
It was PERFECT.
The kitchen smells like fresh strawberries.
There are 27.5 pounds of berries on the counter waiting to be washed and hulled. It's exciting to replenish our supply of jam and freezer berries. Next winter we'll open a jar of jam to spread on rolls, and it'll be June all over again.