Maryl, for the last few months, has been promising me a very special treat. She has been singing the praises of Ontario farming for a while, and I believed her with all the gusto of a wee one dreaming of santa claus.
But just like every boy's fantasies come to life on Christmas Eve, when they hear raindeer clawing their way down the chimney, screaming in pain when they hit nails and get caught in stones, so too did my dreams embrace reality last Saturday.
Saturday, the blessed day of strawberries.
It was a quick drive, about 25 minutes north, to the McLean Strawberry picking farm.
Do you see that? People are picking their own strawberries! This is a new concept for me. One might even call it "novel". Was it a novelty?
After getting our pails ready, we were all set to go spend an hour picking picking picking!
I know, he's wearing the same shirt - I promise, we have more than one!
Holden was the best at picking - and by picking, I mean, grabbing strawberries...
and then, bypassing the pail altogether -- popping them right into the mouth!
It looked like so much fun, I thought I might try one. I was a bit concerned about... dirt...
Or maybe it's my best impersonation of a squirrel! Nom nom nom.
Aren't strawberries neat?
I think we overdid it though...
The idea was to... eat strawberries until we burst. I think we accomplished part of that goal, in that we now have 40 pounds worth of strawberries (bought at 1$/pound). Jams, smoothies, on ice cream, on cereal, in crepes, or just plain ole popping them into our mouths; strawberries are definitely not a "sometimes" food here!