1 Mother 2 Another

Last Friday I pulled the girls out of
school early to go strawberry picking, an annual event we always
look forward to. We’re lucky to have an organic strawberry
farm just north of us here, and we pack a picnic and make a day of
it. The strawberries are EXCELLENT and the prices below grocery
store, so we always pick plenty to bring home and freeze for
canning and smoothies.


This year we may have over-reached a bit.


Maddie and Cora were able to really participate this year and did a
great job filling up a few buckets with very ripe strawberries,
while my mom and I worked diligently to pick as much as we could. I
kept remembering how we ran out of the thirty pounds we picked last
May by mid-July, and I was determined to pick more this year. I
sent the girls back to the farmer for extra buckets a few times,
and we ended with quite a haul.


Sixty-eight pounds, to be exact.

Yep, we came home with twelve LARGE
buckets of strawberries, and as I frantically worked to find fridge
space for them – thank heavens for our extra dorm-size fridge
– I remembered that now comes the hard part: washing, drying,
hulling, and freezing them.


All sixty-eight pounds of them.


Brian and I have been working hard since Friday afternoon and have
processed nine out of the twelve buckets. Our freezer is stuffed
with gallon bags of hulled, sliced strawberries ready to be thrown
into the blender. Our house constantly smells like sweet
strawberries, and my fingers are stained red.


I know I will be so happy about this in August when we’re
still happily frappe-ing away, but for right now it’s getting
a teeny bit old.


A teeny bit.