It's not how many you pick, but how many you eat while picking

Not many people can play hooky on a weekday afternoon to go blackberry picking.

I realize that I am lucky enough to have more flexibility in my schedule than most. This is more often a blessing than a curse, and let me assure you that I work hard. In addition to being expected to be "in" during normal work hours during the week, I often work Saturdays and some Sunday mornings. And 10pm work calls have been known to happen with some frequency. (So have occasional 7am calls. Grrr.) And I am often up writing til well past 1 in the morning. It's not like I am slacking all the time. No, I just have an odd schedule. And take an occasional mid-afternoon nap. And any opportunity to share a picnic with friends.

When Todd invited me to head out to a local farm with his two young daughters on Wednesday, I couldn't resist. All he had to do was say the words "local berries" and "picnic" and I was in. Plus I needed to bulk up on my shrub-making supplies....

Soon after our arrival, I somehow let the 7- and 8-year-old talk me into being the one who held back the thorny blackberry and raspberry branches so they could pluck berries, unscathed. Sure, some may say that I was being bossed around by a second-grader, but tell me honestly, could you resist if someone this cute asked you to do the same?

Besides, the bramble cuts will heal eventually.

It is true that Shoshana and Claudia out-picked me in terms of what we hauled home, but I definitely out-ate them in the field. (I also out-spilled them in the car on the ride home -- doh!) It's not about who picked more berries, I assured them, but about enjoying the experience. Of course, that's what someone bringing home fewer berries would say....