Raspberry Season

Paul and I sat down to watch the news this past Tuesday evening to catch up on the day's events and find out the forecast for the week ahead. We're on holidays right now and the weather has been absolutely glorious...beautiful sunny days with no end in sight. Wednesday looked like it would cool down a bit with a break in the humidity and no chance of rain 'til Monday, so I decided that would be the day to go up to Buckhorn to pick raspberries. Riley had even agreed to come along. Without much prodding. Not sure what was up there 'cause her forehead wasn't even warm. Must have been something internal.

Wednesday morning dawned bright and beautiful. The humidity had broken and it was the perfect day to do a little work outside (like berry picking is work). We took the scenic route 'cause, well, there is no other route and arrived mid-morning. Ri took one basket, I grabbed another and we combed the bushes for bright red berries. Oh. It was wonderful. The birds were chirping, Ri and I chatted and laughed, joked and picked. Even the ominous dark cloud to the north didn't feel threatening. After all, there was no rain in the forecast until Monday.

Ooooh. Berry scary.  heh-heh-heh

We had about two-and-a-half baskets filled when the wind picked up. Looking skyward, we noticed that the ominous dark cloud was right above us and then, the cloud opened up and the downpour began. We ran to a row of trees and joined the other folks who had probably watched the same weather forecast that we had - you know, that one that said there was no chance of rain 'til Monday. Ten minutes later (maybe it was only five; it seemed like fifteen), the ominous dark cloud passed and we emerged from our pathetic little shelter completely soaked to the skin. Talk about drowned rats. I thought it was hilarious; Ri, on the other hand, had straightened her hair to come picking ( *rolls eyes* ) and was therefore unimpressed. We walked back to our raspberries, which at this point were looking ever so clean and water-logged, and topped up the third basket. Since I had no plans to make jam this year - Cameron has kicked his daily raspberry-jam-sandwich-habit and won't go near them now - we called it a day and went back to the weigh-in station. The woman at the till was kind enough to deduct some of the weight due to the water (on the berries, not us), she added in the flat of pre-picked strawberries (pick-your-own season ended a week ago), I paid up and Ri and I hauled our treasure to the van. We drove home with the heat on.

The dehydrated treasure

The next two nights, the dehydrator hummed and we put away six jars of dried raspberries and two strawberries. Then I hid them from the three 'mice' who can't be trusted near them.

There's been no rain since.