Down the Spectrum

We seem to be moving down the spectrum this week: the color spectrum, that is. In reverse. Moving on from our violet and indigo, we're steadily into the blues today. Blueberries, to be exact.



Blueberries were not on the agenda this morning. Then I walked out our door into a perfectly breezy, seventy-degree morning. Next thing I knew, I was making some sandwiches, packing a bag, and buckling a couple of kids into their car seats. Perhaps, I should have warned them about the lengthy car ride, which, apparently, wasn't on either one of their agendas. Luckily, my college psych teachers weren't kidding when they said the color blue creates feelings of calm. Subjects A and N calmed down instantly the moment we arrived at the blueberry patch and opened the car doors.

Perhaps, it's yards of tidy rows through which to run. Perhaps, it's the endless supply of snacks growing right at your fingertips or the companionship of other pickers (once strangers, but now called Emma, Mimi, and Randy) who seem happy to accept the berry offerings a little blond tosses into their buckets. It might ride in on the fingertips of a babe, brushing the leaves of a blueberry bush for the first time, or on the aging memory of a mama daydreaming of berry recipes tried and true. It could be in the lessons (as Randy answers your little one with a detailed description of how one could make a scarecrow), or the proclamations ("Mom, I want to live here forever!). Or the sweet sensation that leaves a mark on your tongue. Whatever the reason, sometimes the blues are oh so good.

Farm Fresh

We are hot and tired, and our quart containers are brimming with our success (well, not quite brimming, but it feels like success). We spent the morning tagging along with friends to a berry farm. On the menu: pick your own blueberries and black raspberries.

This was Audrey's first foray into berry picking (and my first time to pick blueberries). If you want to take your toddler berry picking for the first time, blueberries are a pretty ideal start. The taller bushes reach their eye level. The berries are easy for little fingers to pull off, without thorns or anything to prick them along the way. And, after a little explaining, they can pretty easily discern the dark blue ones from the green. (Oh, a blue or purple outfit to camouflage stains doesn't hurt, either).

Audrey's concentration bobbed between picking berries and chasing her friend, Michael, down the walking paths between the bushes. There is much to be discovered in a berry field: sticks; flowers; bugs; other kids, picking with their parents, who just want to be left alone and don't understand why a little blond keeps tailing them; dogs; more sticks; mom's water bottle. It's a bit of a hot, sticky adventure - one with a built-in snack.

If fact, the toddler years may be some of the best for dragging your little one around the berry farm, while they still have that odd internal thermometer that says 50 degree water is ideal for swimming and 90 degree weather is perfect for running around and performing manual labor.

As for me, after spending more days than I care to count quarantined inside in an attempt to keep incessant sneezing at bay, this trip seemed like a nice introduction back into the best of what summer has to offer. Deep purples and blues against a sea of green. The sound of kids discovering outside. Fruit so fresh it begs to be eaten before you can leave the field - before it makes it from bush to carton. Work with a reward so great, it becomes more of a quest than work - a scavenger hunt for fruit.

We left the field with some sun on our faces, some grass on our knees, and berries in the backseat. Tired in the best of ways. Thankful for some time outdoors and time among friends.

And then we journeyed home to find rest. And taste summer.