Fieldwork

When I was quite young (maybe 5 or 6 years old), my mother took me along with some of our extended family to pick strawberries in the u-pick fields on the Saanich Peninsula. I couldn’t tell you which farm it was, but I do remember being handed an empty 4L ice cream pail and shown which berries were ripe and ready to pick.

When I started, they all went into the bucket but as the time wore on it got to be one for me and one for the bucket. Then two for me and one for the bucket. And so on. After we’d weighed the total and the berries had been paid for, we climbed into the car, berries packed in between us. We pulled out of the farm along the bumpy dirt road and that was all it took.

I barfed up a torrent of strawberries.

After the initial “Oh NO!” and a quick stop to clean me up and open all the windows, I mostly recall everyone laughing about it as I hung my head out the window like a dog, trying not to puke again.

I don’t think I consciously made a choice not to u-pick again, but the incident had enough of an impact that the activity didn’t make it back on my to-do list until this past weekend.

Happily, I was able to resist eating the berries as I picked. Between the three of us we gathered a little over 9 lbs in about an hour of careful picking. The car smelled amazing on the way home — there is really nothing like fresh berries.

Once home, about 5 lbs went straight into the freezer, IQF style. More were prepped for strawberry shortcake desserts. Some are still in the fridge for smoothies and snacks and a few went to my Mother in Law’s.