Sometimes we wear knee pads. It's ridiculous, but we're serious about huckleberry picking (i.e. my dad is quite serious about huckleberry picking. I, on the other hand, set time limits. It's a tedious task, something I'd imagine to be somewhat akin to illegal child labor in sweat shops). Protection really is a necessary thing, though. Next time I'll wear full body armor + goggles to prevent the mosquitos from attacking me or the branches from poking me in the eye (ouch).
We pile into the truck or onto the motorcycles / four wheelers (depending on how exotic the chosen locale is). Yes, yes, of course we have customs stickers for the cars.
Danner is always invited, although she eats right off the bushes. She hasn't been trained to pick yet. I say yet.
The more stained your hands are, the greater success you've obviously had (although you should be gentle with the berries, of course).
The result? The prettiest pie I've ever seen (topped with lots & lots of whipped cream).
Or just a snack for the dock.
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