Summer bliss

"days that go on forever"

George set the alarm for this morning. We had made plans to pick strawberries with Abby the week before. I’ve been trying to remember the riddle that asks what walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three by night. It’s silly that I haven’t already googled it but lately my phone seems to know everything that’s on my mind and I’m creating some distance from it. The answer to the riddle is man. We crawl as babies, walk upright as we mature, and depend on a cane as we age. Something about being in the berry patch made me remember all the times in my life that I sat among the rows picking. As I crouched down in the first row of berry plants, memories from when I was a young child, my girls running up and down the rows, and friends that I had picked with came and sat with me. We had been smart, well at least Abby and George. We had planned to leave the house by eight, to start picking before the sun rose too high in the sky. The day was forecasted to land in the nineties in Maine and it feels like the heat will go on forever.

As George pulled into Butternut Farm I began recalling all of the times I had been there before. I looked over at him and smiled. This was our first time picking together. I spied Abby’s car parked, she was waiting for us. I waved. The morning felt calm and easy. The rain had all but subsided and we were in no hurry to get back. It’s a funny thing not having to watch over little children like I did for so long. You get to see so much more of the world, your attention isn’t focused on them and where they might be going, always scanning around for possible dangers. I looked at the empty containers waiting for us at the farm stand. I remembered the berries that were still in the fridge from George’s last shop. I reached for a smaller container, George grabbed an extra one. He doesn’t like fruit, unless it’s in an apple pie. I loved how he was getting in the spirit of the morning. I loved how he was showing up.

When I was a baby, I would crouch low to the ground and eat more berries than I put in the punnet. My memories are filled with the big red berries hiding behind the deep green leaves. The warm sun shining down on me. I can still taste the sweetness. When I was a mom, I would have one hand picking berries and the other supporting my weight so I could have one eye on what I was doing and the other on the girls. I remember feeling anxious, wanting to make sure they were safe and still being able to harvest enough berries to have for shortcake, jam, and snacking. Yesterday, I smiled taking in everything at the farm. Time moved slowly, I was able to see everything at once. We laughed and joked as we leisurely compared berries we found and carefully selected the ones we wanted to take home. George bought us fresh warm doughnuts. The three of us sat at a table in the shade and relaxed, it was still morning. I commented that I had never seen the farm like this, I had always been rushing, keeping an eye on the girls, making sure everything was okay.

Yesterday, everything was okay. Not because I was doing anything other than simply enjoying the day. There was nothing for me to try to control, nothing to make go my way. I was simply picking berries with two people I love. Life unfolds in stages. We have lessons to learn and ways in which we grow and expand. We travel through stages so we may gain unique perspectives on the same experiences had. Today is okay, I am here. I suspect tomorrow will be okay too. Life is smoothing out. Maybe it is me that is smoothing out. I’ve been taking account of where I am and what I’m doing lately. I’m learning that everything is a choice and if I don’t choose then I’m setting my life in someone else’s hands. Nothing has happened to me in my life that isn’t of my own making and choosing, even my childhood trauma. I was born into a place and time for a reason. I was given the opportunities to take accountability for my own actions and choices so that I may one day make better ones.

Choosing to accept my life as a whole, makes me accountable for creating a life I want to live. I am choosing to be someone that I can be proud of and feel as though I’ve lived a great life.

Butternut Farm - Farmington, NH