Berry Frustrated

My husband is home from work today. My children are home from school today.

What does that mean?

It's time for a Caventure!

(definition: 1. noun. an adventure that usually goes awry simply because we are the ones embarking on the adventure. SYNONYM: Misadventure)

Camera? Check.

Sunscreen? Check.

Hats with wide brims? Check.

GPS? Check.

Adventurous spirits? Check (x 6).

It was gonna be a great day. We (well, really, um, I) decided that our Memorial Day would be spent in the strawberry patch. I read an article about Strawberry Hill USA (Cooley Farms) in the most recent issue of Southern Living, so we (well, really, um, I) thought that strawberry picking sounded like a fun family activity. After all, it was only a short drive from our house. Why not?

Famous last words.

Halfway to our destination Lillian got oh so grumpy and started yelling that the movie playing in the van was TOO LOUD. We turned it down a hair. "IT'S STILL TOO LOUD!" This went on for about 10 minutes. Finally, my hubby stopped the car, turned off the kids' movie and started back towards home. See, once Lillian gets sleepy grumpy, there's no dealing with her. He decided he'd rather try again another day than have to endure her whining. It'd be a LOT easier.

After the groaning and crying and pleas to please turn around Daddy! died down, Lillian fell asleep. Miracle of miracles! We turned the car around and made our way back to the strawberry patch. Lillian awoke refreshed and ready to pick some strawberries.

We drove around this complex of red roofed buildings, but couldn't figure out where we could select our own berrylicious treasures. My husband finally went inside and asked for some instructions, but he was told that the only "picking" we could do was in the market part of Strawberry Hill. You can choose this bag or that bag, but you can't pick 'em out of the ground.

Hmph.

We bought 2 huge bags of strawberries and a large bag of peaches, sampled all the samples there were to sample, and got back into the car. So much for our strawberry picking dreams.

After all that driving and whining and grumping, you know the funniest part?

There's a freakin' "You Pick 'Em" strawberry patch a mere 3.7 miles from our house. Take a right turn out of our neighborhood, drive 1.7 miles, turn right, drive 2 miles and THERE IT IS.

You know how far we drove to Strawberry Hill for what amounted to the world's most expensive strawberries (once you factor in the cost of gas)?

60.2 miles round trip.

The berries are good, though. Sweet and ripe. Perfect for cobblers. Just not worth all that time and gas money.

Next time I'll just pick up a pound for $3 at the grocery store. And I need to cancel my subscription to Southern Living. It costs way too much.

(I did get some great photos. See below! Click on them to see larger versions.)









Oh, and if you own Photoshop and can make Quinn appear in that photo above, I'd be your best friend. He was in the car peeing in a cup when it was taken. Classic Quinn.