And in typical me fashion I found the camera the next day, on the floor on my car, of all places. It must have fallen out of my bag. And so, although I could not find the camera to take to the beach, it was actually at the beach with us. Irony at its best.
Luckily I had our camera for berry picking the week before because I think these pictures are pretty darn cute.
I grew up picking berries on my grandparents' land in upstate NY. Gram and Pa always had empty Cool Whip containers or such to toss the berries in. We'd walk 3 minutes to the berry bushes and get to work. My Great Aunt Gertie would help too and she'd have her pants rolled up clam digger style. I loved every minute of it.
Now, I must admit, we are new to the berry picking circuit in Oregon. We drove 45 minutes to a local "Family Favorite Farm" (per the advertising) with hopes of pounds, and pounds of berries, tractor rides, and wholesome family fun. We got the wholesome family fun part, but not much else. In fact, we are so new to the berry picking circuit that we didn't even realize we should have brought berry containers. This farm had none. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Not even an empty Cool Whip container like Grandma and Pa.
|One for me, one for you.|
|Fred Meyer saved the day!|
|Sunny blue skies.|
|Family Favorite? We were the only people there.|
|Stay away from MY berries or else.|