Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Don’t sweat the small stuff. . .

Did anyone ever tell you not to sweat the small stuff?  Today I really needed to hear this.  I just never knew it would pertain to strawberries.

I took my kids (and a couple extra) to the strawberry patch.  We had one hour to pick 3 flats of strawberries.  For those of you who haven’t been blessed with a  local patch to pick ur own, a flat is  a metal thing that holds your berries in a cardboard box for you.   It holds just about 1 million strawberries in it.  Okay, not really, but it seems like a lot when you’re pickin em.   We were put on 5 different rows by the sweet little girl working at the farm.   Why, you say?  Well, there were 5 of us.  Makes sense, huh? 

Now, we’re not the best strawberry pickers.  We miss a lot.  We pick too fast. I like great big strawberries.  Fills up the flat faster, right?  There were no great big strawberries.  There really weren’t even any big strawberries.   And, the bugs like strawberries too; so they had been eating them pretty good.  So, sitting in the muddy strawberry patch, we were doing our thing when an elderly man came up to me on a golf cart.  Now, mind you, we had to walk to the patch.  Why does he get a golf cart?   Bella and I were picking back to back on 2 different rows.  I would occasionally see a really good one that she missed.  Being the great mother I am, I would reach behind me to get the one she missed.   He asked me which row I was picking on.  I told him the situation, Bella behind me on one row, me on the one in front of me.  He proceeded to tell me that because we only had one flat, we could only pick one row of berries.  HUH?  I wasn’t aware that there were such vicious rules in the fields.   He said he saw me reach around and pick out of another row (Bella’s row don’t forget) and that they really don’t like that. 

Instantly, I wanted to defend myself.  What are you talking about?  I even wanted to say a bad word but being the Godly woman I am, (really I just didn’t want the kids see me to get irate) I just said, your worker told us which rows to pick and gave us two different ones even though obviously we only have one flat.  He said, he would talk to the worker.   I really wanted to say, “What difference does it make.  If we pick on two rows, you will just have some of the rows left for someone else to pick?  I think he was just made cuz he thought I was “row cutting”.  I thoroughly expected to be ejected from the berry patch.   Or even have the cops called on me.  This man was MAD. 

I told him we were almost finished anyway and that was fine.  

So, instead of sweating the small stuff, I just thanked God that I am healthy enough to take my kids (and a couple extra) to pick strawberries.  I am thankful that I have the funds to do this.  I am thankful my car will get me there (even if I would have liked a golf cart ride to the patch).  I am so thankful that my kids get to stay home with me so we have these opportunities.    

I apologize for not getting a picture of the kids in the patch.  I’m sure they’re rules against that so I didn’t chance it.  100_5498 

And, even if I did step on a few berry plants on the way out (sorry), Life is Good.   And, man those berries sure taste sweet.

God Bless.

3 comments:

Angie said...

It's the Patch Nazi! LOL

Seriously, there must be a class they go to, because here in Middle Tennessee, we experienced the same thing!! They sorta check up on you and yell at you if you "do it wrong" 'n whatnot... HOW can you pick strawberries WRONG, i ask you!?!?!?

Ah, well, good for you for keepin' yer cool - someone had to be the bigger person! :^)

Loving learning at Home said...

Thanks, Angie. I say the same thing. I really wanted to just leave my berries sit and walk away. But, then I knew they would sell them for three times the money and get me to work for free. AHHH.

Michele said...

Well that is just crazy! We pick here in NJ and have never had that problem. What difference does it really make. You're picking and paying for them. They're all strawberries! Crazy!

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