If you have never picked berries with children under thirteen, you have missed one of life’s treats. And you don’t need twenty-three children: fewer will do. Though Dr. McDade tried hard to leave Mount Zion before 10:00 a. m., the two vans left for Carnation and Remlinger Farms at 10:40 a. m. When we arrived, Mrs. Acox, asked if the travelers were hungry. Of course, they were although Dr. McDade warned that we would be picking berries as the temperature rose. They ate.
We separated into several groups after some students got a brief guide on which berries to pick. They could have picked at least twice as many berries had they not run back and forth to show one of the adults how big a berry was. They compared their big berries to others’ berries. One said, “I love to pick strawberries; I love to pick raspberries!” Said another, “ I love to pick anything!”
Somebody wanted to know if it had been this hot the one day Dr. McDade picked cotton when she was thirteen.
One was disappointed when Dr. McDade did not remember he had come last year. They talked about the jam “they” would make. They ran over to other groups of students to show how many berries they had picked. And they loved tasting the berries. Not one complained to Dr. McDade about the heat. What Dr. McDade did not know was that Mrs. Acox had told them they had to fill their boxes. Many of them were working to do just that. We picked $127.60 worth of berries, almost sixty-four pounds!
Dr. McDade was determined to get strawberries though the season had ended, so she asked the young cashier where the strawberries were and if they could see them. Some of the children had not seen strawberries growing. She and about half of the gang traipsed over recently plowed rows to the strawberry fields. Corn, that one was certain was wheat, was between the strawberries and raspberries. Of course, we found berries, not many, not big ones too often. But once one person tasted one and exclaimed how sweet it was, all of them searched more diligently. We managed to almost fill some of the little boxes. The Remlinger cashier did not charge us. By this time Dr. McDade did not dare mention blueberries.
We drove to the farmhouse store where we got water and looked at the produce and beautiful yard.
Then we were off to Boehm’s—for some of the best candy in the world. Selecting one treat from among so many was not easy, but we managed to get an array of candy. How often do we get to Issaquah?