Why I picked Berry Farming....
As I've recently started announcing to the world, it is now my goal in life to start my very own berry farm. This has raised some questions in the minds of those who know and love me. One of the main questions is "Why are you starting a berry farm if you hate eating berries?". This one is usually asked with a look of horror on the ask-ees face. Who doesn't like strawberries?
I have had the opportunity to be field manager at a berry farm for the last few years of my life. From these years of experience, I've learned that strawberry lovers are an odd breed. They are irate. They are cranky. And they apparently don't bother reading the signs that have pertinent information on them (Such pertinent information as "Open at 8 a.m. Daily" or the one that says "Picking Here Today". Berry eating types frequently arrive at seven a.m and help themselves to the wrong field.)
Berry pickers are also typically irate. They get irate when they say their berries taste like tar (Obviously, they know what tar tastes like because they pour it on their cereal each morning to save the cows of the world from being milked against their will).
They get angry over such offenses as having dirt in the fields (It has been screeched at me in the middle of a blistering thirty degree day that "I can't pick here!! There's DIRT here! I can't pick berries with dirt on them!") It seems that berry-picking types believe that in the real world, dirt does not exist out of doors, and it certainly should not exist in an area where the art of agriculture is taking place.
I've had cranky old men comparing my intelligence level to that of the tables that are used to display the fruit at the check out. I've had women help themselves to fields that are in the middle of being irrigated and have signs that say DO NOT PICK HERE and then been yelled at for asking these people to leave the fields.
I think that the reason I can't eat berries is that I've simply been traumatized against eating them. The fact is, I'm scared that becoming a berry eater will lead me down the path of becoming an irate, cranky woman in a straw hat stamping her feet over the presence of dirt in the great out-of-doors.
And so, my refusal to eat berries actually has nothing to do with the berries themselves.
I'm just scared of guilt by association.
Toonses
This post brought to you in honor of the one and only Berry Queen, who I devote my future profession to, and to whom I now offer an official invitation: What are you doing Berry Season 2010? *Smoochies*
I have had the opportunity to be field manager at a berry farm for the last few years of my life. From these years of experience, I've learned that strawberry lovers are an odd breed. They are irate. They are cranky. And they apparently don't bother reading the signs that have pertinent information on them (Such pertinent information as "Open at 8 a.m. Daily" or the one that says "Picking Here Today". Berry eating types frequently arrive at seven a.m and help themselves to the wrong field.)
Berry pickers are also typically irate. They get irate when they say their berries taste like tar (Obviously, they know what tar tastes like because they pour it on their cereal each morning to save the cows of the world from being milked against their will).
They get angry over such offenses as having dirt in the fields (It has been screeched at me in the middle of a blistering thirty degree day that "I can't pick here!! There's DIRT here! I can't pick berries with dirt on them!") It seems that berry-picking types believe that in the real world, dirt does not exist out of doors, and it certainly should not exist in an area where the art of agriculture is taking place.
I've had cranky old men comparing my intelligence level to that of the tables that are used to display the fruit at the check out. I've had women help themselves to fields that are in the middle of being irrigated and have signs that say DO NOT PICK HERE and then been yelled at for asking these people to leave the fields.
I think that the reason I can't eat berries is that I've simply been traumatized against eating them. The fact is, I'm scared that becoming a berry eater will lead me down the path of becoming an irate, cranky woman in a straw hat stamping her feet over the presence of dirt in the great out-of-doors.
And so, my refusal to eat berries actually has nothing to do with the berries themselves.
I'm just scared of guilt by association.
Toonses
This post brought to you in honor of the one and only Berry Queen, who I devote my future profession to, and to whom I now offer an official invitation: What are you doing Berry Season 2010? *Smoochies*
posted by Amanda at 23:52
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