Berries... Oh, God, the Berries...
This is now officially the longest berry season I have ever partaken in. The tenth of July marks day twenty-three, and usually we are done by day seventeen or eighteen.
This means that we have either gotten so damn good at producing and managing fruit that we deserve medals, or that we should just close the damn farm down because WHO THE HELL SPENDS TWENTY THREE DAYS DEALING WITH FRUIT?
I've been pining for my horse lately, a fact that is slightly sad and I think sort of nice. I'm so thrilled to have a horse who I just can't wait to get back to. At the same time, I'm wondering what it says about me as a person that I could care less about finding a real job, getting my car back on the road, and re-uniting with my endlessly cranky cat.
We are still waiting on a farrier to come and fix up his shoes, and because he has been shoe-less, my dad hasn't ridden him since I've been gone, either. I am such a twit because I've been sitting in the Berry Cave at break time bemoaning the fact that my poor boy is without a shoe like a penniless mother upset over her barefooted children.
At any rate, there is nothing to complain about at this point in time except, perhaps, the fact that the Berry Queen has been helping herself to my Molson Canadian. I have to stop and ask, here, does it not seem a bit inappropriate for an American Citizen to be guzzling down beer with a label that clearly says CANADIAN on it?
I think is does FOR SURE.
This means that we have either gotten so damn good at producing and managing fruit that we deserve medals, or that we should just close the damn farm down because WHO THE HELL SPENDS TWENTY THREE DAYS DEALING WITH FRUIT?
I've been pining for my horse lately, a fact that is slightly sad and I think sort of nice. I'm so thrilled to have a horse who I just can't wait to get back to. At the same time, I'm wondering what it says about me as a person that I could care less about finding a real job, getting my car back on the road, and re-uniting with my endlessly cranky cat.
We are still waiting on a farrier to come and fix up his shoes, and because he has been shoe-less, my dad hasn't ridden him since I've been gone, either. I am such a twit because I've been sitting in the Berry Cave at break time bemoaning the fact that my poor boy is without a shoe like a penniless mother upset over her barefooted children.
At any rate, there is nothing to complain about at this point in time except, perhaps, the fact that the Berry Queen has been helping herself to my Molson Canadian. I have to stop and ask, here, does it not seem a bit inappropriate for an American Citizen to be guzzling down beer with a label that clearly says CANADIAN on it?
I think is does FOR SURE.
posted by Amanda at 23:54
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