On Saturday we drove to Hoot 'n Howl Farm, just outside of Boulder, to pick some raspberries.
The first week of school is always hard for me. I miss my little summer companion. It was nice to have her back all day long for the weekend.
I think D likes it too.
Western slope berries. And a kind dad, who says yes when his daughter says "Would you hold my pink bag for me?" That didn't stop me from making fun of him.
The farm is a wonderful place. It seems like such a labor of love. You can walk right out into the fields and pick, following the signs for which rows are open. Then you weigh your produce and pay for it on the honor system, putting cash into a little tin can. They had heirloom tomatoes and beautiful vegetables, apples and peaches for sale at their honor system farmstand. Now R knows where raspberries come from, and what hard, hot, thorny work it is to fill one of those little supermarket clamshells. And I have a lot of canning to do.
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