Strawberry fields forever

You’ve all seen Forrest Gump right? Remember his friend Bubba? The one with the big gums who loves shrimp? That scene where they’re cleaning the floor with toothbrushes and talking about the never-ending shrimp menu options for their Bubba Gump franchise? Well, that’s been me and the hubs this week, except the shrimp looked and tasted a lot like strawberries and, well, toothbrushes have never met my floor.  Ain’t nobody got time for that.

You see, we visited a strawberry farm last weekend and after picking heaps of the sweet little suckers, have been riding a red sugary high ever since.

“Strawberry smoothie, strawberry pancakes, strawberry shortcake?” hubs asks.

“Strawberry jam, strawberry icecream, strawberry pie,” I reply in my sweet southern drawl.

“You can boil them, pan-fry, deep fry, stir fry, even bake, sautΓ© and barbecue them,” he retorts.

I smile a big red smile, complete with strawberry pips {seeds? bits?} between my teeth and turn a light shade of strawberry.  I know I’m done, and so offer, feebly, like Bubba, who can’t quite believe the shrimp well is also empty “yep, that’s about it”.

Picking strawberries is joy.  It is simple, old-fashioned fun.  Happiness all squeezed into one red little love heart shaped pop.  Or in our case, 270 pops, but we’ll get to that later.  Perfect for kids but, you know, even if I wasn’t a mum I think I’d love it just as much as an adult.

We chose a fantastic day, Father’s Day in fact, because I like hanging with my two strawberries doing things other than drinking coffee and eating breakfast, which is our normal Sunday morning ritual.  Of course, we did that too but it was short-lived, especially as I inadvertently set the fire alarm off and, well, we WON’T get to that later.

Cue quick exit and a 40 minute drive north with a takeaway coffee in the car.  We were off.  Perth changes very quickly from suburbia to rural out that way, and I actually thought we’d taken a wrong turn after driving for what felt like ages before we found these magic words in a field.  Is this what heaven looks like?

To my surprise there were A LOT of cars obeying that sign.  {Who would have thought strawberry picking on Father’s Day was totally a thing?}

Even though lots of other Dads and their families had the same idea as us, we pretty much had the place to ourselves.  The farm was massive.  Literally strawberry fields forever.

After paying $10 for our tray, we simply just chose our row and started Operation Strawberry Hunt.

Still in his fireman’s outfit after the morning’s events…

Mr O knew to leave the green ones…

They’ll give you a tummy ache!

And to only choose the red ones…

Even if it meant picking from another row…

Before we knew it, this totally happened…

But there was still room for more!

I’m actually not sure how it happened but we hauled home 270 of the juicy little suckers. Yes. TWO. HUNDRED. AND. SEVENTY. STRAWBERRIES. FOR. TEN. BUCKS. Plus countless more that we ate right there in the field.

And the taste? Hands down THE BEST I’ve ever had.  The ones that are ripe for picking are literally ripe for eating.


Turns out the farmers are doing us a favour by not selling them to the shops for a commercial profit as these fields have technically reached the end of their commercial viability.  You see, the ones sold to the shops are a little under ripe; sure they still taste good, but they are not plump and juicy and red and bold like the ones we brought home.  If you’ve never done this before you haven’t tasted strawberries in their prime. You haven’t lived.  I told you this was heaven.

Hubs and I had a bet to see who could find the biggest and of course he did {and kept reminding me that size does indeed apparently matter!}.

  
So, what the hell do you do with TWO. HUNDRED. AND. SEVENTY. STRAWBERRIES. FOR. TEN. BUCKS, you ask?  Well, I’m not sure about you, but I did this…

He is totally stealing, not helping!

And then this…

 

The life cycle of a strawberry!

And then we gave them away! As much fun as Operation Strawberry Hunt was, turns out that Operation Strawberry Giving was actually the best part of the day.  Being Father’s Day we caught up with more family that afternoon and it felt so sweet to hand out bags and bags of fresh strawberry kisses.   I told you strawberry picking was joy and joy is a gift worth giving.

Mr O even took some to share with his class on Monday!

  

Of course we kept a stash for ourselves. And, you know, all of a sudden, I’m feeling pretty lucky that my toothbrush has never touched the floor.  It’s been getting a workout and a half this week keeping those pips {seeds, bits?} at bay.  Minted strawberry anyone?

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