When I was a little girl certain days in the summer were spent at local orchards. My mom would gather up us girl’s and my little brother and we would head off to pick what ever was in season.
Mornings and afternoon’s were spent gazing up into the tree’s laden with fruit. Reaching and picking. Tasting and exclaiming over the warm, juicy sweetness. Walking and dreaming under the shade of the fruit trees. Finding sweet relief from the ferocious summer sunshine. Giggling and chattering away the minutes as we picked God’s sweet gifts.
One trip in particular stands out for me and my sisters. A trip to pick sweet cherries, mid-June. In the driver’s seat my Dad. It wasn’t often that he was able to go on fruit picking expeditions with us. The whole family packed into the car ready for a couple of hours of sweet communion with nature and one another. Laughter and silliness was always included when dad was in our midst. And I’m sure us girls egged him on. I don’t remember many details of the day only a sweet serenity and a joyous hazy recollection of the day. A memory that I am partial to because my parents made it so.
Cherry picking came full force to my mind yesterday when I set out with my Daddy and two of my boys to pick Blackberries in his field.
Deep breaths were taken as we travelled through the fields. Peace was felt as the Cicada’s and Crickets sang us sweet melodies. Exclamations exuded on the beauty of the berries and the sweetness of their taste.
My mind flooded with memories.
Laughter among the fruit and heat. Joy at being together. Connections and memories being built for a lifetime.
Thank you Dad, for taking the time to build memories with your grandsons and me. You are a treasure to us and to all who meet you. I’ve never had a better time, head high in brambles!