More berries

Steve and I just went for a visit with his folks in upstate New York. On the way we stopped by Joolz in Canandaigua to say hi to Francie and Kerry Bogert, who was having a trunk show and demonstrating flamework. Hopefully next time I can meet Kerry for margaritas, but it was fun to say hi, catch up a little, and hit the road for the final leg of our trip.

The next morning it rained, then was sunny, then rained some more. Normally I wouldn't have cared, except anyone who knows me knows I love berries, and this is strawberry season in NY. There is a you-pick farm on every other corner! So during a break in the clouds Steve and I headed down the road to Morgan's Farm to pick some berries. We'd collected 7 quarts before I stood up and said, "I think that's enough. What are we going to do with all these?" And then it rained again, so we went home.

Here are Matt and Bob working on the lawn tractor in the barn.

Also in the barn there is a nest of swallows almost ready for flight school. Cutest. Thing. Ever.

Later I was walking Riley in the family orchard when I noticed there are cherries! on the tree! this year. (They knew this, but it's not a big deal to everyone else.) Ripe ones, and lots of them. They're called tart cherries, but they are sweet to eat. (When I think "tart cherries," I think of the bright red ones Cheryl and I bought from a vendor in Barbados who assured us they were sweet to eat - turned out to be the tartest cherries I'd ever tasted!) So we picked a quart of cherries off the tree, plus some red raspberries which had just begun to ripen. And then I died of happiness. The end.

Saturday night is always Mexican food, so Cherie makes enchiladas, quesadillas, or tacos. This week it was tacos with your choice of fried-corn or flour shell, two kinds of cheese, several hot sauces, lettuce, tomatoes, and chili beans (two sets, one for each end of the table). I started thinking about this meal (and drooling) weeks ago because it's always so good.

I have an inordinate love for Wegmans, and being that the closest one to our house is an hour away, we always go to Wegmans in NY as there is one in practically every town. It's not just a grocery store, people! Sheesh. This time we didn't walk up and down every aisle, but we did get coffee and stroll through the market part and the cheese shop and the kitchen gadgets and the bulk candy and the craft brew section (arranged by region like wine). I got some rhubarb which may or may not have survived the trip home in the trunk, some French lemonade for my francophile friend Elizabeth, and a measuring cup with a slanted edge to make it easier to read.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have 8 quarts of fruit to deal with. Bliss!