We get there shortly after 7 am and already the fields are dotted with enthusiastic pickers. The sky arcs blue overhead and birds call from the surrounding trees. After a quick stop to ask where we should pick, we head over to a likely spot. Soon we are squatting between rows of berries. Our feet sink into the soft earth. I squat and reach in between the leaves, brushing them back and forth searching for sweet, red strawberries.
“I always think of Jamberry when I’m picking,” I comment to Kurt soon after we start, “but I can never remember how it goes.”
We throw out a few guesses at lines, in fits and starts, trying to latch on to the rhythm…
“Boomberry! Zoomberry!”
“What a jam jamboree!”
We never do find it, but enjoy the effort and sharing the attached memories of long ago book reading and berry picking with our children.
Berry picking is as much about picking and sharing memories as it is about picking strawberries. It’s sort of Zen–quiet, voices murmuring, the soft thunk of berries into our containers, occasional laughter, bird calls. The sun warm on our shoulders. Soon, with our hands busy, our minds still. We lapse into comfortable silence. Once in a while, we say something profound, like:
“Oh, here’s a beauty!”
or “Look! This one’s the Queen Strawberry!”
Soon my hands and wrists are drenched with the chill of morning dew. Every so often I pick a strawberry that is already warm from the sun. A little solar powered juice factory. The contrast between cool, dew-soaked hands and the warm flesh of the berry, captivates me. I let these berries linger in my palm for a moment. Roll them back and forth, savoring their gentle heat. I mention this to Kurt.
“I feel a blog post coming on,” he says.
I laugh.
He knows me well.
After we get home, I make batch after batch of strawberry rhubarb jam. Lulled by the sun and the good vibes, we overpicked. It’s a good problem to have.
Later that afternoon, when I’m holding my four-month old grandson, I lean in close to him and whisper, “And when you’re bigger, I’m going to take you strawberry picking and we’re going to make jam!”
And the next day, I label all the lids and put the cooled jam jars into the pantry cupboard. Each one contains a feast of sweet berries and memories, and the promise of more to come.
I make a mental note to look for our copy of Jamberry, or to order a new one.
I’ll be needing it.
Nix the comfort zone 
Kurt was right. Your experience is contagious here – – I’m wanting to make strawberry jam! This paragraph absolutely stalled me and I read it again and again because of the rich description and the sensory imagery and feelings: Soon my hands and wrists are drenched with the chill of morning dew. Every so often I pick a strawberry that is already warm from the sun. A little solar powered juice factory. The contrast between cool, dew-soaked hands and the warm flesh of the berry, captivates me. I let these berries linger in my palm for a moment. Roll them back and forth, savoring their gentle heat.
Just wow! And just to imagine the taste of those berries and that jam! You sliced a real winner today – – no pun intended!
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Thanks so much, Kim! Now comes the fun of eating the jam–and giving some away!
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So much to savor in this post! And you have me wanting the Jamberry rhythm, as well. The movement back and forth in time and the snippets of interaction are masterful. I loved Kurt’s comment about a slice coming on.
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He does know me well! I’m definitely going to search our our copy of Jamberry and if I can’t find it, I’ll be ordering a new one!
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The very best part of berry picking is finding ‘that perfect berry’ to pop into your mouth. And then making jam preserves-one of my favorite things to make. 🙂
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It’s funny, Debbie, but I didn’t try a single berry, and neither did Kurt. I guess we prefer them in jam. I have such vivid memories of my mother-in-law and my children enjoying berries as we picked though!
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Oh, how I loved going into the strawberry field this early morning with you, feeling the cool dew and warm sun, lulled by the quiet and the task! Great sensory descriptions. And your including Jamberry and telling us about your grandson adds depth to your experience, as we share in your happy plans for the future.
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It’s a while away, but I love the thought of taking him berry picking!
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Future strawberry picking with your grandson! That will be a delight in the anticipation and the execution. So glad he is close by. We have a Great Maine Scavenger Hunt destination of going to a strawberry festival. We’ve chosen the local one in South Berwick on June 27th. And the big question. Is today the penultimate day of the school year?
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Although I have decades of strawberry picking behind me, I have yet to attend a strawberry festival! I’ll look forward to reading about yours. And in answer to your question, we are in school until Monday, June 22nd.
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This is a truly delectable post. I wish strawberry picking were a thing here. Love all these pictures, and those jars of jam! WOW! I’m amazed. I look forward to reading about strawberry picking w/ your grandson some day.
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Thanks, Glenda! I love making jam and was worried I might miss the fleeting berry season as we’re heading out of town soon. I’m so thankful the fields opened for picking this past weekend (and that I’d written report card comments early!).
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I’ve gone berry picking before, so you had me right there in the row with you and Kurt. But that ending. Tears welled. The tradition will continue. Oh, my heart!
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So many things to look forward to!
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Ah – strawberry picking in Maine in June – what could be better? I used to read Jamberry to my preschool classes and we’d go berry picking and make jam. They would recite Boomberry, zoomberry as we prepared the jam. You’ve brought me back to a happy time – thank you. And I agree with Mary – that ending brought me to tears. Your grandson is a very lucky boy!
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Jamberry is the best! My youngest (almost 29!) remembers the words far better than I do, and we did a more creditable job reciting it a year or so ago when picking raspberries.
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What a delicious post. I keep thinking I’m going to take my grandchildren blueberry picking but the window is at the end of May and we were on our vacation. I remember one summer when I got some of your jam. Was it birthday or poetry exchange?
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I didn’t even realize that blueberries grew down your way! They are not ripe here until late July or August. Re: the jam, I’m not sure when it was, but I think it was probably a summer poetry exchange.
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I love how you take us from picking through your thinking and tasting to cooking, saving and reflecting on the whole wonderful day. Your post is like a book in and of itself!
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Thanks, Anita! It was a lovely day. Berry picking days tend to be that way!
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Molly, your slice is filled with the beauty of nature and the excitement of picking. This line makes me sit and pause about your “sweet berries, memories, and the promise of more to come.”
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Thanks, Carol. There’s something pretty special about berry picking and jam making.
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