Freakin' Strawberry Picking

Katie R.

Joe and I have lived in New England for about 7 years now.  I feel like we’ve acclimated pretty well but there are two things that will prevent me from ever becoming a true New Englander:  air conditioning and fruit picking.

Here in New England people don’t use air conditioners and central air conditioning is unheard of.   I still find it so odd that people build new houses and don’t put central air in, but again I was born in the Midwest.  One argument is that it never gets that hot here and I call shenanigans to that, it’s supposed to be 95 degrees on Wednesday and Thursday this week and it’s only mid- June.  It gets hot and humid.  Anyways, we’ll probably never have central air but I promise this week we’ll have our “box” air conditioners running day and night.  

The other thing that I don’t love is picking fruit:  strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, the list goes on and on.  Joe loves it and Andrew does too and I know that people around here really consider it a great part of summer. I think it’s hot and buggy and you can buy fruit at the store.  The argument that it doesn’t taste the same doesn’t fly here either because the place we went picking on Father’s Day sells the strawberries at the farmer’s market where we go every Thursday so I can buy them there.  However, for Father’s day and because Andrew enjoys it I strapped a 20lb baby on my back, walked up and down the rows, had my hair pulled out of my pony tail and had strawberry juice running down the back of my neck.  Good times.

I do however enjoy our annual apple picking with friends, but that is because the weather is cool, the trees are beautiful and we get pizza and beer after it. Oh... and I don’t actually pick the apples I just take photos and talk with our friends. So maybe I’m become more of a New Englander.