Sun-Ripened

It's been a lovely weekend: dinner dates, farewell parties, film projects, softball games, wading pools and more. The best part of the more? Berry picking!

My paternal grandmother had a giant, no, GIANT garden that included raspberry bushes and grape vines. I have many fond memories of shoving handfuls of berries into my mouth and consuming grapes unripe and ripe. The unripe grapes were power pills that my cousins and I deemed the source of our superhero power: one must suffer to return to full strength. Raspberries were their own pain-free delight and continue to be so today:

Our generous organic gardening downstairs neighbors mentioned that the raspberries were ripe and needed all-hands attention. We were happy to oblige. Nothing like picking berries in your own backyard...

...especially when you can pop 'em right in your mouth. That's a milestone everyone should achieve, whether in babyhood or adulthood. We picked more after arriving home tonight because they are delicious. Nora is well on her way to understanding the difference between ripe and unripe (or snack and power-recharge).

I cannot wait to arrange a berry-picking outing with other small fry we know (and their parents). Plunk, plunk, plunk!

And now, Nora reads! (Until she notices the camera, that is.)