Posts Tagged ‘Fruit’


English: Blueberries.

English: Blueberries. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A few days ago I made my mom’s Blueberry Muffins.  They were gone in less than 18 hours.  The plan was to make them again yesterday after picking some up after the girls got home from school and The Mister gave me the checkbook to run a couple of errands.  When I came home I put them in the fridge, hidden, and ran next door to feed the neighbor’s bunny and check to make sure their house was secure.  I was gone for maybe 15 or 20 minutes.


When I came back, Gracie was standing at the front door with an empty blueberry tin.  Well, it was nearly empty.


“Look! There are four mushy, stale blueberries! Yuck!”  and she looked a little nervous, like she’d been caught in the act.

“Wow! Is that container from the blueberries we made the other day?”

“Um, I… um…”

I realized I needed to change tact a bit.  She doesn’t quite understand the concept of time the same way we do, so “the other day” could mean “a year ago” to her or it could mean tomorrow.


“Remember when we made blueberries a few days ago? We made blueberries on Monday.  It’s Wednesday.  Is this container from Monday?”

::squeaks:: “I don’t know!”

It’s time to try a different way again.


“Gracie, are those the blueberries I just bought today? Did you eat the whole thing?”


“But… honey did you eat the blueberries that were in the fridge? All by yourself?”

::squeaks:: “I don’t know!”

“I was going to make blueberries with them, but if you ate them it’s okay to tell me the truth.  I’m happy you got fresh fruit into you.  I’m just surprised you ate the whole thing.”


“Okay, but I can TELL you ate them all! Your lips are blue! It’s just better to tell the truth.  That way you won’t get in trouble.”

She gripped that pint tin for dear life, her knuckles white, her eyes desperate.  I thought she was desperate for me to believe that she hadn’t eaten all of those blueberries on her own.  I really was fine with the fact that she ate all of them.


::with tears::  “I tell the troof.  I not ate them all.  There are four mushy ones!”

It’s all in the details, Mom.  It’s all in the details.





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Have you ever just wanted to bang your head against the fricking wall and just wanted to put everything on pause?

Like when you have a sick child and you just want it to be over for her.  And when you give her the antibiotic in liquid form because the pediatrician decided it was better and faster-acting than the tablet, she yonks it all up on the kitchen floor with the mint chocolate you let her swallow it down with because she has gag issues and conditioning issues when it comes to liquid medications.  And you have to call the pediatrician at 8:00 PM to insist that he call in the tablets rather than force her to continue taking medication that will make her barf, and he’s not happy about it even though it’s his fault that he didn’t listen as your nearly-11 year old was begging him in his office earlier that afternoon to give the tablets and not the liquid.

Like when the dishes seem to multiply in the sink like rabbits.  And Mount Laundrius explodes in a lava flow of clothes all of a sudden and what used to be only a load or two to do has turned into six.

Like when you notice a certain other person is in a bad mood and you ask, “Honey, what’s wrong? Is there something I can do?” and you get the grumpy reply, “Nothing. Everything is fine.”  Clearly everything is not fine, but you’re expected to decipher the grump or be a mind reader.  So you have to let the bad mood cycle because that’s what you hope someone would do for you.  (Edit:  Luckily you did do this because it all works out and you get a charming “I love you” after a nice catch-up conversation 🙂 )

Like when you find the Death Bananas that are causing the Fruit Fly Outbreak of September 2011.  Oh, disgustingness.  Putrefied, liquified bananas hidden behind a bowl of… get this… fruit.  And then it gets better.  The fruit flies found my red potatoes and turned them into Death Potatoes.  My brand new bag of potatoes.  ::sigh::  I hate The Smell of Death.

Like when your youngest comes up to you and says, “Mommy, the toilet broke!” and she proves it by holding up the toilet seat and lid.

Like discovering someone has been messing around with the temperature setting on the fridge and the fruit bin has frozen veggies in it that have turned brown and mushy.

Like getting a phone call during your eldest child’s sick day from her soccer coach to inform her that she didn’t make the school’s soccer team.  And you feel guilty enough that you let her break her month-long grounding to play her DS for a while because she’s sick and sad.  That’s the worst.

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Lyman's Orchard

When I was a kid my parents used to take us every September to pick apples, sometimes a couple of time, and it was always early in the morning.  I used to whine and complain about how early it was and how I had to wear a sweatshirt and jeans to stay warm.  I hated that there was still dew in the long grass.  I hated it all… until I took my first crunchy bite of a morning-chilled apple and got into picking.  Truthfully, I enjoyed every moment.  I just didn’t enjoy waking up so early on a Saturday morning.

Now I know why we got up so early.  I mean, I knew but now I know.  Yesterday we took the girls to Lyman’s Orchards in Middlefield, CT to pick some peaches since CT is smack in the middle of peach season.  We were going to picnic, but it was hot and humid, threatening to rain the entire time.  There were bugs.  BUGS.  The orchard, uh, people had the fly catchers in the shape of apples hanging in trees down every row of apples and peaches and they were just covered in nasty little critters.  There was fruit on the ground literally baking in the humid sun.  The girls, The Mister and I had fun, but honestly I was grumpy because we were all wilting in the heat and humidity and everyone’s deodorant had clearly failed.

But the beauty around us was breathtaking.  These orchards are truly incredible.  It’s not just a few acres, but so many acres that they’re further than the eye can see full of rolling hills.  Every kind of fruit that you can find in CT spread out before us in various stages of growth, picking, seeding, and tilling.  It was gorgeous.  All of the roads we drove were part of the orchards and there simply to get from one part of the property to the next… some paved, some gravel… but each and every one filled with a country scene that are worth vacationers visiting while in the area.  I live here, I’ve seen that view more times than I can count and my breath was still taken away.

In my town and immediate neighboring towns, as well as my home town, there are a lot of farms.  My current town is stuffed with farms of every kind including orchards. I don’t think I ever really appreciate it until I became a parent and made friends with people who own some of these farms.  I appreciate living in a state that can get so much of its fruits and vegetables and dairy and meat and produce from its own farms and orchards.  I hope my girls grow up with this sort of appreciation.

It’s not just something white people like. Especially since now I have some delicious, crispy apples and peaches for pies, crisps, danish, tarts, and straight old eating.  You can’t get any more fresh than picking your own.  It’s worth every penny, especially when it costs less than buying it from the grocery stores.   🙂  And I got to spend some time with my family and take in some gorgeous scenic views.

Not to mention we stopped in the market and picked up some treats from their bakery.  The girls got cupcakes while my eldest and The Mister shared a blondie, and I had my favorite Lyman treat: an apple cider doughnut with cinnamon sugar.  Cue mouth-watering.



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