It has been a few years since my last strawberry-picking adventure. My remaining memories from my last visit: red-stained fingers, pants, and eating warm, overripe strawberries in the fields.
We went to a farm I have been to previously for apple-picking in the fall, and arrived as the farm opened for the day. After paying the entrance fee and a thorough spritz of insect repellent, we were aboard the wagon to the strawberry fields.
As usual, the edges of the fields were well-picked, and it took a bit of walking to find areas with more plentiful fruit.
One of my favourite parts our my last visit to the strawberry farm was to find the uniquely shaped strawberries; usually the whole plant would carry the same gene, so all the fruit are of a similar shape. To my disappointment, this visit comprised of mostly classically-shaped strawberries, though I was able to find a couple of more interestingly shaped specimens.
It took about twenty minutes to fill my 2-litre basket, and we headed back to pop them in the cooler, and then settled in for a breakfast of poutine.
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