There was a message on our voicemail the other day.

“Good morning,” said a little voice.

Then, “How are you?”

It was a very polite little voice.

It’s strawberry season in south-eastern Ontario and my fairy godson, age 2 and 3/4, was calling to invite me out for the picking.

Or, as he knows it:  the eating.

strawberries, up close

I like strawberry picking, except for the bending and standing up (which makes me feel faint-ish) and the turning-my-head and picking (which makes me feel spinny-ish) and of course, there is The Nature to contend with.

But, how could I resist an invitation from someone who calls me “Auntie Kiss”?

Oh sure, my name is “Chris” and you might think this is his 2 and 3/4 year-old way of pronouncing my name, but even when he’s 14 and possibly slightly stinky and drama-tudinal, I like to think this will be my fairy godmother name forever.

Auntie Kiss.

(As in:  one who gives kisses and loves to receive them.)

Tra-la-la.

Is there a better name for a fairy godmother than that?   I think not.

So, after the lovely invitation, I met Fairy Godson, his Kitemama and baby Fairy Godsister at the patch.

It was soggy and muddy from all the recent rain, so we wore our rubber boots (one of us had new and very exciting firefighter rubber boots!) and squelched around in the mud in the parking lot.

Squelch, squelch, squelch.

You know how The Nature can get sometimes.   Verrrrry squelchy.

Then, we waited for the tractor to come and pick us up to take us out to the part of the patch we were picking.

tractor pulling a wagon full of people

It was a “big, DEEN TAK-TOR with a bucket!” and someone wearing new firefighter rubber boots was pretty excited.  We hopped on the wagon with our empty baskets and the giant, DEEN TAK-TOR tires squelched around the muddy trail to our patch of the strawberry fields.

Squelch, squelch, squelch.

Little boy, facing away from camera, squatting in strawberry plants

Then, we squatted in the field and searched for bright, red pockets of sunshine to put in our baskets.

Fairy Godson had two baskets because he knew to look for the “really red ones”.  He also knew how to deftly remove the stems, fling them into the plants, and pop the “really red ones” in his mouth.

Fairy godson tasting a berry

Squelch, squelch, squelch.

As you do.

Kitemama and I got going with the bending and standing up (which makes me feel faint-ish) and the turning-our-heads and picking (which makes me feel spinny-ish) and of course, The Nature had made everything sort of soggy but I was having a great time picking berries and squelching in the mud.

Fairy Godson guarded the berries for me, polite child that he is and soon, the DEEN TAK-TOR came to pick us up for the ride back.

Fairy godson with two buckets

Squelch, squelch, squelch went the TAK-TOR through the mud.

There was a little sprinkling of rain from The Nature but, we didn’t mind as we were already soggy and our new firefighter rubber boots were muddy anyway, and with a belly full of strawberries (at least one of us), we got off the tractor and lined up to pay.

baskets of strawberries at the till

 

And then, I had my annual, mild heart attack at the price of 8 scant litres of fresh, local strawberries.   But, I also remembered about the bucolic, vintage pleasures of the tractor ride and how good the “really red ones” taste and how many were in the belly of a small helper–and no doubt, countless other helpers across the field–and I opened my wallet and handed over the money.

Tra-la-la.

After a stint driving the play structure TAK-TOR at the entrance, we carried our treasures to the car.

Bye, Bye Kitemama and baby Fairy Godsister.

Bye, Bye Fairy Godson.

Bye, Bye, Auntie Kiss.

Squelch, squelch, squelch.

Not the mud, that time.

My heart.

Fairy godson, carrying baskets full of berries

 

Copyright Christine Fader, 2015.  Did you enjoy this post from A Vintage Life?    Share on Facebook       Tweet

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