Last Saturday was one of those days. It was hot but not too hot. We didn’t have much gas in the tank, but we had an itch to get outside and do something nice together.
And so we drove out to Lockbriar Farms to pick strawberries. We picked a few, ate a few, picked a few, ate a few. And then, Kato stopped and made an announcement. He had found the weirdest strawberry in the world. We paused and came over to investigate.
It was hard to argue with his conclusions.
We put the weird strawberry in the bin along with all the others. Soon novelty gave way to plenty. A whole lot of anything good is rather exciting. Especially when you are three and five, respectively.
We drove home, deposited our harvest in the kitchen, and found ourselves not quite entirely depleted. And so we took out the super bike and headed out again, first to Subway to fetch a picnic dinner, and then to the bridge by the college to eat it.
By the time we reached our destination, the smallest among us had had enough.
Our efforts to revive him were in vain.
And yet, being a family driven by democratic principles, we decided to move forward with the picnic plans.
…while August dreamed of who knows what.
Alden, who had just that morning been promoted from green belt to green belt with orange stripe in her ongoing study and practice of Tang Soo Do, showed us a few of her new “forms.”
Eventually, our sandwiches were gone. Eventually, August made a triumphant return to the land of consciousness. Eventually, the sun set, as it does at the end of every day.
But Saturday was a particularly good one of its kind. Quiet, simple, blissfully unremarkable. Free of drama. Full of smiles. Well-spent with the people I love best.