One of my memories from our family vacations to New York was picking fresh fruit. Mmmmm….
Sister #1
Sister #2
Sister #3 (plus an add-on)
At the blueberry farm there this barn with a cool door.
And one more photo of the little guy … just ’cause.
P.S. I can’t believe it’s August already. I think summer was shorter this year.
These Words of Mine 
This reminds me of the time my parents were picking blueberries (or, more likely, huckleberries) in Jackson Hole, WY, where they lived. My dad noticed that a bear was picking berries off the same bush (on the back side). He cautiously told my mother, “Don’t make any sudden moves or anything, but there’s a bear eating off the same bush we are…let’s move slowly towards the car.” My mother screamed, threw her bucket in the air, and took off running for the car! So much for caution.
This is incredible. I, too, remember growing up picking blackberries and strawberries in Oregon as a kid. The way we made money for school clothes was picking pole beans (green beans) for 2 1/2 cents a pound. It was a big summer if we made $100.00, times I will never forget.