To Fill My Bucket (or not)

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

COLORS

Judith Heartsong's Artsy Essay Contest Entry

http://journals.aol.com/judithheartsong/newbeginning/entries/1469

How does one choose a 'favorite' color? Is it through a mood, a likeness or simply, something one is born with.

I have always had a problem picking out a particular color to deem my 'favorite'. They add so much to life. Seasons tend to reflect particular colors in my life. Being that summer is days away, there are many senses at work, smell, touch, sight, taste.

RED!

Fresh picked strawberries, mmmmmm, how I loved to go strawberry picking with my mom and dad as a little girl.

We did that every year late spring, early summer.

The ritual was quite simple really. Collect as many ice cream buckets as there were people and add a couple 'just in case', get into the car and drive for what seemed like hours.
With the excitement in my belly, it was all I could do to ask, 'are we there yet'?

Usually there were about 5 of us that would go. You'd think that we would get just tons of strawberries but I will get to that.

You see, my mom would can them for jam, and topping for our big bowls of vanilla ice cream. So we needed A LOT.

Anyway, we would arrive at the strawberry place, check ourselves in and try to find the spot with the least people.

There were always kids running through the patch with red stained mouths,strawberry juice all over their shirts and bright red fingers, laughing and squealing. The temptation to go play was never a very big one for me as I was on a mission. To fill my bucket. (or not)
We would get to our perspective rows and commence picking.

So many red strawberries peeking out from beneath those deep green leaves. Oh how I was going to complete my mission.

Very little talking occured unless it was how good of a crop it was that year or how big the berries were.

Quite boring for a kid of 8 years.

In the heat of the blistering sun, we would pick and pick and pick for about two hours maybe three depending on how good the picking was.

But there was always something peculiar that would occur once my parents would say we were done.

My bucket never seemed to get past the 1/16th full mark. A single layer of red berries with spots of the white bottom of the bucket showing through. My father and mother toted two or three full red buckets. If my brothers came, theirs too would be nearly full but never mine.
Hmmmm, maybe it was just 'cuz I was littler or something.

I just couldn't understand it. I would get through two, three maybe even four rows but still my bucket "had holes in it".

Or so I would say.

Those lucious red strawberries were calling my name. Talking to me telling me to eat them. Especially those really big ones where the sweet, sweet, juice fills your mouth with the first bite. And since there were sooo many large strawberries talking to me, well, I just had to eat them.

One thing was for certain, my bucket may not have been full but my belly sure was. I was sure that my face looked as berry covered as the other kids and my shirt just as full of strawberry juice but my 'secret' mission was achieved. I had eaten all the biggest reddest berries I could find and left only those wee ones in the bottom of my bucket.

Needless to say, my father had a standing joke with me after our very first outing. He would tell me to make sure they weighed me BEFORE we went pickin' so that when we left and we had to pay that they could count the ones in my belly.

I continued to listen to those strawberries year after year and boy were they yummy! I just couldn't get enough.

As I stand on my deck looking down at my little strawberry patch now, I often think about those days. But I have to stop a moment to go down and pick that one large red strawberry that is calling my name.

Some things never change.....

Written by louie0768 .