"We have to pray first," Boston said. Having no idea what he was talking about, I looked around for clues and saw this sign we were walking towards. Enforced at home, enforced at the Berry Farm. Funny how one little letter changes the entire meaning.
The berries are so soft. They are various shades of pink, purple, and voilet. They are beautiful little fruits. Walking down to the blueberry patches, we had to pass through the strawberry fields. The smell of the strawberries in the sun was heaven. Just like strawberry fruit leather. I sort of just wanted to hang out there and pretend these pristine gardens were mine. We are going to be making blueberry muffins with a crumble topping this afternoon for Sunday breakfast. We also sampled some homemade strawberry ice cream while at Adams Farm. It was a beautiful morning.
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