I think it was the perfect weekend.
The weather was glorious.
There were strawberries and raspberries to be picked.
And some of them got sidetracked into a jar of brandy, for brandied fruits for Christmas, because one likes to think ahead.
The girl splashed around in the stream, horsing around on a Sno-Tube because we don't have any water floaties. She enlisted me: I tied a length of rope on with a bowline because I still know some knots and then she'd float through the rapids so I could haul her back upstream.
On the way home, we detoured past a farm stand that was rumored to have corn, first of the season corn. And they did, and it was good.
And there were fresh shell peas, and local bing cherries.
And because we were so out of the way, we detoured further, past some wonderful ice-cream in Hudson. I had fig. I would have fig every day if I could.
And when we got home, I added fresh bing cherries to the strawberry/raspberry/brandy concoction.
And we ate dinner on the back deck - corn, and peas with a little chiffonade of mint (they sang, really they just sang, those minted peas), and weisswurst procured at the Veteran Pork Store, in yet another detour. And while we were eating, the girl noticed that the patio tomato in the big pot on the deck had produced fruit. The first tomatoes of the season.
Corn, tomatoes, strawberries. Raspberries, cherries, peas. It's a good time of year for eating. And swimming. And basking in the sunlight. And walking barefoot on the grass.