Guys, you would not believe the scene last weekend in our little agricultural corner of CoCo County.
Now, we wrote last time about our latest foray to pick cherries and strawberries. It’s our third season here, and we’ve always heard the legends about Memorial Day being the unofficial starting pistol to U-Pick frenzy. That’s why we always jumped on the weekend before: Sure, the cherries might not be as dark, but we at least avoid the fabled crowds.
Man, the legends are true.
Last Sunday, a full week after the U-Pick starter’s pistol sounded, Kathy and I went to gym, she for a yoga class, me to swim and sweat out the week’s booze in the sauna.
And then we decided to venture closer to home to pick fruit. Armed with enough cash to do the do (U-Pick is a ca$h-only deal), we used our Farm Trail Map to discover what was open seasonally.
The peaches at Pomeroy Farm were ripe and plentiful, and despite the one-lane road, relatively accessible despite the comings and goings of clueless drivers.
Check out Kath’s photo: the fruit was just begging to be picked, and twisting a peach off its stem was a breeze. Of course, one peach weighs a lot more than a handful of cherries, so even at a bargain $2 per pound for 20 minutes work, Kathy surrendered $36 worth of folding dough-re-mi.
And then it gets goofy. We motor to the other end of the street and experience that “U-Pick Uh-oh” moment. We literally could not travel across the main drag on the same road due to all the vehicles turning off said drag to hit the farms.
Dude, we saw carpool vans full of would-be pickers, even a school bus obviously rented for the occasion. We finally made it across the intersection, but when we glimpsed the parking-flag-sporting attendant working her auto-centric semaphore magic up ahead, we realized that it was time to bail. Making a right turn still took us 10 minutes.
By then it was time to head back to Oakley and bask in 18 ell-bees of fresh peaches.
Kath and I can fully dig that fruit ripeness waits for no one, but, in CoCo, a U-Picker is going to have to wait for everyone. At least after Memorial Day.
I’ve checked its date on the 2013 calendar, and the alarm clock is already set for 51 weeks.