A couple days ago I went berry picking at a local farm.    The blueberry bushes are about five feet tall, and as you pick, sheltered under your particular shrub, you hear the conversations of the people around you.  Most people were there with families, complete with lots of little kids.  I heard innumerable Moms and Dads explain to excited elementary schoolers and toddlers to “only pick the blue ones, the pink ones are yucky!”  Generally after that would come a chorus of “Is this one a good one Mom?” and “Dad!  Dad!  I found a BIG one!”  Followed shortly by “MOM!  Eli HIT me!”

I heard many of the adults talk about  how peaceful it was to be out picking berries.  Mostly it was mothers who were out with their kids, chatting with their friends or relatives while the kids crawling in under the bushes to find the “bestest” blueberries.  But on one occasion it was a dad who exclaimed loudly that “picking berries is the most peaceful thing in the whole world.”  To which his son disagreed. “No it isn’t Dad.”  “No? Then what is the most peaceful thing in the world?” asked the Dad.  “EATING them!” triumphantly crowed his son.

We all chuckled in agreement.