Here I sit in my easy chair
Thinkin' 'bout old times again
I've lived more years than I have left
And I love rememberin' when

A favorite memory I ponder on
Is what I called Mother's habit
She couldn't pass a berry of any kind
Without reachin' down to grab it

Berry pickin' was one of the chores
That Mother did with the greatest pleasure
It never really seemed like work to her
She treated it like a task of leisure

Any time there were berries to pick
She was as happy as a little child
And worked the field for several hours
Pickin' strawberries that came up wild

The only drawback to this quirk of hers
Was that we all had to help pick
Fightin' thorns, mosquitoes and spiders
We got tired of it pretty darn quick

Mother wouldn't let us stop pickin'
Until all the lard buckets were filled
And when the pickin' was finally done
You never saw a bunch of kids more thrilled

After we had all gone back to the house
Mother was still out there pickin'
I guess she was like that famous watch
That took a lickin' but kept on tickin'

I have to say we reaped the rewards
Of the times that we all picked berries
There were jams and jellies and even cakes
And warm pies just oozin' with cherries

Our parents have been gone for many years
And seven children are now past their prime
But I'd fight the spiders, the thorns and heat
To experience that one more time

Kathleen McCoy Eldridge©
July 3, 2006
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