Thursday, August 2, 2012

My High Maintenance Farmhand

We u-picked blueberries this morning:

A pound and a half in to berries plunking in our buckets Genevieve declared her footwear to be "inappropriate for farming."  I abruptly found myself having less of a Norman Rockwell and more of a Pearl S. Buck moment as I slogged between the rows of blueberry bushes, two buckets of berries over my neck and a daughter on each hip. 

Soup for lunch and dry shoes stabilized my farmhand,

so we moved on to an outfit change and thinning carrots at home.

It's a tough life, that of a child laborer.  A sister needs her rest,

and another outfit. 

Genevieve can't get enough of clothes, while Marguerite continues her moratorium on decency:

No comments:

Post a Comment