Christine had a great idea to take all of our many house guests to a local blueberry farm and do some picking.
We loaded up into our three cars and headed that way. We were all coming from different directions as I had to drive Ari to the DMV to get her drivers license first.
I followed the GPS to the Tee to get to the blueberry fields but it landed me in a run down old property with jugs of moonshine and overgrown vines everywhere. I even ventured out of my truck to knock on one of the many doors to see if I was really at "Lyrenes" blueberry farm. When I got to the door I knocked and then looked in the door window. There was a 150 year old man asleep in his barcalounger in his boxers.
Don't think I was in the right place.
Waited for Christine and her crew to get there so we could have a conference about what to do next. I did send her a text to let her know that the address of the farm was more of a shit hole than a berry picking farm. I'm just sayin.
While we were driving around trying to locate the blueberry fields, the kids entertained themselves.
At some point Harrison jumped into our car. We happened onto a large piece of property that looked like it might be the blueberry farm.
Harrison jumped out to have a closer look.
Then he got back in on the car and we headed down the long drive.
This is what we in Alabama call a "southern seat belt".
What it really means is...
HOLD ON
Of course when he let go I had to take off and leave him. Had to amuse myself.
That's him running along side my truck
Then I punched it and took off. He looks like Forest Gump.
When I finally let him catch up to me he hopped on top of the truck.
Another Southern Seat belt
I did eventually let him back in my car. I'm nice like that.
The rest of the day was spent picking berries. I dropped off the family and then ran Ari over to the DMV to get her drivers license.
My friend Christine looks so cute in her boots.
The little punks picked 8 lbs of fresh blueberries.
YUM
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