Raspberries

by Cassie Guy

I took my two children, August 3 and Frances 1, to Kent, CT to fill the void of the last week of August leading up to the start of school. To keep us busy, I decided to take the kids to a local dairy farm to get some milk and eggs and to let the children see some dairy cows and chickens. On the way, we stopped for a quick hike at Kent falls and on the way back to the car I told the kids we were headed to the dairy farm and that we may see some animals, at which point my son said "and we are going to pick raspberries." I thought it odd as my son had maybe only eaten raspberries once and from what I remember, did not care for them. I said, with certainty, that there were no berries at this farm but he kept insisting. I think I went so far as to explain they were not in season anymore. We had picked blackberries on Shelter Island the month prior so I finally, to be nice, said, "well, maybe they will have a blackberry bush there like the ones on Shelter". At this point, he got angry with me and was stomping his feet and saying "No, there are going to be raspberries!" To avoid a tantrum I think I finally said something like, "Ok, well, let's go see if they have any raspberries but don't be bummed if there aren't any." And I promised him if there weren't, we could maybe go blueberry picking the following day, as I was certain those were in season. For most three year olds, disappointments can be catastrophic so I was doing what I could to dampen, what I thought, would be an inevitable disappointment.

We got to the dairy farm, got our milk and got our eggs and took a little stroll to see some chickens. One of the lady farmers approached us to say hi. They had a bunch of new chicks, she told us, if we like to see them. "It's a short walk down this road," she said. It was drizzling, but the thought of tiny chicks was too much to pass up. We followed her down a path to the chicks. She told us all about the different breeds. She seemed to like us and our interest in her animals. Suddenly, she turned to my son and asked, "Do you like raspberries?" She pointed to an enormous patch of brambles and said to go and help ourselves to as many raspberries as we wanted.

In thanking her I was still shocked and said, "The weird thing is, he told me we were going to pick raspberries here. I kept telling him no, but he was right." She said, "Oh, I have one of those. My daughter who is now 9 is very perceptive and reads my thoughts as well." We had a brief but natural conversation about our perceptive children. I suddenly felt like she was an old friend. We thanked her and went along and picked possibly the most delicious raspberries I had ever eaten. My son loved them this time around.