Survivor: Ottawa
In my attempt to have an all-edible backyard, raspberries were planted a year or two ago. Two different kinds: a type that gives one big harvest, and another that gives two smaller harvest in early and late summer.
"Harvest" is a pretty generous term. Let's call it like it it: three berries per plant. Not a whole lot of sun back there, and, I'm hoping, it takes time to get established.
Nevertheless, the late summer variety has been producing sweet berries over the past week, but again, not a lot at any one time. Coming in after work, I would often have one berry that we would share either two or three ways. The Margo, it would seem, looooooves raspberries.
It shouldn't come as a surprise, then, that Margo would become really good, really fast at picking raspberries. We put her down for a second as we unloaded the car, and when we turned around, she was not only picking and eating, but had discovered a way to get around the raspberry cane thorns.
That's my daughter: the survivalist. She probably sneaks out in the middle of the night and catches fish with her hands and collects early morning dew as sustenance. Even her stance, and jumper, give her a caveman kind of look. Well, in so much as a teal jumper with cartoon animals on it can be seen as caveman attire.
- Michel
p.s. Margo pretty much finished off the late harvest of raspberries. Cute photo op for her, lousy outcome for Donna and I.
"Harvest" is a pretty generous term. Let's call it like it it: three berries per plant. Not a whole lot of sun back there, and, I'm hoping, it takes time to get established.
Nevertheless, the late summer variety has been producing sweet berries over the past week, but again, not a lot at any one time. Coming in after work, I would often have one berry that we would share either two or three ways. The Margo, it would seem, looooooves raspberries.
It shouldn't come as a surprise, then, that Margo would become really good, really fast at picking raspberries. We put her down for a second as we unloaded the car, and when we turned around, she was not only picking and eating, but had discovered a way to get around the raspberry cane thorns.
That's my daughter: the survivalist. She probably sneaks out in the middle of the night and catches fish with her hands and collects early morning dew as sustenance. Even her stance, and jumper, give her a caveman kind of look. Well, in so much as a teal jumper with cartoon animals on it can be seen as caveman attire.
- Michel
p.s. Margo pretty much finished off the late harvest of raspberries. Cute photo op for her, lousy outcome for Donna and I.
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on Monday, September 17, 2007 at 1:43 p.m..
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9:50 p.m.I'm surprised there is no comment. She foraged. For her own food. I'm not sure if it's just the food lover in me but I think this is pretty cool. Unless she starts eating ALL berries she sees (good ones AND bad for you ones) . . .that would not be so awe inspiring. But this, this is cool.
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