We had a date yesterday picking organic blueberries for some friends at the Blueberry Ranch. It reminded me of a certain summer in Oregon picking strawberries with other mutant youngsters and much quieter and harder working migrant workers.
Okay, picking blueberries with my wife for a few minutes was enjoyable; picking the red berries all summer was really quite miserable. Next time you eat a strawberry purchased at a store, say a prayer of thanks and blessing on the ones who picked them! Eking out an existence for your family in orchards and fields is one tough life. My thoughts turn to the Immokalee workers.