Last summer, the VIM and I spent one glorious weekend day doing absolutely nothing. We had no plans. No. Plans. None. So we made a pact to simply BE for a day. No to do lists, no obligations, no pressure. It was an amazing day. We got up without an alarm, had coffee on the deck, then commenced the doing of nothing.
It was a perfect day. I can’t remember much of how I passed the time, but I’m pretty sure reading and napping were two of the main events. The one thing I do remember quite clearly is picking raspberries in the late afternoon. I had never picked berries before, and it was a beautiful experience for me…the smell of the trees, the warm air, the sweet taste of the raspberries. It may sound ridiculous, but I was so content and so centered during that time that even months later when I would feel down or fed up or just plain bitchy, I could recall that contentment and it would calm me down. That memory is one of my happy places.
So wonderful it was that I’ve been thinking that I need to get out there and pick those berries again this year. I wanted to recapture that moment, freshen it up a bit.
So last night was the night. I had about half an hour until dinner, so I got my berry bowl and headed down the deck steps toward the woods that border the VIM’s backyard. I knew this adventure would be a little different from last year. I had long pants on (thorns!) but was wearing flip flops. Even *I* know not to wear flip flops in the woods. I figured I could walk along the edge of the yard and simply reach into the thicker growth and get at least a few raspberries. There were a lot of bushes right at the edge of the yard. As I headed toward the bushes, I carefully skirted the piles of deer poop and gave wide berth to the giant ant hill at the upper end of the yard. I zeroed in on some bushes right along the edge and started picking the ripe ones. I got about 7 berries before I felt something on the top of my bare, flip flopped foot. As it turns out, ants travel. In bunches. The ants from the hill had set up a busy little ant freeway along the entire length of the yard right at junction of yard and underbrush. I had stepped right in the middle of the freeway. The ants just kept trucking. Over my foot. Up my pantleg. GAH. I STILL get the skin-crawling willies when I flash back to the moment I looked down and saw about 50 ants on my foot. GAAAAHHHHHH! I had the presence of mind to carefully set down my berries before I went absolutely insane and started slapping and shaking the ants off my foot and leg.
For some folks that may have been enough. But not me. I was going to relive that contented moment, dammit. I was going to pick the damn berries.
I regrouped.
I calculated that I could keep my left foot in the safety of the yard, and with my right foot step over the ant freeway and carefully rest my right foot on the heavier, weedier, unidentified (this will be an important part later…) plants. My goal was to make sure my right foot didn’t slip UNDER the plants because who KNEW what kinds of creepy crawlies could be under there. So that’s what I did for the length of the yard. Big Step, careful weed patdown, pick a few (and I mean VERY few) berries, then shuffle down a few feet. I’m happy to report I didn’t have any more ant contact.
When I got back to the deck, I only had 30 or so berries. Not a great take, BUT, ahhh….sweet, ripe black raspberries. YUM! I rinsed off the berries, offered some to the VIM, then dug in. Not as sweet as I remembered. But still. Fresh Fresh Food. So fresh, in fact, that it was still moving. The little things that I had thought were seeds were moving. On tiny little legs. That was pretty much the end of the berries for me. I was done with the whole berry picking heaven moment re-enactment.
Or so I thought.
This morning I woke up and had quite the itchy feet. After work, my feet were still itchy, as well as sort of hivey. Since about 5pm, I’ve noticed that a rash and bumps have appeared on my ankles and a few on my wrists. I’m trying VERY hard to ignore the insane itching on my ear and chin. I guess there is a possibility that it’s all a coincidence. Maybe I’ve developed an allergy to ground beef or corn or something else that I’ve recently eaten and the allergy manifests itself in itchy feet.
Just in case, though, I looked up the symptoms of poison ivy. I’m not convinced that’s what it is, but the site said it can take up to 48 hours to fully develop, so that gives me another whole day to kick myself for being so incredibly stoooopid.
