The day that changed about the next five years of our lives started out like any other.

Right up until my Mom said to me and my oldest sister that she needed us to try to go sell a few eggs. The goal was a few dollars to buy milk. My mom wanted it for a recipe. We had chickens at this time. So my Mom had the eggs and only needed the milk.

We decided we would still keep trying even after the first few houses were not home. Then we started piling up a couple of no thanks. After another no, I was leading out of the driveway of a house, when suddenly I heard a quick small crack on the paved driveway. Without even looking back I just knew.

My sister caught up to me and we realized we still had a couple more chances, even despite all our real eggs in her bike basket loosely remaining.

Counting our bad fortune and nearly wondering if that broken one may fry on the hot blacktop, we decided once again we would keep going on.

Now my oldest sister had been a Girl Scout at some point, so I assumed she could sell these eggs easily. On the other hand, I really had no sales experience at that time. As I had learned earlier, I could barely stand to say “Trick or Treat” on any Halloween evening.

We were left with only approximately three eggs, yet we only needed about $2. So at this time we pushed on, but with new concentration on keeping the basket of remaining eggs ever safe. Luckily, we finally hit pay dirt far down the busy highway. We had our eggs sold and raced home to get out of the stifling heat.

Somehow or another we ended up stopping midway or something. Maybe ran into someone on a bike, too. This part of the day is a bit fuzzy. Maybe it was the heat. A parent at a house close by said that the neighbor behind had come around looking for some help of his own. And, that one and only bike ride selling a handful of eggs landed us our first summertime, full-time strawberry farm work for about the next five summers.

Instead of visions of eggs or milk, all we would see in the summers would be red, red and more red. Big juicy strawberries and more than you could fathom. That was until it was planting time or plain berry farm maintenance as in planting, weeding or watering time. Then it was mounds of plants, roots and crowns. Then it was a race against the clock to get them all in the ground and do it effectively, fast and all watered. This was all done by metal watering cans that we all filled and hauled. We were the new jacks-of-all-trades on the berry farm. Summers started and ended in the strawberry fields. Luckily, I learned to love working there.

I could barely sell an egg as a kid that first year and by my last year, we all could help the berry farm run. It really was a dream job. Especially if you love being outside and love strawberries. Except that it was every single day nearly for every single summer. The berry farm was managed and owned by our boss. And he happened to be a teacher too out west, so we did learn a lot fairly quickly. How to pick properly and ensure the health of the plant. Pick and snap the stem not the berry top. Work efficiently and always be using both hands. When to know if a plant needed water or not. Also, not to spill your berry bucket. That way you would not end up picking them twice.

The berry farm was now our new summer home. The days were long, but the time went fast. We would race home to shower and my oldest sister always won. After everyone got cleaned up and rested for a bit, we would get to do normal kid activities, except it was necessary to get up early. The heat would be unbearable otherwise. After a trial run of different start times for the morning fluctuations, it was determined the best hours were 6 a.m. to about 2 p.m. Some days were longer and some shorter. That way, we could be done quicker before the humidity was higher or the berries were out too long in the heat once being picked. The stores and restaurants also asked to get them earlier in the day for their customers. We learned to enjoy getting up early and out earlier to get to do a few fun events after each day.

One of the best perks of our new summer work was the fact we could have ourselves the freshest strawberries in town for breakfast – at least in moderation, of course. There was barely time to eat or even chat as there were so, so many berries to pick. It was important to be fast.

In our last couple of years on the farm, our boss had made the decision to buy a huge metal riding planting machine; it looked kind of like a tractor. He demonstrated it to us, and then explained he would be using it this early summer for the hundreds of new plants to give us a mini-break at least on the planting portion for a couple of the days. We were so excited to finally get to sleep in past our early morning rituals of getting up and running to work in the dark.

However, after only one day, the second morning the phone ringing off the hook woke us all up from our deep sleep. The new tractor planting machine was not cutting it; nor saving our boss time. He lamented to our mom that the machine actually was causing more work for him. It could, in theory, work as it tossed the plant like a windmill towards the row intended, but he admitted had been spending hours upon hours fixing all the plants individually.

The machine could not properly finish the actual care that was necessary to the health of the plant. Obviously, this new machine turned out to be a bad investment. It all was too much as he had his hands full with other berry farm tasks. And, he asked our mom if we could please come again. And hurry. We all knew we would be going as that’s what Mom would expect. Plus, we learned to love our life that revolved around the strawberry farm.

We all jumped up and raced around getting ready quickly as we had hundreds of times; his other investment on all the new strawberry plants soon would dry up as well. Mornings like this one required lots of mental toughness, because time was critical when putting in an entire field of new strawberry starts. No time for breakfast unless you got lucky to grab something on the way out the door. As there was no picking today.

During the normal picking season, we would start out on one end of the row and then later be looking up to see the other end of the row so far away. It would at times seem daunting and never ending. Later on, I learned it was best to keep your head down and keep two hands moving to get done quicker. That was the goal. Quicker and pick cleaned. That means get all the berries. Except the tiniest button berries. We usually picked between 8 to 10 flats a day. Each flat was 8 quarts. And there were six of us picking. There were always orders needing to be filled.

There were four large fields of strawberry rows, and they were replanted about every two or three years, once the berries were not as plentiful. Each field was made up of many hundreds of strawberry plants.

Once the day was done, we would race home the last half mile running in waist-high green grass.

Everyone loves fresh strawberries. A fresh strawberry is like gold. They are definitely delicious beyond compare. So many ways to enjoy them or if they are perfectly ripe to eat plain in a bowl. The many ways to enjoy fresh strawberries include fresh strawberry pie, an ice cream sundae, strawberry shake, a strawberry smoothie or on a strawberry shortcake. Maybe even with a banana split. Fresh strawberries are the best of the best summer foods. Packed with vitamin C, fiber and potassium. Our strawberries even ended up in local restaurants and stores.