Give me pie or give me...

Well, I'm back from the lake. For a day. Or a week - never quite sure.

I have been home periodically to pick peas. Holy hannah, we have peas. Fortunately, Dale's family is of the opinion that sitting around at the lake is best done with a bowl of peas on one's lap, podding. I am quite grateful to my mess of podding family members - without them, I would have been up until 2 a.m. podding the blasted peas. They only took about 3 hours to pick - I had the recycling bin and the biggest cooler I own full of peas in pods. That translates into 2 large dishbins full of podded peas, or an afternoon of blanching 23 3 cup bags and a tray (I ran out of baggies.)

Dale's family also has other strange lake habits. For instance, saskatoon picking.

First, let me be clear. Saskatoons may look a bit like a blueberry, but they are not the same. NOT the same. They grow on tallish bushes deep in the mosquito infested bush (well, that part is like blueberries). I have been spoiled, however. They lack the tang of a good blueberry, and are somewhat more...pulpy.

Yet, the very first thing my husband's family did when looking around our new place was to point out all of the saskatoon bushes. And ask when I would be picking those. So, being eager to please (and hey, they're free fruit!), I took my little girls out into the bush and we picked a small bunch of saskatoons. They shared with their grandparents, bringing tiny helpings down in the little wee vintage tupperware containers I acquired with the cabin.

Anyway, upon returning to the cabin, the girls were driving their mom a bit up the wall, so I suggested that they pick more saskatoons (hey, that's thinking, huh?) They didn't move and continued annoying me. So I told them that if they picked a whole ice cream pail full, I would make them a saskatoon pie.

The girls scampered out the door so fast I think the hinges nearly fell off, and the next thing I see is Dale whipping off his belt. But he didn't have the same furious look that my dad had when he took off his belt...because he had only removed the belt to attach his berry bucket.

I forgot that the magic word in my house is not "please" or "thank you" or "abracadabra". Just say the word "pie" and Dale will be out the door into the garden, or the bush, or wherever the fillings are to be found.

And yes, the three of them filled the ice cream bucket (well, mostly Dale did). So, between loads of laundry tomorrow morning, I'll pick through the berries and make the pastry. And maybe, after all of that, I'll wash the floor. The darn things stain almost as badly as a blueberry.