When you fall off the horse...
While my wife's vacation officially ended yesterday and she was back at work, the hot weather has extended through weekend, with change on the horizon. So, we booked a place at the farm to pick our own raspberries. They are normally awesome from this place and about a third of the price we can get them from in the supermarket.
However, we were a little early in the season it seems, so even though there were plenty, it took a bit more work to find the rip ones amongst the green and nearly ripe ones. Other times we have gone it have been able to fill our containers in less than an hour, and it took us an hour and a half to get eight kilos (~18 lb) of delicious, sweet raspberries. That doesn't include the handfuls we stuffed down our gullets along the way either.
10.5€ /kg compared to almost 30€ /kg in the shops
You might remember from a few weeks ago, we went strawberry picking at the same place, but it is quite different and harder, as strawberries grow close to the ground. Raspberries are just there at the perfect height. And when the weather was so warm, it was far more pleasant to not have to bend down and search.
There was a light breeze blowing up from the lake and through the strawberry fields, so the scent of ripe strawberries came wafting over to us as well. It was quite a beautiful experience, and it is fun with the girls who are quietly picking and often talking about all the awesome berry collections they would find.
Berried treasure.
Calculated risk?
No.
There was no calculation involved. For the first time for the girls (and the second for me with the first being when I was about 12), we went to the trots (Australians call it), or whatever it is called in other places. Horse racing with the rider in a buggy. In Finland, they don't do horse racing on horseback at all I believe, though I am not sure why. Though, looking at the size of the drivers today, I might have a clue as to the reason.
Jockeys are normally very short and petite.
And we had a flutter.
Sonce my wife had never been and I had no idea either, Smallsteps picked our horse for the next race and tried to put a 5€ bet on. However, there was some fanangling around with IDs and signups and the like, so we missed the window. Wouldn't you know it??
Smallsteps picked a winner.
Missed 40€
And that was the only winner we collectively picked for the day, though we only put a bet on one ore race. But as you can see, Smallsteps might have the gambling bug in her.
Look at the rest in the picture.
There was definitely a different type of person that went to these races than we normally hang out with. Lots of older people, and a lot of Romani. Not many really seemed to be having any fun there either, but we enjoyed the experience as a family, though it isn't going to be a regular thing. I would be a bad gambler, as I would bet on the longshots every time.
This is why crypto suits me.
We did the whole horse racing experience though, and went to have hot wings after the races, as so many of the people seem to do. And then, on bellied full, we came back home, sugared the raspberries we had picked and put them in the freezer, keeping some fresh for the next couple days, dropped a container to the elderly neighbours (we did the same with strawberries earlier), and went for a swim in the lake.
And just as we came home to watch the replay of the Formula 1 qualifying session, the sky cracked open and it absolutely poured down, with lightning and thunder to accompany it. It is now much cooler and at least tonight, we won't have to water the garden.
We have a confirmation event all day tomorrow, so more family time on the cards. I am designated photographer though, which is fine since no one talks to me there anyway.
Oh...
And when you fall off the horse?
When I was seven years of age my friend put me on one of his race horses. And it immediately knew it had a bunny on its back and started jumping weeds in the field we were in. I held on for as long as I could but fell, and while I was on my back, the horse reared up above me and came down, with its hooves hitting the ground, either side of my chest.
I never got back on a horse.
Taraz
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