Gone pickin'

The most important thing is finding an interesting conversation to eavesdrop on. I'm far from a veteran picker, but after three years doing this, I know how overhearing someone else's juicy gossip can make the time fly.

Yesterday, I spotted a couple of Midwesterners before I'd even gotten off the wagon, and set up my one-woman picking party nearby. The accents were almost enough on their own. Add some good family dirt, and I had to hide my smile in a bush.

"Heard from Kelly, there, hun?"

"Ooh, YAH, just yesterday."

"How's she gettin' on with that boyfriend of hers, then?"

"Oooh, good. She'll have to go at the end of the summer, though."

"Well now isn't that iRONical!"

Plunk plunk plunk went the berries in my bucket. I hoped they didn't notice me. I hoped they were too busy marveling at the gorgeous marble-sized berries, and speculating about summer boyfriends.

Consider this fair warning: if you go berry picking with friends or family, beware the nonchalant bystander. She's hearing every word.