Thursday

billygean ♦ June 29, 2009 ♦ Leave a Comment

MindReader, MadFather and I are fruit picking. MindReader is about to go away for three days, and has taken some annual leave to do fun stuff.

I am half-distracted by fears of a cold. That slight heaviness, body protesting at walking, sore throat. Sigh.

MindReader’s arm encircles my waist as he pops a raspberry into my mouth. I kiss him, full on the lips.

“This one’s green!” MadFather says, a few rows of raspberries along.

This sort of inane outburst is quite common for MadFather.

MindReader and I turn to look at him.

He blows into the stem of the green raspberry.

“What…?” I say.

“I’m just making it ripe,” MadFather says. “You have to blow really, really hard.”

“Oh,” I say, thinking.

“That’s why it’s called blowing raspberries,” MindReader says.

“Ohh, I SEE,” I say, and go about picking some green raspberries ready to blow.

I stand up to see MindReader and MadFather silently laughing.

“Oh,” I say, “OH.”