It's Raspberry Season!

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Scurvy is a fascinating disease, but not well understood. Sure, we all know that pirates, at least historically, have been prone to it. Supposedly you get scurvy from a lack of vitamin C, but to me that sounds like some sort of conspiracy theory to paralyze the hard working pirates with fear, keeping the busy shipping lanes to the port of Miami free from high sea hijinx. I wouldn't at all be surprised if the state of Florida was somehow behind it, working clandestinely with former Governor Jeb Bush and the Florida orange juice lobby (Minute Maid, Tropicana).
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Minute Maid is an odd name for a company that produces orange juice, don't you think? To me, Minute Maid sounds like a great name for a toilet bowl cleaner.
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Just leave MinuteMaid in the bowl for one minute, give it a swish with a brush, flush and Voila!
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Jeb is an odd name for a man who produces questionable election results, don't you think? To me Jeb sounds like a great name for a toilet bowl cleaner.
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Just leave lemon scented Jeb in the bowl for one minute, give it a swish with a brush, flush and Voila!
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Did you know that Tropicana was owned by Pepsi? And Minute Maid was owned by Coke? I used avoid getting scurvy by drinking an occasional glass of rum and Coke (garnished with a lime wedge), but those days are gone. My biggest fear from undertaking the hundred mile diet is scurvy. I've been lucky so far, given that strawberry season (the past four weeks) blossomed into raspberry season (now), soon to be followed by blueberry season (next week and beyond). It's not likely that I'll get scurvy this summer, but what about down the road?
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I can imagine walking into the doctors office and saying "Doc, you've got to help me. I'm pale. I feel depressed and I'm partially immobilized (all scurvy symptoms)."
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"Well Ian, welcome to Canada in January. There absolutely nothing wrong with you." She'll qualify that statement by adding "at least, nothing wrong physically." Then I'll cough up my teeth on her examination room floor, at which point she'll tell me that I need to find a sport other than hockey. Scurvy is rarely seen these days.
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So it's raspberry season at the moment. I love raspberries, as does every leisurologist. They're the only small fruit crop that can be picked without breaking into a sweat. Strawberries are agonizing to harvest. I salute anyone who picks strawberries...hard work. Blueberries are maddening. You can pick blueberries for three days straight, night and day, and only have a cupful to show for your effort. It's like diamond mining, except worse. With raspberries, you walk along neat rows, and the berries are at belly level for most of us...it's too easy.
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Barb Belyea is our local raspberry grower. She's got u-pick raspberries, as well as those picked by she and her ten-point buck of a husband, Emery. They're two great people with thousands of delicious raspberries. And no pirates live in Whites Cove. Well, the Maclean boys might drop by and hijack your conversation, but that's all part of the fun.