Zen and the Art of Fruit Picking

I suffer from anxiety yet I refuse to take drugs for this problem. Most people I know take some sort of anti-depressant or mood stabilizer. And they are better for it. Perhaps I would be, too. The problem is I am too anxious to take medication. So I have to cope the best I can with creative, non-medicated anxiety-busting. During the summer I am the least anxious of any season thanks to fruit.

We live in a small town situated in a quasi-country setting. There are numerous berry farms and orchards just spitting distance from our home. Starting in June with strawberries, I head to the U-Pick farms and commune with nature. I love the heat of the sun on my bare arms. I love the rustle of the bushes as the breeze blows. I love the smell of warm, ripe berries rising up in the sun. I love my stained hands and the full plastic buckets of juicy, sweet gems. I pick blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, marionberries, boysenberries, loganberries, etc. I pick cherries and peaches and then apples, pears and plums.

Fruit picking makes me happy. Being outside is calming. It's a simple pastime that brings me peace in a complex world.

My freezer is filled with bags of fruit to use later for making baked goods. And then there's the jam. I make batches and batches of freezer jam for my family to enjoy as well as to share with others.

In those dark, wet grim winter days, a simple jam-coated piece of toast transports you back to summer and reminds you that warm days will come again. Just like taking a pill is intended to ease a dark, troubled mind full of worry and allow you to see the light of day. So until I can swallow a Prozac or Xanax, I'll open my freezer and pull out a little dose of berry-flavored Zen.