Mission accomplished!
Greetings, friends!
On Sunday we drove out to Doylestown to a lavender u-pick. I'd worn my grubbiest sneakers, fully anticipated that I'd be wading through knee-deep mud while painstakingly snipping hundreds of thin stems. Luckily, the rows of billowing lavender plants were lined with landscaping fabric, making it a surprisingly tidy ordeal. Also, it turns out lavender is harvested by the fistful using tiny scythes, which expedited the process. While Zach and I worked on our grim reaper impressions, dodged bees, and gathered bundles, small groups of people wandered around us staging photos: coercing their small children into running toward the camera, exchanging phones with strangers to take couples portraits, and taking high-angled selfies against the vibrant purple blooms. For a brief, narcissistic moment, I was a hardworking lavender farmer, surrounded by vapid city folk. But my newfound sense of superiority vanished the second Zach pulled out his phone, reminding me that I, too, am…