Fresh picked.

Most often our refrigerator is in a state of chaos.
When my daughter visits she is the organizer. I love this about her. She patiently puts tall things on the tall shelf, oldest to newest, jams on the door, identifies and tosses when necessary.
When my sister in law is here she is the finder. When you know something is there, but for the life of you it isn't there, call Sue. Somehow she goes right to it and all is well.
My favorite state for the 'fridge to be in is almost empty. When I can open the door, and feel like the minimalist I never will be, I am happy. When I open the door and there is jam (door), yogurt (middle shelf), beer (downstairs 'fridge!), Rose's lime juice (rear of top shelf) all collided I forget what I am looking for. It flusters me, it overwhelms me. I am tired of digging deep.
At a moments notice I can find you a broad tip nib for a dip pen, a hot pink glassine gold edged mini muffin paper, the dress the same refrigerator organizing daughter wore on her first day of kindergarten, but I may not be able to grab the butter.
Butter is my medium, this shouldn't be! Is the 'fridge a microcosm of my life? Is it the one door I close and say the heck with Fibber Mc Gee? I don't know. But I do know when in my refrigerator I find a heart of blackberries, picked for me, I am a happy woman.

p.s. There is one other smallish area, a stamp? My ATM card? A pen? my license? Yes, my purse, the other disaster area. Recently the above organizer was putting some cash away in my wallet. She wanted to know where I put it in the wallet. Well, sometimes, in the compartment with the kiss closure, sometimes in the zipper compartment but usually in that pocket, or this one here. With a "why am I not surprised" she put the money away and dropped the wallet back into the bottomless pit. Which reminds me of the time she and I got out of a cab in Manhattan, somehow all my cash was at my feet, on the sidewalk. "Streamline Mom, streamline".