Karen said in the comments, before we got to DC, that we needed to go to Catoctin Mountain Orchard, which is next to Cunningham Falls. 
Catoctin, back in the day, was one of the first places to go for the pick-your-own crowd: use their containers or weigh your own first, and then weigh the containers again when you get done. What little kids don’t like a day of climbing in trees? And how often do their parents encourage them to do that at home? Strawberries, on the other hand, were bend-over-till-you’re-stiff type of work, but they were our favorites and we picked a lot of them.
I don’t know if they still do that; I do know that, since I left home, they built this beautiful farmstand. (And there’s a local photographer who sells beautiful framed prints there for a very reasonable price; I got one a few years ago of mountain laurels, one of my most favorite flowers and one that I have never seen in California. I miss them. I keep it next to my knitting perch.) Karen bought a half bushel of Empires to make applesauce with, and we split it with her and took some home to the folks.
I asked my mother-in-law, and she told me where her scale was. One pound even. 
And yes, we went to Cunningham Falls. The creek was mostly dry and the falls barely there; the drought back East is pretty intense.
Richard and I came home to a green lawn, revived by the rain that had come to northern California in our absence. To celebrate, I quartered and zapped the one Empire I’d brought home, cooked in deference to California’s produce protectionism till the juices turned to syrup and the whole thing into a dessert.