Confession: I didn’t feed my kids that chocolate cake.
I fully intended to, I really did. But… I found I was perfectly able to eat it all by myself.
And now I’m eating something even better.
A strawberry field is strangely like the sea.
Your voice carries too far. The horizon is flat, and you navigate paths on a low profile, calling out to a few friends, coming close to strangers.
Home again, I got so tired of cutting off berry stems that I started playing a game, a counting blessings game, in which I dared my mind to move as fast as my fingers. One blessing counted for every berry
only some took several berries to appreciate fully
And that bristle of hair covering her head
And the success of her transplant
And that she can be here this week
and many of them were the names of people I love. As I played the game the berries began looking so lovely to me that I had to get out my camera.
So. We’re eating strawberry shortcake and strawberry pie and strawberry jam and strawberries plain and strawberries crushed with sugar and strawberry salads and strawberries with pancakes and whipped cream. I love this feast.
How do you use fresh strawberries?