We're growing strawberries in the garden. Many times, it seems like we're only growing them so the bunnies and squirrels will have something to snack on, but occasionally we get to eat a few.
Last week's harvest: three berries.
So we made our way to someone else's patch and picked some berries for real. I have fond childhood memories of strawberry picking in May and was very happy to find this local patch.
We tackled a row that nobody else was in- Steve checking one side, me checking the other. I was amazed at how fast the berries piled up in our cartons and how hard it was to stop. It's kind of addictive- searching for the spots of red in all that green, checking the berry over for any blemishes, and then the exciting pop! as you pull it off the stem.
We had previously agreed that we wouldn't pick more than we could eat. But once our cartons were mounded high with berries, I began daydreaming about all the things I would make: strawberry pie, jam, cupcakes with real strawberry icing.
After we got home and started munching though, the pile seemed much smaller. And I couldn't quite bring myself to do anything to alter those sweet red candies. So we just ate them- with yogurt, on salads, in cereal, all by themselves. We shared a few with friends. Eventually the pile was diminished to a single layer, causing me to be a little sad and think to myself- "We need more berries."
I have a feeling we'll be going back.
Shared with friends? I don't remember getting any freshly picked strawberries...
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