When I was a little girl, my grandmother and I would go every year to a pick-your-own strawberry patch near our home in Dutchess County, New York. When the sign point to the patch would appear at the roadside, with an arrow indicating it was time to start picking, I would get so excited anticipating the fun outing.
When we would go, it would be hot, because we only would go on nice sunny days with bright blue skies. And every year, we’d pick as many of the delectable, fresh, sweet berries as we could. Besides the big box of strawberries, I’d also leave with red-stained clothes, hands, you name it. Eating just picked strawberries is one of life’s most simple pleasures.
I still love strawberries as much as I did as a little girl. I particularly love those bright red ones that are perfectly sweet and just picked. With any luck, Will and I will begin our own strawberry picking tradition this year at a pick-your-own farm not far from where we live. I hope he enjoys the experience as much as I do.
It’s almost strawberry picking time! Just a few more weeks . . .