Here we are again, at the end of strawberry season.
I’m sad to say, we almost missed it completely, however, we were lucky they hung on for one more humid July week. We were away on family vacation in the east coast last week. The strawberries hadn’t started there, but they were in full bloom (if that’s what you call it) at home. Our mouths were watering at the thought of fresh strawberries right from the fields, but we couldn’t find anything!
Last year Olive and I went picking before Henry arrived. It was the first time either of us had been. (I know, I was deprived!) and now I think it has officially become tradition. Last year Olive and I filled one basket. This year she demanded her own! With baskets in hand, we headed for the berries. This was Henry’s first year. It left him pleasantly surprised! Armed with a berry in each hand, he squeezed them until red juices ran down his arms and legs. Giggling, he ate them as quickly as he could, grabbing for more. As Henry was eating, Olive was running from row to row. She insisted on filling up her basket and paying before she tasted any (if only she followed that rule in the grocery store)!
Soon our baskets were full and we were on our way home, munching on fresh berries and laughing about our afternoon.
