…means a winter of jam on toast, berry smoothies, and waffles smothered in warm fruit compote.
Hard green berries riddle these buckets courtesy of my friend’s two-year-old, Noah. Every other minute he’d trot up the field proudly waving a “GEEN ONE! GEEEEEEN ONE!” and hurl it overhand into the bucket. Noah recently learned that red lights mean bad, don’t go, and green lights mean good, go ahead. No argument can convince him that’s not the rule for the world in general, and strawberries in particular.
Ripe berries warm from the sun, kids with red strawberry juice beards, hot afternoon haze over the furrows – summer’s here.