Strawberries For the Pickin'

Two things come to mind when I see strawberries. When I was little, my Mom worked at a farm market. One of the things she made was strawberry pies-they were a-ma-zing. There is an old family story about me and my cousin being little and eating a whole pie for ourselves. I don't remember it, but I'd believe it.

The other memory is of my Grandma. She had a big green tupperware bowl, I have so many memories of that bowl. There was a large silver bowl for stringing beans from the garden or wilted lettuce and the big green bowl held potato salad, or in this memory-strawberries. I always thought it was magic-the way the juice was made. I never knew how she could get it with just the perfect amount of sweetness. She would slice them with a pear knife into the bowl, and one day I asked her. She told me all she did was add the sugar and the strawberries did the rest. I felt as if I had just been clued into the most amazing secret. I think about these things everytime I bite into one. It makes me wonder if I love strawberries for the sweet taste, or for the fond memories they give me.

I took the boys strawberry picking this year. I loaded them up with a plastic Easter baskets and myself a large bucket and off we went. The boys share my enthusiasm for strawberries, so they were more than obliged to learn what kind of strawberries were ripe for the pickin, and what needed to be left on the plant.

I would drop a few in Reese's bucket and he would say, "Mama, you're the best girl in the world." It was super sweet-he didn't feel that way when we had to leave and he was ready for a nap, but I'll take what I can get.

As you can see there was a bit of "taste testing" going on. Unfortunately, Reese would taste a bite, and the put it back in the bucket. I kept hearing, "Ma-ma! This is a squishy one, guess I better eat it! Ma-ma! This has dirt on it, guess I better eat it! Ma-ma! I dropped this one! Guess I better eat it!" I started to get a little suspicious, and then turned around to see this.....

"What are you looking at me like that Mama?" he said.

We may or may not have bought the weight of a small child in strawberries that day.