Strawberry Fields

“Look!” Thalia pointed at nature’s dewy drops dangling from the improvised plexiglass tabletop. “Mother Nature is using our pointillist design!”

Calliope giggled. “Our pointillist design?”

“Chicken? Egg? What does it matter? Looks marvelous, doesn’t it?”

Nią cleared her throat. “Inspiration is everywhere… available for the picking. And, the opportunity to create — by connecting the unconnected in our voice — is as bountiful as the ripe berries will be in the rows we pick today.”

“Building up Buttercup!” Tal smiled. “Instead of tearing down.”

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Words from Typist:

Driving north today to meet my 85 year old dad. We’re going to pick strawberries together. My dad just loves strawberries! I’m grateful that we are both well enough to get out under the blue sky together, building our relationship.

Let me take you down
’Cause I’m going to strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever
~The Beatles