strawberry fields
Thalia licks up juice droplets from last year’s thawed picking. “We’re back aaaaaaahhhhhnnnn!”
Nią reads the text from Loveletterist’s dad out loud. “I’m fine this morning. If you want to go for it let me know.”
“I’m so glad he’s feeling better…” Calliope starts slathering herself in sunscreen. “Let’s go get our June bounty.”
Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
~ fifth of the Ten Commandments
We had a plan. Vertigo happened. Plan cancelled. Vertigo went away. Back on.
At 87 years of age, I continue to be mindful of this strawberry picking tradition. It means so much to my dad. And... the strawberries are pretty good, too!
I was about to request a suggestion for interpreting southern Wisconsin dialect. After repeated head scratching, “On.” 😬 Some older southerners can make a one syllable word sound like it’s four. Does Tal travel much?
June strawberry picking with your dad must feel priceless. So glad you can.
May you fill many flats with strawberries today! 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓