I can't remember the last place I lived that didn't have a strawberry patch. Even living in a terrible council estate in South West London, Kev and I have always grown those sweet red soft fruits. He loves them. He will always order the strawberry flavoured dessert on the menu and strawberry cheesecake would be his request for his final meal.It is no surprise then that our son has inherited something other than his father's taste in women. This mama's boy loves his strawberries.
This strawberry season is starting like last year's. Small boy trots out to the strawberry patch, sits himself down and begins devouring by the handful. Mostly red ones, but pink, orange and yellow sometimes sneak in as well.
Whenever I can't find him throughout our days, there he is...often hidden behind a pot or shrub so I don't see what he is doing.
I have given up being able to make anything out of our yearly crop and buy my strawberries from the Farmer's Market or greengrocer.
Goethe was so very right when he said, "One must ask children and birds
how cherries and strawberries taste." I did and he said, "Mmmmmmmmmmm!"