What a difference a year makes (well almost a year… more like 10 months due to a dramatic change in geography strawberries are ready quite a bit earlier this time around)….
Last years strawberry picking scene looked quite different I must say. Even the helping hands of a loving bapcia and pop pop were no match for my little (and very colic) newborn, my wild one and a half-year old, and a girl on an enormous strawberry picking mission.
This made a whopping forty-five jars of jam. Oh, how I have learned. Now a days, I ain’t in no hurry, as they might say around these parts. I refused to go overboard and picked one simple bucket. perhaps we will go back, the season has only begun! We wandered the immense and diverse bamboo garden and botanical gardens surrounding the patch. We picnicked. All in all we enjoyed a relaxing and quiet morning (all things considered). When the boys napped I soaked and sliced the few pounds we managed to keep in the bucket rather than our bellies.
Oh these little boys of mine. How sweet to see them both stained red and grinning. Miles picking ability increased ten fold over the last year I should add. He was able to discern (mostly) from the green or mushy ones (“Mama! That one is being eaten by ants!) and the ruby-red jewels (“Look Mama! Just like the book!”).
There really is not much that can compare to a fresh strawberry is there? That dear old husband of mine has yet to go picking in his 28 years! Oh that poor man. He is surely missing out. The next outing is most certainly going to occur on a weekend. No matter the crowd that might join us.
While he may not have the experience of actually plucking the summery goodness off the vine, he most certainly has gotten to reap the benefits of our hard work.
Last night I made my first trifle. When in Rome right?
It was simply meringue cookies (who knew they were so easy) layered amongst whipped cream
with strawberry puree folded in and sliced strawberries
So very easy and oh my… it is a good thing I enjoy running. Honestly.