Anticipation

Anticipation, it's more than a song title, it's almost angst at this time of year.

After a long winter of this, without the sun most times, we are all ready for some color in our lives.

For me, it's the strawberry that brings color to the table, the true welcoming beginning of summer. I pick my own summer fruits and a strawberry picked from the vine, eaten warm in the morning sun can't be compared with much else.

Sometimes I go with the granddaughters because it's important that this be passed down to them but most times I go picking alone because I love the solitude of the early morning, the birds, the conversations of the grandmas around me passing this ritual on to their grandchildren.  I hear them talk about the jam they will make when they get home. 

 For me, it's the fresh strawberry pie.  I wait all year for this pie because it can't be made with trucked in from Florida or Mexico or California berries.  It can only be made with fresh picked local-not-bred-for-shipping berries. The kind that juice and dribble down your chin and sticky your fingers.  Those berries.

About two and a half more months.