Strawberry Fields

Sam and I had a quick lunch at the Presbyterian men's burger stand yesterday. We are shingling the church so it was definitely a working lunch.

And the beginning of an obsessive desire for

Mary Jean Miller's daughter had returned from a strawberry picking trip to Heron Lake. As she was leaving, Mary Jean, gave Sam and I each a strawberry and sent one along for Mom.

The berry was huge, juicy and sweet.

One was definitely not enough.

I could not stop thinking about it.

Those strawberries were my destiny.

So this morning, as Mom and I were driving to her house, I came up with a plan. Mom was reluctant as she needed to tend to some newly planted vegetables . But she succumbed to the call of the berry. I made a quick trip to the office to start payroll, stopped back home to change clothes and we were on our way at 10 am. It took a little over an hour to get to Heron Lake and the berry picking closed at noon.

We found the farm with no problems. It was a hot windy day and I soon realized that Mom would not be able to join me picking--the only way to get to the field was by hayrack. With no time to waste, I parked Mom in the shade where she could see what was going on, had my containers weighed and hopped on the hayrack.

I forgot my phone/camera so I didn't get any photos--the plants were loaded with huge fruit and I was able to quickly fill my containers. I so wished Mom could have enjoyed looking at the vast clean rows of strawberry plants dotted with groups of pickers of all ages.

After checking out, I returned to the car and placed a large bowl in Mom's lap. She popped one in her mouth and sighed deeply. They are just too beautiful for words

We were on our way home at noon, stopped for gas and did a drive through lunch. A hair appointment, grocery shopping and tornado warnings rounded out the rest of the day.

While I made dinner, Mom hulled berries--almost reverently. They were that good.

I cooked a batch of jam

We had some for dessert

And still have some in the frig for tomorrow