Particularly when my son Eric was small, the two of us would head out to local farms where we lived in Virginia, to go strawberry-picking. It was great fun; a ritual for us for a number of years. I always used to think the farmers should have weighed him as we entered the fields, and then again as we left, because God knows he ate so many more right there in the fields than ever ended up in our buckets. I'm sure they could have charged me far more than they ever did for the pints we picked.
"Strawberries that in gardens grow
Are plump and juicy and fine,
But sweeter far as wise men know
Spring from the woodland vine.
No need for bowl or silver spoon,
Sugar or spice or cream,
Has the wild berry plucked in June
Beside the trickling stream."
(from "Wild Strawberries" by Robert Graves)
"Doubtless God could have made a better berry (than the strawberry,) but doubtless God never did." (--William Allen Butler)
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