Saturday, August 2, 2014

Tastes like Summer

I got a lovely surprise today. My neighbor, who has a set of terraced gardens in her front yard, called and said she was going out of town for the weekend. Could I do her a favor? Pick (and eat) all the strawberries growing there so they don’t go to waste.

Yes, she actually made it sound like I was doing her a favor. These aren’t the plum-sized giant berries I’ve been finding in the store lately. These are concentrated, extra-strength berries, each thimble-sized berry containing the flavor equivalent of a large commercial fruit. The fragrance alone is worth the effort.

I picked a big bowl full and now we get to eat them. Strawberries and cream. Berries in our cereal for breakfast. Maybe a fresh strawberry tart with a cream cheese filling. Rhubarb from my backyard with strawberries in a pie. I’m drooling.

Tonight we celebrate summer with dinner on the deck. Barbeque chicken, potato salad, beans, spinach, and fresh strawberries with homemade shortbread and whipped cream. The sun won’t set until 10:30, so there will be plenty of time for a bike ride before dinner. Hurray for good neighbors. Hurray for summer.


  1. It is very unkind to have this show up on my feed in October. Here I was, sitting and drinking my morning tea, reflecting how lucky you were to have a terrace full of, essentially, wild strawberries to raid at your leisure as a favor. I looked at the fire and thought how wonderful to sit and eat those small, lovely berries with a touch of cream in front of that fire. I sighed, clicked through to your actual blog (which I enjoy) and you posted it in August. *sigh* (But the imagination, nosing around those wonderful berries in October, was very pleasant.)

  2. Oops, I made a correction and didn't realize it would go out on the feed. They were wonderful, and my mouth waters at the memory. We never did get the strawberry tart or rhubarb-strawberry pie because we gobbled them all up in their natural state. When my neighbor got home, she gave me a jar of homemade strawberry jam.

    I understand Anchorage just got its first real snow so, alas, the strawberries are no more.