Carolyn’s Online Magazine
WHAT MEMORIES DO SUNKISSED STRAWBERRIES
TRIGGER FOR YOU?
NOTE: Once a month I plan on reposting a piece written by one of Carolyn’s Online Magazine (#COMe) followers and one piece written by members of the Foothills Writers (formerly the Beanery Writers Group), Latrobe, PA.
I read sun-kissed strawberries on Maria Johnson’s WordPress site, another cup of coffee. Maria was one of the first persons to begin following #COMe when it began in January (#COMe evolved from CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS which ran out of space after 1337 posts). Thank you, Maria.
sun-kissed strawberries spoke to me on several levels.
- Like Maria, I sit on my patio and watch the wild strawberries among my sunning weeds change from green to red. Even though there is a slight harvest, they are delicious snacking as I stroll through my yard.
- Strawberries take me back to a child born in mid-May 45 years ago, a child meant for my husband Monte and I, a child born as the strawberries were being born. The June morning she was released from the hospital I was picking strawberries at a farm in Ohio. When I returned to my Western Pennsylvania home “the call” was waiting—our 5# 1 oz. baby girl was released from the hospital…Our strawberries on the living room coffee table were forgotten as we headed to Pittsburgh, where we became parents to Sandy, whose mother had released her to our care, to receive sun-kisses for 45 years.
- I think back to my years in Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania, when I made strawberry jam and filled my freezer with fresh-picked strawberries that would cheer our family’s winter table.
- Just this past Sunday homemade (by Monte) strawberry shortcake served as a birthday “cake” for a close family friend and guests at her 60th birthday party.
But this is not my post—so I take you to Maria’s site, another cup of coffee:
I’ve always thought I had a brown-thumb and rarely tried to grow anything because of it. Why? I’d kill it eventually. It turns out, I just needed the time, and the interest in making things happen. Wanting a pretty garden means sweating and weeding.
Isn’t that true of (continue reading at sun-kissed strawberries )