Strawberry Picking

Whenever I think of strawberries I think of a particular red and white stand, not far from home. It sits on a dusty shoulder on East Street, just before the sign for Strawberry Hill Lane. A gradual slope rises beyond it, un-planted, overgrown with the wild grasses that are green in the spring and gold in the summer. On the opposite side of the road, furrowed land reaches up toward distant hilltop greenhouses.
Last weekend's outing took us to another stand. This one, by the coast and open for "U-Pick" in March and April. Its fields extend over acres of hillside high above a lagoon. If you drive toward it from the east, you can briefly catch the prettiest vista of field and water. It's particularly lovely with with a coastal haze and that warm light that comes just before sunset. But Saturday's trip was as clear and bright as spring break's closing weekend should be. Brett and I pulled up to quite a bustling stand, bought one giant bucket and headed to the designated patch right by the road.Sunny day, muddy shoes and the juiciest strawberries. Most delicious.