a strawberry pickle

My summer berry harvest has been plodding along. I’ve been getting dribs and drabs of strawberries. (Dare I say -thank you Polar Vortex?)

It’s so nice to come back from a walk, poke around in the garden and pull a few berries off their stems. I grab hold of the stalk and bite down just above their frilly green collar. The tiny, warm splash of sour – sweet pulp wakes up my taste buds and I feel like I’m “liven’ off the land.”  : )

I’m lucky to get a small handful of berries every once in awhile and they are prized possessions. Not enough for a smoothie or a yogurt mix in, but enough to remind me how grateful I am to get any at all!

When I bring them in and throw them in my strawberry bowl, and allow them to mingle with their big, brawny, souped up supermarket cousin, I begin to wonder…Why do I eat supermarket strawberries?


I know why. Because I am a spoiled rotten, American consumer who thinks bigger is better, and wants strawberries to be available in my fridge at all times of the year.

There. I said it.

When one looks at the ginormous strawberry compared to the little homemade ones, I can’t help but wonder “what about my antioxidants?” Are they still in there? Are they “souped up” as well? Are they even antioxidants anymore or are they something new -a genetically modified, 2.0 version of themselves? I wonder…is anyone out there studying this?

I am in a pickle, a strawberry pickle!

This year there won’t be enough of the sweet delicate little bumps of red to freeze them, and I don’t know what I’ll do when it’s their time to disappear from my life.

Maybe, I’ll have to accept they are indeed, more powerful than the steroid strawberries. In a tiny, delicate way, they are subtly changing me and my American attitude.

Sometimes, all it takes is a picture!


Let's talk about that walk...

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