Strawberry season has come and gone. It was a really good season this year. Last year, southern Indiana had a late freeze and heavy rains that wiped out most of the crop, but this year was different.
The first day that we had strawberries, Elaine brought home three gallons. The first bite of fresh strawberries is always amazing. I always hate it when people say "there's nothing like it," when often there are similar things, but I don't know of any fruit that combines the flavor and juiciness of a fresh strawberry.
Of course, January strawberries from Wal-Mart are a different story. They may look a lot like strawberries, but they aren't the same.
I made strawberry ice cream and Elaine made freezer jam. We kept a box on our counter and Anna and Elliot made frequent stops to pop the juicy red berries in their mouths (leaving the caps all over the place).
Now, just a week and a half later, the season is over. Ecclesiastes tells us that for everything there is a season. In my experience, the time for eating fresh strawberries is a lot shorter than the time of planting, weeding, and strawing strawberry plants.
We do not get to choose what season of our lives we are in, when they come, or how long they last. Unfortunately, the human tendency is to wish for the season we are not in, even in the midst of plenty. It spoils things to wish for blueberries in strawberry season, or for sweet corn during blueberry season.
In the end, the greatest blessing is reached when we can enjoy the seasons of our lives as they come and then, gratefully bid them farewell as they leave. For most of the seasons of our lives leave behind treasures and memories that will last for years and even sometimes a few frozen berries and pints of freezer jam.
No comments:
Post a Comment