Picking Summer Strawberries
In a world which seems to spin on a hyperactive axis,the slow act of picking fruit has taught me to appreciate just how beautiful lifecan be. At the height of summer, my mother’s garden is a sumptuous mix ofcolorful perennials and vegetables. One of my favorite things to do is walkbarefoot in the garden and feel the warm dirt squishing between my toes. Thispleasant diversion, however, must be taken with caution, because my mother may behidden in the corn patch or tall perennials. This is her kingdom, and if she seesa subject lolling about, she will command help with weeding or picking. Picking fruit, however, isn’t that horrible a chore. Sometimes my mother willcall my father, sister and me out to pick strawberries. “It won’t take but 15minutes if we all help,” she tells us. This family effort produces baskets fullof sweet, fresh fruit, which we all enjoy. While picking, I feel close tothe earth which yields almost all the goods I enjoy every day. It is easy toforget this vital connection. I also am close to people I love and love spendingtime with. The 15 minutes with my family on these days calm my mind and help mefocus on important things, not just the everyday nuisances that sometimes consumeme. It helps me regain my center.