So our strawberries started off with a bang but kind of fizzled a few days ago. Next time around, now that I've done some reading, I'll be putting straw under them when they're flowering, because it was just sad how they got bogged down and slugified without such protection. Who knew? They're called strawberries for a real reason.
The raspberries and wild blackberries, however, are doing fine and dandy. Rick met me out front on my return home last night with a jar full of still-warm berries. Now the agonizing decision is whether we freeze them or can them. Or just keep eating them. Because it sure would be nice to enjoy them later this winter, and I had hinted that I was going to try to give jam for gifts...
Tonight I'm playing hooky from real studio work. I stayed late at work so had to recuperate by putting my tired tired feets up, and dosing myself with lots of chocolate and raspberries. And Pratchett. But tomorow is an art "business day" so it all balances.
I'll be in the car for awhile, but I'm looking forward to it because I'm on the last disc of Steinbeck's "Travels with Charley" and then it's on to Maya Angelou's "A Song Flung up to Heaven," which I haven't heard before. Anytime I get to hear her voice, I certainly love it. What a woman! What a life!