No, not Santa, sorry. Even better:

The best part about living in the country - especially where we are - is that you never need to drive too far for berry-pickin’ in the summer.

We made sure not to be too greedy this season. Last summer we ended up with two full gallon bags that I froze for no apparent reason than to toss away in the winter. I’m not exactly the jam-making type.

Good grief. Can you imagine me?

Crisp red-and-white checkered apron, stirring strawberries stewing in a pot, lipsyncing to the Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields Forever“, sunlight streaming through the window pane and smells of scones baking in the oven wafting through the house, rosy-cheeked children playing quietly under the dinner table, waiting patiently for their treats?

Don’t know which part is more improbable - me wearing an apron or the children playing quietly.

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