We picked the first strawberries of the season yesterday. There is nothing like a Michigan strawberry and they're well worth the wait. The memory of our Michigan berries enables me to keep walking past the morbidly huge berries, grotesque and hollow, that show up in grocery stores in April from irrigated desert fields. The reason Michigan and other places in the Upper Midwest grow the best vegetables and fruits in the world is because of our adequate rainfall, warm days and cool nights.
I like to mash them up with a bit of sugar and spoon them over vanilla ice cream for dessert. A dollop of real whip cream on top adds a special touch. If you take the time to whip up some biscuits or shortcake you'll have Michigan's best early summer dessert on your table. Wherever you are, should you see Michigan berries for sale, snap them up. They're worth whatever price you have to pay.
With my garden approaching forty fifty-foot rows on one side of the driveway and nine two-hundred foot rows on the other side, my hands hurt tonight and my legs are crampy. Tomorrow I'm taking a break from the garden to paint and work on my query letter and my ideal agent list, the perfect agent who will guide me to an editor and a publisher and a rewarding writing life.
Three Hail Marys for an agent, and editor, and a rewarding writing life.
Monday, June 8, 2009
I love it that I have followers. I love comments. You make it all worthwhile. It's exhilirating to know that there is someone out there who is reading my modest little posts. And if I can inspire you to venture out on your own creations, well, that's what it's all about. Whether it be a garden, a painting, a poem or short story, learning to knit or quilt . . . go for it! And now it's raining here in Michigan's fat, verdant thumb. And I am surrounded by books and works-in-progress and garden catalogs and family down the road, close but not too close. The lights are on and my laptop is virus free. Stay with me.