Friday, July 3, 2015

Strawberry swing.

One of my favorite activities of summer is berry picking.  As a child we would suit up in jeans and long sleeved shirts to wrestle blackberry bushes.  We would stain our little fingers as we filled our white gallon buckets as full as our little arms could carry.  We would make jam, cobblers, and just plain pop them in our mouths. 

Hot, sweet, sticky, strawberries.  Little barefeet, and salty skin.  These are the moments summer was made for.  Henry may have lasted 5 minutes before announcing he was done picking but I loved every moment of it and I hope he learns to adore this little summer tradition. 

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