Jammin'

I cannot buy strawberries from a grocery store. Every once in a while I think that they look pretty good and smell alright so I buy a box and I am always dissappointed and the box doesn't get eaten. A strawberry that hasn't been freshly picked hardly even tastes like a strawberry.

Which explains my utter excitement about visiting the fam during strawberry season. We've had strawberries on our salads (spinach, chicken, bacon bits, strawberries, with your favorite vinagrerette .. delish!), strawberry lemonade (made from lemons off my parent's tree .. yes, I am bragging, is that OK?), strawberries and cream, strawberry smoothies, and of course,

STRAWBERRY JAM!

Kirsten (Kirsten and my mom? Think Anne Shirley and Diana Barry) promises that strawberry jam is a food group in and of itself and I would like to think that when made in good company the calories don't count. It was a reassuring thought, at least, as I added lots and lots and lots of sugar to the strawberries.

While William was content to steer clear of the kitchen and my Dad was relieved that the blessed jam-making event happened while he was at work, Marie couldn't stay away. A true girl, even at such a young age.

We've already gone through a jar.

Strawberries will always be in season in heaven, I am sure of it.