Strawberry picking

I want to go strawberry picking.

I want to load up my freezer with quarts of the sweet-tart things.

Strawberries are ripe with summertime memories.

Strawberries remind me of my grandmother. Her freezer was always full of them. She picked them herself, every year.

The last summer Grandma Rita was alive, she and my mom and my youngest sister came down to visit me in central Iowa, and we went to Berry Patch Farm.

The box I'm holding in this photo contains sour cherries. My grandma's holding raspberries. Our trove of strawberries was probably hidden on the counter behind us.

I miss my grandma.

I miss berry picking, too.

I haven’t gone since that summer.

That’s why I’m so glad to have WindHarvest Farms here in the Nebraska Panhandle.

I bought two pounds of strawberries from Diane when she was at the Open A Bar 2 Ranch open house a few weeks ago.

My homemade whole-wheat waffles were never so tasty.

My idea of a breakfast of champions.

I was quite bummed to have been working last weekend and missed out on the WindHarvest Farms strawberry festival. But I haven’t missed out on the strawberries.

The berries are out there right now, furiously ripening in this sudden blast of summer heat.

I plan to get out there sometime this weekend, preferably on the coolest possible day, since the farm doesn’t open for picking until 2 p.m. (Wednesday through Sunday).

If you’ve got kids, or grandkids, and you live within a reasonable drive of Henry, Nebraska, why not go pick some strawberries and make some memories?

Copyright 2011 by Katie Bradshaw