It’s slightly early, due to the bizarre warm winter this year, but it’s strawberry season already. I was really, really into the book I was reading and Jon had to drag me out of the house after he got home from work. I must’ve been really into this book because I had no idea it was brilliantly sunny outside. The warm air was shocking to my body, which had previously been wrapped in a fleece blanket left over from college. Still, it was a really good book, and I was grumbling about being drug out of the house and away from my book all the way until we hit the wall of sugar in the air. Literally, we drove out of Saint Blaise, down the highway for five minutes, round the round-about and the air smelled completely like strawberries. Sure enough, there was a large flag flying with the shape of a strawberry, and behind it in the low fields, the hunched backs of people plucking juicy fruit from the straw padded vines.
There are worse ways to spend your evening than snubbing the strawberries that don’t completely fill your palm.
This one looks like a Rhinoceros.