At the End of the Road

Every June of my childhood (well, every year I can remember), my sisters and I walked (or rode bikes) to the end of our country road to visit the strawberry stand. We would taste-test, help with customers, and occasionally buy strawberries. Later on, we worked in the strawberry fields, sometimes bumming a ride on the truck loaded with flats of berries, at the end of a hot day....back to the end of our road.

I remember the ancient salt-of-the-earth guy who manned the stand. He rolled his own cigarettes. It was fascinating to watch. I remember walking the road in bare feet, popping the hot tar bubbles with our toes.

Luke took the walk with Bambi a couple days ago, to buy two little boxes of strawberries. They feasted on the way home, popping tar bubbles (well, at least Luke did). We have dropped by the stand several times this season, purchasing each time a flat of strawberries to freeze for smoothies all winter long. I hope my boys will treasure the memories of innocent childhood pleasures.