Strawberry outing

Field strawberries





Flax field in bloom


I splurged on a small air conditioner for the bedroom. It would have been inhumane to send the girls to sleep there all this week without one.

Tuesday afternoon we went strawberry picking. I only needed enough to make some jam. The earth, roads, fields and trees glowed pastel colours under a muddy sky. We pulled into the laneway at Leeds Berry Farm a minute after it closed for the hot afternoon siesta. The old woman retreating across the lawn didn't even turn to look at us.

Driving around the countryside between Guelph and Cambridge, I found another farm open where we picked six quarts. Gusty wind kept us comfortable.

We went to a shoe factory outlet in Kitchener to shop for Marian. It was supposed to be a graduation gift from my parents. She hates footwear, so we left empty-handed.

At a farm market, I was reversing out of the parking space when we had a minor collision, technically my fault, but he must have come careening blindly off the main road. No damage to the Sunfire, and he let me go without blame. Only my nerves were jarred.

So was strawberry jam: three pints and two half-pint jars.