Fresh Strawberries

When I first began writing this, I thought I was going to write on exercise, and how I started Jazzercise tonight. But as I sit here finishing off the Arkansas strawberries we got at the farmer's market, I started thinking these really are the best strawberries ever. I know it isn't that they are "Arkansas" berries, but that they are local berries. They really aren't the best ever. The best ever strawberries came from my grandfather's backyard garden. PapPaw lived in Nashville, Tennesse and I lived in Louisiana. We would go to visit for a week or two every summer. When we first walked into his house the first thing I ask, "PapPaw you got any strawberries this year". Sometimes we would be too late, other times too early; most of the time he would reply, "Sugar, I have just enough left for you". He was known for his strawberries and his tomatoes. My aunt liked to say he kept all the "widow ladies" supplied with summer vegetables. He grew things for the love of growing. So as I eat this last strawberry (and hoping they are still around next weekend), I think of a humble man, who loved to grow things for the love of growing and sharing. He really did grow the best strawberries ever. And yes, he called me Sugar. This one's for you PapPaw!