The strawberry patch

It's hot already in Colorado, but mornings are nice. I get up early and that's one bonus, an hour or so that's blissfully cool, followed by a couple of hours that feel like the change in seasons, warm breezes and the scents of plants. By the time my daughter and I got out into the yard it was past that, edging toward hot, but we didn't mind.

Our house sits below a hill, with tiers and walls holding it in place. The lower yard is the kids' play yard, and we're lucky if the grass grows. The middle yard has a big cherry tree, and if I keep an eye out I can get a few cherries off it before the birds have them all. The grass is thicker there, and there are lilacs and peonies, very sweet this time of year. It's the yard for sitting in the shade and relaxing.

Up at the top is the meadow. It wasn't planned that way, but after two years of dragging a mower and other equipment up there I gave up on it and said it would grow what it wanted. We'd planted strawberries and raspberries on one side, other things too but those took hold and prospered on their own. Strawberries are aggressive, with enough water they'll spread into most any ground, and it's been fun to see it spread from a few plants to a real strawberry patch.

Jasmine and I climbed up the hill, visiting each plant along the way. I tell her what each one is, who put it there or if it grew by itself (the lilacs and aspens are all volunteers). She says the name back to the plant and touches the leaves. I found a good cherry for her and she was surprised at how sour, but she likes them. Then up to the top, where we sat in the strawberry patch.

I could get religious about strawberries. They are proof of -- something. That evolution produces beauty and sweetness along with strength and power, my sensible brain says, and there's nothing wrong with feeling awe over that. They are secret treasures. Turn over the broad leaves of green and red, hunt through what remains after the birds and rabbits have been there, and then suddenly there's a perfect little strawberry. Maybe even a big one, a few times a year, but they all taste wonderful, warm from the sun, sour and sweet. A gift back to those who live there.

It got hot, so we came back down. There was a hose and water and squirting and squealing, and I'm smiling about that too, but mostly about strawberries.