Sun-drenched gratitude

Right now in our kitchen, Jon is churning a batch of roasted strawberry-buttermilk ice cream. (Note: I started this post hours ago. We have since made quite a dent in the finished batch.) It’s a Jeni’s recipe. If you are not in one of the six cities with a Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams, I am sorry. If you are and haven’t been, go. Now. We picked the strawberries fresh this morning at Bottom View Farm. (Actually, everyone else picked the strawberries while I sat in the car with a sleeping Lina.) Fresh picked strawberries are one of the great delights of spring in this area.

It’s been a fantastic weekend, packed with gatherings of friends and family and lots of time outdoors. Jon even took an actual holiday today.  This morning started with rain showers but cleared in time for our berry picking, and I had a moment to marvel at sun-drenched fields. It made me feel suddenly sad on this Memorial Day for the way-too-many who didn’t make it back from hideous wars far from home. In my own family, we are missing Uncle Donald, my mom’s brother, who died in Vietnam. I don’t often think about those sacrifices, but today, I am grateful.

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