Short Edition

Hello everyone out there in the Blogosphere!  Today is Strawberry Day at our house.

Last year because of the unseasonably warm temperatures in early spring, the strawberries ripened and forgot to let us know, so we missed out on our yearly trip to Wooster.  But more than that, we missed out on having our wonderful strawberry jam, not only for ourselves but also to give to family members.  We somewhat made up for it by getting peaches and making peach jam instead but the longer the time went by, the more I missed our strawberry jam.

So today we venture off to Wooster on a windy, twisty, confusing trip that takes us right into a short allotment street.  The first time we went there, I thought for sure we were completely lost.  How could there be an orchard in an allotment?  Turns out, the orchard IS the allotment.  All of the houses on one side of the road have back yards that go right up to the edges of the orchard.  What a great place to live!!

They grow specific things there -- strawberries, red raspberries, black raspberries, and peaches that we know of.  And melons and vegetables too, but it's the fruit that draws us there.

We were looking for an orchard about five years ago or maybe it's even been longer, and I found Mauer's by looking on-line.  They are well known in the Wooster area for their berries.  The first day they were open for business this year was Tuesday, since before that they had a contract with Buehler's for their berries. 

All winter long there is something soothing and inviting about homemade jam on toast, on pancakes, and on regular waffles and Belgium waffles.  It tells me in so many ways that winter will pass, because of the wonders of the spring and summer that are right in front of me on my plate.  Winter is easier to bear with that little special morning treat.

On a slightly different note, don't you notice how certain news stories resonate more than others, and that you find yourself trying to find out what is happening long beyond the hype that started things off?  I do that.  The lady who went to remember a long lost Marine who died at the hands of a sniper in 1944 on Peleliu in the Gilbert Islands looked into a display case and saw her former sweetheart's words to her.  She is 90 years old, and the diary he wrote was supposed to be returned to her in the event of his death but somehow the simple request he had made was never honored.  She found it herself with some guiding hands.  The curators made a photocopy of it so she could read it at her leisure at home.  For her part as the display was being readied, she had donated his class ring she had kept for about 70 years and the letters he had sent her from his fairly short time in the Marines.  She didn't have to say the words, that she still loved him. 

Why do some stories touch us so much?  My thinking is that it hits a nerve, touches our heart in some specific way because it echoes our own feelings in some sense of it. 

Making memories -- that's the theme of this day's posting I guess.  For life has a lot of ordinary days, days that save for a little sparkle here or there would not be particularly special.  For me, strawberry day is making some of those memories.  For the lady who found the diary, she went to sleep one night as a 90-year-old and went to bed the next night as a 20-year-old because of memories.

Her sweetheart had won a little money at cards during training and in the diary he said he knew just what he would do with it.  He would take his sweetheart out for a wonderful date.  He would spend it on her, all of it, making memories.

Let not today or tomorrow be ordinary.  For in God's eyes, there are no ordinary days.