Strawberries

At the farm market I am grabbing the season's first green peppers and tiny summer squash no bigger than my fingers, but Liza only has eyes for the quarts of strawberries. Before I can stop her, she's grabbed a berry and shoved it into her mouth, eyes opening wide in surprise as she gets her first bite of summer, grit and all. "Shtrawbewwy!" she says, dribbling juice from the corners of her mouth until she looks like an extra in a vampire movie. She hands the half-gnawed bit to me and wanders off to play in a mudpuddle while I pop the rest of the mangled berry into my mouth. It tastes sweet, then tart, then like water. It is furry, and gritty, and seedy. Despite the wet, cold weather today, if I close my eyes I can feel the sun on my face and the bugs on my legs, and I can almost hear the mice and snakes hiding among the plants. I'll take two quarts, please, and we'll be back this weekend to pick more.