The best things in life are free: wild strawberries

wild strawberries

One of my earliest memories is pilfering wild strawberries from the garden before school. The plants were concealed, nestled under bushes and, being only little, I had the advantage when it came to spotting these tiny jewel-like berries.

A flash of red, a darting hand, a burst of sweet, nectar-like pulp on the tongue and then it melted away; the juicy rush all too quickly replaced by the dry, resinous scent of pencil sharpenings and the growing anxiety as morning break approached and the dreaded carton of lukewarm milk loomed.

Today, my dad may have a different garden but I am still the littlest—all the better for tracking down a smultronstallet…

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