When I was a little girl, this farm produced strawberries for the local Farmer’s Market. The berries my grandparents grew were known far and wide as some of the best available. They were huge, juicy, red ripe clear to the center and as sweet as sugar. Oh, my mouth waters thinking about them. Sometimes you couldn’t get more than five or six in the quart berry baskets. I wasn’t allowed in the berry patch. My hands stuffed those berries in my mouth much faster than they should have and I kept stepping on the runners because I didn’t understand their importance. But I watched every step of the production and took great pride in driving to town with my Pop-Pop and a pickup load of berries every afternoon.

Another childhood memory from these parts is Ward’s Market, a fresh produce stand that also carries a good variety of Amish made and local delicacies. I had to make a run to town yesterday so I stopped on my way home to see what the market had available. I was thrilled to see home grown strawberries there! As you can see, this isn’t one of your mass produced, farm-factory grown berries. This baby is red straight through, and while the taste is not as sweet as Grandma’s berries, these have excellent flavor. Aromatic, succulent, still warm from the sun. Oh, my…what’s not to love about that?

I found several items to add to my larder. Amish roll butter is my favorite. As little butter as I use, I choose the real deal over the plastic stuff you get in tubs at the grocery stores. Margarine was invented to feed cattle and they wouldn’t eat it so they added food coloring and feed it to us. Delightful. No thanks. I got a jar of sweet heat pickles and black raspberry jam, also made in Amish Country. Then there’s my favorite…Oliverio Hot Peppers in Sauce and Oliverio Spaghetti Sauce….made in Clarksburg, WV. Clarksburg has a high concentration of Italians and there are some wonderful Italian restaurants there. I like to mix these two jars when I’m making spaghetti sauce and add my own touches like black olives, capers, garlic, oregano, onions, hot Italian sausage, mushrooms, red pepper flakes, and three or four mashed anchovies filets. This makes a lovely Putanesca Sauce…a peasant style Sauce from Northern Italy. I’m planning to have a dinner party before I leave for Colorado next month and I think this will be perfect on the menu.

After my foray into town, I mowed the lawn. I had arranged with a young man to mow while I was gone and he didn’t show up so I’ll need to make other plans for when I’m in Colorado. I hate mowing when it’s so deep because you can’t avoid getting clumps of grass everywhere. I ran over a snake with the mower and cut it in half. I really felt bad because it was a black snake and they help keep the rodent population down. I am, however, very glad it wasn’t a copperhead or a rattlesnake! I bought a couple suet feeders in town and set them up. I replenished my thistle supply so I fed the finches. I think everyone is going to be pretty happy out there today.

As I was mowing yesterday, I got to thinking about how much my writing has changed through my grief journey. I go back sometimes and read my early stuff to see how far I’ve come. It’s pretty remarkable actually. There has been an improvement in my writing in general. I think that is to be expected when you write an essay every single day for four years. It’s like skiing. If you don’t improve after skiing every day for four years, you weren’t cut out to be a skier. I also notice my subject matter is much more diverse now. The blinders are off and I can see the world again. And I can interact with it. The reason I’m saying this is, there are new readers who find this page every day. Many of them are fairly new in this widowed life and they may just pass on thinking there is nothing here for them. I would encourage you, if you are new here, to scroll back through the blog to the earlier stuff. I’m sure you will find something to relate to. I guess what I’m getting at is…if you are hurting tonight, if you heart has been broken wide open, if the life you have known and hoped to live forever has fallen in pieces at your feet, please know my heart is with you. We have some really amazing people who frequent this blog. Wonderful, supportive, loving people who understand where you are. If you’re new, please find encouragement in the fact that, four years…three years…two years ago, I was desperately in pain. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t sleep, I ate my pain and put on drastic amounts of weight, and I really didn’t care much what happened to me. Sure, I had joy. I had insights. I had hope. But I certainly had pain. Please take encouragement in the fact that I can take great joy in planning a dinner party and filling the bird feeders and mowing the lawn. The life you want will not come to you. You must walk to it…kinda like an elaborate treasure hunt where the gift you find at the end is…YOU!

Keep searching. Leap moving. Keep coming back. You’re going to make it, dear one. ❤️

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬