The rain seeps up into the thin air of the
morning afternoon sky. As a light comes
to shine it's fist that crushing the air that is
for the earth to breath. As a few bushes of
Strawberries are ready to be picked - and
put into a jam so I take my basket to put the
fresh barriers in and use them for strawberry
jam or syurp. I go down each row that is sitting
on the rocks actually in between them - my
picker shovel is pointed heavenward and
towards the blue skies of it coming down to
be with me. I take a moment to try one yes
they are ripe and very good, and juicy but the
problem is when you grow - these wild
strawberries it's the matter of the principle's
of the texture, and the fore skin on the fruit
berry; I kept going until the afternoon sun goes
down and so my mind can rest up for the
night.