...my other brother Darryl

Darryl Strawberry's ancestors were geniuses. Not only did they produce a great baseball player but they had the best last name of all time.

Strawberry.

Yesterday I went into our little garden and picked a small basket of fresh strawberries.

We grew 'em, we picked 'em and WE ATE 'EM!

And MAN WERE THEY GOOD!!!

Last year we tried to grow strawberries but ended up with only two, one of which I gave to my neighbor, Mark, for his gardening encouragement over the summer.

But this year, I vowed, would be different!

This year I fashioned a cage around the plants. This year I cordonned them off from the rest of the garden. This year I created a garden within a garden for our little beauties.

And this year it worked!

This year we have only lost a few, mostly to bugs and maybe a nibbling somebody who crawled through the mesh. #*%!

This year, so far, I've harvested about 18 big red orbs of strawberry magnificence.

THIS YEAR WE HAD MORE THAN TWO!!

And I ate a few right there at cageside. Right there, on my hands and knees, I pulled a strawberry from the vine (not really a vine, in the Tarzan sense, but more of a plant, on the ground, with tentacles)and popped it in my mouth.

The taste was unbelievable. It was unlike the ones in the store. Or a restaurant.

It was fresh.

And we grew it. In our own garden.

Me... a gardener...!?

Who knew...