“In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.”

[Dave Grubb]

― Alfred Tennyson, Works of Alfred Lord Tennyson

Now I find that an old man's fancy turns to other pursuits of pleasure ----and memories of the past I am going to risk a story and possible attack---but the hell with it

First, it is a gorgeous day here---nearing 70 and mostly sunny. The nicest day of this year.

I did grocery shopping this afternoon----and got sucked in by strawberries--- 2 lb. for $5. They looked wonderful---but two weeks ago I got suckered by a similar offer from Mexico and they turned out to be the epitome of looks good tastes bad But----but---these said "Florida"---and I was hooked

I wasn't in the house more than a minute when I tested the biggest, most deep red strawberry in the bunch---and I was rewarded with that sweet taste that seems to reside in so few mass marketed strawberries these days.

I recalled my youth when my Mother would make shortbread and we would have strawberry shortcake for dinner-----ONLY strawberry shortcake----with strawberries from the patch and cold Golden Guernsey cream poured over it-----all in big soup bowls. I was like a pig at the feed trough

I have to repeat the grocery store on Friday to leverage sale items in preparation for a big St Patrick's Day feast on Sunday----I have to go past the strawberries to get to the corned beef

[UTAH]

Strawberry shortcake - one of our best food creations.

My problem with fruit: Not appropriate to taste it in the grocery store. Yet, how does one know it's good?

And, a young man's fancy? Looking back, I remember the singular thing that was - women.

Hunter