The early sun caught the ragged edges of the mountains.

Across the fields the river mist staggered into the ditches

Fleeing from the brilliance of the morning.

She turned her face to sun and thought

“And what is so rare as a day in June?

Then, if ever, comes perfect days.

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how

The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.”

She stepped into the field.

The field sweet and calm.



She gathered the luscious, ruby-red treasures.

Filling box after box with strawberry and cream.

Strawberry short cake.

Strawberry jam.

Then tucked a white strawberry flower into her pocket.

“Mr. Lowell is right” she thought.

“It was going to be a rare day for picking  strawberries.

A summer solstice day.”




We pick strawberries on beautiful Westham Island.  This tiny island of lush farmland is located in  an arm of the Fraser River just outside our small village of Ladner.  You reach the island by a single lane bridge that  occasionally opens for passing boats.

(James Russell Lowell (1819-1891) was an American romantic poet, critic, editor  and diplomat.)




    • The problem with picking strawberries – is it becomes addictive. You can’t stop picking because just ahead is even more luscious group of berries. And when you take an 18 pound box of strawberries home their fragrance fills the house. Have a grand Sunday Jo Nell. XX V.

  1. Oh for lovely joy!!! What hat did you wear on this marvelous adventure? What fun…….I did recall the blueberry picking trip we shared with you when Augustine and his picking partner ate all of their berries! HA…..I say that the good Buddha should have one in his lap also! Just lovely…….what songs played in your head? Oh, you just delight me!

    • She wore a red panama straw hat. They sang ..”’let me take you down cause it’s strawberry fields forever”. Then they filled their kitchen with the hot sweet smell of strawberry jam. Thirty jars of the tasty darlings… to be served warm to The Tin Man and his Augustine.

  2. Wonderful post!
    It brings back so many memories for me. My aunt and uncle were farmers, and early every summer I would spend days with my aunt plucking the green from the strawberries so she could make her jams.
    Later, her son much older than I, came to own the second largest strawberry patch in Western Canada.
    What a treat!
    Thank you, Virginia! _Resa xo

    • You are a true daughter of the land Resa. What memorable experiences you have enjoyed. You are fortunate to have this connection. It is one very few get to enjoy in these fast paced days. XX OO V.

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