This morning I was up early, (well early for me- the boy's summer alarm clocks have apparently gone off and the earlier they can get up to take advantage of playing, wreaking havoc on the house and pursuing beetles, bugs and butterflies all the better- for them....) I was out front looking at the hydrangeas. I am fairly certain they have almost tripled in size this week.
I have mentioned my love of all hydrangea once or twice, right?
When amidst all of this glorious green, what do I spy with my little eye?
One rogue, red, ripe wild strawberry. I have not planted any strawberries. (Thus the wild part, I guess....) In the almost eight years we have been here there have been no strawberry sightings. Hello wee one- nice of you to visit.
I was going to divide it up- but as it was a very small strawberry, that didn't work out. It was too tiny to split in half even for the boys. In the end, a very naughty Weimaraner overcome with desire took it upon himself to solve my dilemma of who should eat the strawberry in question. Well. Strawberries are one of his many favorites. I hope he enjoyed himself. Then he washed it down with some of Ezra's milk. I am quite certain he does not know he is a dog.