Daddy had a hankering for strawberries and Momma had a bunch from her late-crop strawberry patch. She converted the surplus into jam. Fresh, homegrown strawberry jam.
I happened to be over there doing some piddling task and Momma asked me if I'd like to take home a pint. Would I? Why of course!
So, for breakfast, I'm having biscuits and strawberry jam. In all of heaven, there is surely not this much flavor.
Note to my sisters: Nyah-nyah-nyah. I got mine.
1 comment:
Okay, stop it: sitting at my desk, drooling all over my keyboard.
Puts me in mind of my first visit to Missouri and tasted ripe, wild strawberries for the first time.
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