We headed out with the Butler gang to the Strawberry fields over Memorial Day weekend. I knew Lucy would have a great time and eat her share in the fields. I knew Ian would love seeing friends and getting his hands dirty in the fields. We knew Jamie Butler would be most excited about the cheese fries they serve at the restaurant we visit afterwards. I knew I would be excited about making jam with Bridget the following week. I figured Harper would just be along for the ride. I was wrong.
From the onset, she took command of the field. She saw what we were doing, yelled for a strawberry, was presented one, and it was all systems go from there. She decided to plop herself right down next to a strawberry bush that was brimming with berries and she ate them. All. She would stuff them in her mouth, sandy, with straw still attached, and whole, and eat them one at a time, but about one every second. She was a pig in a, well, strawberry field. Her chin dribbled juice, her clothes were covered in red froth and she would grunt and moan and giggle with pure happiness. It even brought on a bit of a food dance. She would bounce and dance while shoving them in her mouth. It was pure love. Juicy, sticky, color-yourself-red, berry love.
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