Relative Something

Cyndie’s strawberry patch is still in its infancy but we did get a pretty respectable first crop this year.

Toward the end, I noticed a squirrel had taken quite a liking to being inside the netted perimeter fence. Every time I walked by, the intruder would startle and panic, botching several times in his attempt to climb out before succeeding.

I think Cyndie had picked most of the ripened fruit by the time the squirrel developed its interest.

Eating a perfectly ripened strawberry that was picked from the plant that very day has me wanting to evermore avoid the overly-firm, tasteless version of the fruit available year-round in grocery stores.

There is just no comparison.

Of course, my heightened sensitivity to a problematically short window of ideal ripeness for all fruit plays a big role in determining my level of satisfaction. The duration of time between too green and too ripe for my liking when it comes to bananas is measured in minutes. For oranges and apples, it’s more like days.

Texture plays a big part in influencing my acceptance of most fruits. Growing strawberries at home and serving them shortly after they were picked has spoiled me a little.

I may need to revert to only eating fruit that’s in-season like we used to do before global shipping became an everyday occurrence.

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