Early one late spring morning I drove out to Cape Elizabeth to pick strawberries, craving some for breakfast, and maybe some inspiration. I got both.
Pickers were already scattered across the field by the time I got there. Youngsters were grazing, their mouths smeared in red. Mothers were giving the "this is not something we do" talk, to no avail. There were also a couple of serious muti-tray make-jam-and-freeze-it grandmothers gathering for the winter months. And then there were the rest of us rookies - picking for a meal or for something "springish" to do while the sun lasted.
The light was a typical Maine morning haze - soft and bright as it filtered through the trees dissolving what was left of night's lingering dark. At one point, I stood up and took a look around. And that's when I saw it. There we were, my fellow boomerettes and I humming Chelsea Morning as we lumbered along, picking and eating psychedelic strawberries in the nude. It was a Get Me Back To The Garden Strawberry Fields Forever Elder Boomer Happening.
The Get Me Back To The Garden Strawberry Fields Forever Elder Boomer Happening • 8" X 8" acrylic framed to 12" X 12" • $200
The light was a typical Maine morning haze - soft and bright as it filtered through the trees dissolving what was left of night's lingering dark. At one point, I stood up and took a look around. And that's when I saw it. There we were, my fellow boomerettes and I humming Chelsea Morning as we lumbered along, picking and eating psychedelic strawberries in the nude. It was a Get Me Back To The Garden Strawberry Fields Forever Elder Boomer Happening.
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