Last weekend Anson and I were on our way home from the computer store and planned to stop for some veggies for the week. Fortunately, we were going right by a produce store I used to frequent called Smith Farms. Actually, to call it a produce store is really not accurate. It's a permanent screened tent with a gravel parking lot, tables of produce and a field in back. You don't see a lot of places like this in Orange County, especially just steps from the 405. It's totally exotic, and an institution at the same time. There is always a line, and in true OC fashion you sometimes have to wait for a parking space while the BMWs and Suburbans pull out. Besides all that, it really is such a wholesome place I almost feel like pinching my own cheeks whenever I'm there.
We got our veggies, and as we were checking out, the man helping us leaned over and said, "You know, the strawberries are very sweet. We just picked them this morning." He gestured towards the field behind him. Well, who really needs to be sold on buying strawberries? Not us. We nodded as if he were telling us the secret of life, and obediently grabbed a carton of berries. You know, after we tried the strawberries I think maybe he was telling us more than he knew he was. They were sweet, delicious and perfect. Such a small thing, but so much enjoyment.
I think about how the memories of these small pleasures are what make up our perception of our lives as time goes by. Memories combine and bubble away over time. If we let them, the bad memories and hurt sink to the bottom. By the time we're old we've distilled a ration of happiness that we drink daily and recall that our life was full of pleasure and we are thankful for all that we've experienced.
i love this time of year. i just ate the most delicious fresh nectarine. each bite was so sweet and juicy. it just makes me feel like a little kid barefoot and playing in the yard.
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