“Such a beautiful day.” Calliope scrolled through pictures and her memories. “A lot happened in a few hours.” “Sweet.” Each one of us is merely a small instrument. When you look at the inner workings of electrical things, often you see small and big wires, new and old, cheap and expensive lined up. Until the current passes through them, there will be no light. That wire is you and me. The current is God. We have the power to let the current pass through us, produce the light of the world. Or we can refuse to be used and allow darkness to spread. ~Mother Theresa
Having worked in a food packing plant in the testing lab. I've sworn off strawberries for reasons I won't elaborate. Scrolled to the end and almost deleted until you got me with the Mother T quote. Wonderful. Thank you.
I love strawberries!!! I'm with Bruce, I would not buy strawberries in the supermarket... but going and picking them in a place I know how they work the land, I am the first one in line. And thank you for the quote Gail. Being the wire is the most beautiful expression of being human, just like the strawberries.
A fantabulous haul of berries. Color through and through. At the sight of the field stretching to the horizon, I immediately got caught up in "Strawberry Fields Forever." I've shared before that grandad called the stems on wild huckleberries "spriggles" and now I see you own a de-spriggling knife!
Thanks for sharing this multi-faceted experience, Gail.
Having worked in a food packing plant in the testing lab. I've sworn off strawberries for reasons I won't elaborate. Scrolled to the end and almost deleted until you got me with the Mother T quote. Wonderful. Thank you.
I love strawberries!!! I'm with Bruce, I would not buy strawberries in the supermarket... but going and picking them in a place I know how they work the land, I am the first one in line. And thank you for the quote Gail. Being the wire is the most beautiful expression of being human, just like the strawberries.
A fantabulous haul of berries. Color through and through. At the sight of the field stretching to the horizon, I immediately got caught up in "Strawberry Fields Forever." I've shared before that grandad called the stems on wild huckleberries "spriggles" and now I see you own a de-spriggling knife!
Thanks for sharing this multi-faceted experience, Gail.