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| Wild strawberries along the highway in the Rockies. |
We went for a drive out west yesterday. That in itself is something for which I am grateful, but it is not the subject of this post.
We stopped to admire a tree a few steps off the highway in the magnificent mountain forest.
It is a lovely time of year to visit the west country. Alpine flowers are in bloom, bear and deer and sheep are gorging themselves as best they can, and right now the wild strawberries are in full burst of flavour.
We had wild berries in our lawn when I was growing up. I have a few in my lawn right now. They're fine and tasty, but the ones in the wild are better.
Perhaps it is the fresh mountain air, maybe it is knowing the animals themselves eat of this fare, but in truth I think it is because in the wild is closer to the source.
It grows because it can, it always has, and it must.
It follows its own law of survival and continuance.
This berry exists to ensure the lives of others. It is meant as food and if it has any self-knowledge it knows it and gives of itself willingly.
This selfless act is love in one of its finest forms: sacrifice to save another. It is done with joy and that joy, that love, is what gives this wild food its edge.
Thank you, wild strawberry.
