Barbara J. Hamby

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The Last Strawberry

A cold wind is blowing the leaves around this morning. I spent a few minutes outside, deadheading flowers. I guess it’s time to put the lawn furniture away. The last strawberry of the season was not as sweet as earlier ones. If it had been, a bird or squirrel would have taken a bite before I got there, I’m sure.

If it warms up this afternoon, I’ll separate gladiolus to share.

The transitions of the fall season don’t feel as smooth this year as previously. Each reminder of time passing is mildly painful. The loss of relatives and friends is a sharper pain.

Spring will come again. The sun will shine and those of us left behind will slowly heal.