There are a few things about every season that makes your childhood memories come alive. Often they are connected to one of our senses, may it be visual, something we smell, hear or feel. Like picking wild strawberries from the side of the road. We picked many. A whole plate full and when Nelly tasted her first bursting red wild strawberry she cried out in delight:
"Mama! It tastes of Sweden! And they smell so good. Smell them Mama! So sweet. Try one!"
And I tried one and I was brought back to when I was 11 and picking wild strawberries at my Dad's summer house. I remember exactly where on the curvy dirt road it was and I remember the cows grazing near by. I can even remember the denim shoes with white laces I was wearing at the time. And my blue and white stripy T-shirt. And I remember the excitement of finding not just one but filling up a long straw of red delight. And I sure remember the sweet and intense fragrance of wild strawberries in a coffee cup. That is something very special indeed. It is the moments that counts. Building memories. Every day.