Posted by: crispygoldenflaky | March 18, 2010

a moment

This morning was a calming, 45-minute loop around Club Blvd.  I passed a playground and wanted to stop and swing but I had started the run too late and the swings were all the little-kid-wrap-around-your-butt kind.  I passed Scott’s house and paused my Carbon Leaf as I admired the cozily modest houses that lined Carolina and Englewood.  Scott’s place is really boho and decked out in ethnic doodads, and I’m excited about potentially housesitting for him because he is never home.  If I’m staying in Durham for the summer, I would love to live around this area!

Then, I passed this patch of daffodils, seriously standing out in a gravel parking lot because they were a) in a gravel lot and b) exceedingly symmetrical.  I know daffodils are supposed to be pretty symmetrical (6-pointed star) but these had even petals and their bulbs were stupendously alive.
I still haven’t even come close to figuring out the connections in my brain, but this made me CRAVE strawberries.  I mean, huge, green cartons of strawberries from the Lyons Farms stand at the farmers market on a humid Durham morning.

(Flashback!  Nostalgia!)

Knowing that the strawberries were coming and would therefore give way to a weekend full of strawberry shortcakes, strawberry-greek yogurt-granola parfaits, strawberry and moz salads, pureed strawberries baked into fudgy chocolate brownies, made the trek through sticky morning humidity worthwhile.

Em got a large fruit platter from Grace’s the other day and there were strawberries present, but they were too symmetrical and such a plasticy red that it was almost suffocatingly so.  I’m pretty nostalgic for strawberries right now.  The oddly-shaped, sometimes way too small, wondrous and freshly picked bursts of juice in my mouth are all I want right now.  It’s strange that I got over the fact that strawberries leave seeds and pieces of sand in my teeth (because I lacked the patience to clean them thoroughly, especially if JUST got my basket and was munching on the walk home).  I used to avoid foods that would leave pieces in my teeth like broccoli, blackberries, and heavily peppered things.

Strawberries remind me of waking up after a night of being gently rocked to sleep in the tiny guest bedroom of the Couches’s houseboat to find hot biscuits and open prize jars of Mama Couch’s jam made with only the necessary ingredients.  They are known to me in the form of shivering strawberry goup that I would spoon over buttery pound cake after a summer dinner.  An instance where a more serious dessert wouldn’t have been appropriate.  Cool whip is always necessary here, of course!  For Ahma, strawberries are evidently only edible when coated heavily in sugar.  Tartness is not a happening thing in her life.  So we would sit there on lazy summer days, dumping out a carton of strawberries and placing them in a row in a gradient from vermilion to dark-red.  She would start from the dark-red and dip the tips in the sugar bowl.  I would start from the vermilion and blast the hell out of my audacious sour tastebuds.  We would go one-for-one until they were gone.


Post-run, I had coffee of the way-too-much variety and a reese peanut butter cup oats mess.  Oats, milk, ground flax seed, peanut butter, and a sprinkle of chocolate chips.  A sinfully necessary start to a long day!  Leaving for Charlotte in a little with Kaitlin and Bobby.

“The absolute yearning of one human body for another particular body and its indifference to substitutes is one of life’s major mysteries.”

-Iris Murdoch



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