Strawberry Summer

My strangest summer in recent memory began on April 27 when I fell off my bicycle, breaking my left elbow and right hand. That was 4 1/2 months after breaking my left collarbone. I’d have difficulty expressing how depressing the whole episode has been. Winter for me is downright depressing so I count on the other three seasons to not be downers. Oh, well…

Eventually my bones healed; but it was mid-summer when I finally got my golf game on, although my results have been a mixed bag. I’ve been shooting between low-nineties to mid-eighties at my home course, then well into the one hundred teens at other venues. Humbling. Frustrating. Infuriating.

Eventually my game settled down, sort of. The front nine most days reflects excessive scores; the back close to what I expect. sboncheerios

Through all this I managed to survive because I had one constant that kept me grounded from mid-spring through summer — strawberries.

I’ve eaten strawberries on ice cream; I’ve eaten them on my morning cereal. If I could find a reason to core and slice the luscious red goodness onto anything I did it. Essentially, the way to sanity during my tribulations has been through a sweet red berry. I’m OK with that.