berry

There's a little patch of wild strawberries growing on a tiny strip of grass between our and our neighbor's attached house. They look nice, and give our row-home with a 2 square foot lawn a more rural feel.

Today Maureen picked some. As soon as I saw them I started to imagine what they'd taste like, and more importantly how great it would be to eat something that grew wild in our own backyard. My poorly suppressed inner hippie starting grooving to visions of living off the land, growing all our own organic produce, and sitting around with all of my new hippies friends talking about all of our various problems with "The Man."

While I set-up my camera and photographed these little gifts from Mother Earth, I moved on to imagining new scenarios where my independence from "The Man" would finally free me to quit my job and pursue some new found passion like pet massage, hand-crafting pillows made out of human hair, or operating a Ponzi scheme.

As I finished photographing them I popped one of those tiny miracles of earth's bounty into my mouth. I was confident it would be the single greatest piece of food I'd ever eaten, nourishing body and soul, and fundamentally changing my outlook on life.

I chewed it once before realizing the horrible mistake I'd made. Somehow this plant must have been genetically modified to grow bitter red pieces of styrofoam that look like wild strawberries. A wonder of science for sure, but disgusting to eat.

All hippie plans are permanently on hold, and I'm afraid I won't be accepting any orders for hair pillows.