The husband does not like berries. Berries of any kind. Actually, he will say he doesn’t like “erries” to make sure cherries are included in the whole category. Oranges, yum. Apples, yum. Berries of any kind and it’s the “gas face” . You know, that face that people make when they smell gas. His brother Jimmy will always act surprised when some sort of berry is served at a meal and the husband doesn’t want any part of it. Jimmy will then say something like “YOU DON’T LIKE [INSERT NAME OF BERRY?]!!!!sounding completely shocked, like he’s never heard this before. And when told “no” Jim will then launch into a laundry list of every berry he can possible think of at that time. What about raspberries? Blueberries? Boysenberries? Blackberries? It goes on and on. And we are always amused. What a simple bunch we are.

So…speaking of berries, here’s a box of berries that I’m working on. They are strawberries from the farmer’s market in Union Square. My friend Judy took a beautiful photo of them which I used as reference. I still have to complete the tops of the berries with green and firm up some of the shadows. Next week it should be done.

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