Backyard Strawberry Picking
When it comes to plant care, I know almost nothing. Every house plant I've ever owned has died within weeks (except for one hardy little aloe plant.) It's why I don't have a pet. But hey, I figured I'd give kids a shot. So far so good.
All of this is a long and somewhat nonsensical introduction to saying that my garden is kind of wild and mostly has to fend for itself. At some point John planted a strawberry plant offshoot and a couple of years later our garden is absolutely filled with strawberry plants. You could even say the garden is... jammed with strawberries. You could say that, but I won't. Because that's not funny.
The wonderful thing is that those strawberries are oh so delicioso. But it didn't take long for Violet to learn that. So now I have the hefty responsibility of keeping my fourteen-month-old from eating all of our strawberries whenever she's outside. And that girl doesn't care if they're red, pink, green, or brown, she eats them all equally. And equally unwashed. And equally preeaten by bugs and animals.
Although strawberry guard duty is not so fantastic, watching the bigger girls get to discerningly pluck the ripe strawberries and then eating them together to a chorus of "yums" and satisfied sighs is pretty great.
Boater Hat: Target
Top: Merona (last year) // Skirt: ASOS (old)