tax time is strawberry time.

I will never forget the roadside sign on Highway 20 that made its appearance this time every year. "Tax time is strawberry time." Kind of a dumb sign, but I will always remember to go pick strawberries at the local farm come mid-April. This year we headed over to Southern Belle Farms in McDonough with my mom and my Granny to get our fresh berries, and boy, were they the freshest. We went on opening day, so we got first dibs on the brightest, juiciest berries on the vine. Yummmmo!


P really got into it this year compared to last. There were so many perfect starwberries on the vine, we could have picked all day. Here's P trying to select the perfect one.



Look at my boy toting that heavy bucket of berries around like he's Mr. Macho. (And please ignore the long hair hanging out of his hat. This boy needs a haircut like every week. I can't keep up. Oh, and we had a slight encounter with the mud. He and I were both covered.)



Great granny is so good with P. And he adores her.



Counting the berries. This boy loves to count. He can count to ten with his eyes closed while hanging upside down.




We also checked out the farm animals. They have cows and sheep and goats and bunnies. P kept his distance.


But, he has talked about the animals every day since.


We had a great time at the farm. And an even better time enjoying our fresh strawberries served over home made pound cake.