[CFrance]

We used to sail in the North Channel, between Canada and the US. Mostly you would anchor overnight or stop at a small marina. A lot of the islands up there were Native American land, and technically you weren't supposed to go ashore without permission. But the kids who lived there would pick wild blueberries and sell them to us tourists. Best ever blueberries.

When I was a kid at our summer place at Lake Erie, we had a meadow katty-cornered to our property. Wild strawberries grew there. They were tiny, and we would spend hours with our mother picking them. She made strawberry jam out of a lot of them, but what I remember most is eating them out of hand. The only strawberry that's ever compared to them was one I found during a walk on a country road in Elk Rapids, Michigan. There it was, one tiny strawberry in a plant on the side of the road. Exactly like the ones we picked as kids.

I wish I could say I picked that strawberry and took it home to my friend's cottage to wash and then eat. But no. I was so excited I stupidly popped that sucker right into my mouth. And it was as good a wild strawberry as I remembered from my childhood. Who knows what was on that strawberry. Some dog, maybe... Well whatever, I didn't get sick, I'm still here, and I have those two memories.