Strawberries...

Strawberry Jam.... little watercolor

provide me with the "petite madeleine" experience described by Marcel Proust in In Search of Lost Time....a cascading of involuntary memories.  In between my larger, more laborious, well-thought-out canvasses, I try to pepper my painting experience with smaller works of fruits and vegetables which define my kitchen work.  Tasting one of the large genetically-engineered berries sold in today's marketplace brings back memories of:  berry picking (the small ones)  with my family and the scratches and rashes that ensued; my first attempt at making jam when the paraffin caught on fire and my grandmother came to the rescue; my friend Leta's extraordinary freezer jam; young boys wolfing down berries with stickiness left on small fingers and chins;  and my mom's homemade shortcake.  These memories are small yet significant.  Who is to say that these small works relay a message of lesser importance.  To whom?  For what? 

The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.                                                                                                                                  Henry Miller
(this quote brought to me by my friend Angie whose 3 young boys delight in berries)