TP: (Strawberries) Into the Clouds

This is my favorite little corner of the garden, the one you have to walk past to get to the rest of it. 

The beginning of the garden represents the beginnings of me;

In the beginning, we lived with Grampa, next door to Grampa's humongous ever-bearing strawberry patch. 

Bunnies and Berries; they're the perfect combination, as far as Grampa Harm Tilstra was concerned.

Instead of straw, he used his pellet-y rabbit poo; I don't remember a stink.
Then again, we had an outhouse so my standards of stink were pretty low. 

I dream of then and now, of Big Girl Diana creating a space for Little Girl Diana to always feel safe and loved;

a space with strawberries, sunshine and flowers. And music and art.
Tis monumental for me to have my own art and music, let alone art and music to share.

I've placed one of my garden statues here, so all might know, even in my absence, this is a sacred place. 

Unless you're a bluejay, The King BlueJay of Southtown,
then apparently the love of the berry trumps the sacred representation thereof to nearby human.
Asshole.
Daily, I find half chomped strawberry remains on my stems.

In honor of Grampa's stern Dutch heritage & a desperate need to eat my own ding-dang strawberries,

I brought home a Jay deterring wind chime. 

I think tomorrow, there'll be big red strawberries for all of Diana to enjoy.

Thanks Grampa ♥