Sweet!

If we didn't grow anything else on the farm but strawberries, it would be worth the mortgage.

The first ripe berry of the season is guarded and monitered - and savored as a king's treasure. As the punks hover, that berry is carefully divided so that everyone gets a small sweet drop of promises to come. It's our reward for patience.

The main crop is usually tucked away in the freezer as jam or whole berries, to bring us summer memories as the snow flies.

But it's the last berries of the season that can touch your soul with their incredible flavor and sweetness. They have soaked up warmer sun than the first berries, they have had longer to convert the sugars to ambrosia, and they package it in glowing ruby morsals often no bigger than your little fingernail.

And we pick every one of those tiny jewels.

In fact, that's what the variety is called, that Carrie is picking: Jewel.

Well named.