Strawberry Fields of Milton

Located in the heart of Milton, Florida, where the breeze carried the scent of sun-ripened strawberries, there lived a woman named PJ. Her laughter rang through the strawberry fields like the joyful hum of bees. Every spring, the dew-kissed leaves welcomed her, their emerald hues gleaming beneath the rising sun. But it was the strawberries — plump, crimson, and sweet — that captured her heart most of all. PJ’s fondness for strawberries had blossomed in her childhood. Her grandmother, a spirited soul with hands stained red from years of picking, taught her that each berry held a story. “The earth sings through them,” her grandmother would say, “and every bite is a song of sunshine and rain”.

But the most curious thing about PJ was her sunglasses. They were no ordinary shades; their lenses gleamed with the vibrant hue of strawberries. A gift from an Artist who once painted the fields, the glasses cast the world in rosy splendor. “See the world as you see your strawberries,” the artist used to say. 

Through those strawberry-tinted lenses, even the sky above Milton seemed sweeter. The clouds swirled like dollops of cream, and the fields below danced in ruby waves. People marveled at her view of the world, but PJ knew the truth. The joy was not merely in what the lenses showed, but in what she had always known — the beauty of the earth, the tenderness of the fields, and the delight of something as simple as a strawberry.

Each spring visit to the Strawberry Field, PJ and the Artist would close their eyes for a moment, savor the flavor and scent of the Strawberries, give thanks to God and the sky above.

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For in Milton, Florida, love grew like strawberries — wild, sweet, and everlasting.