There's good things happening over here. Like twelve pounds of rhubarb. And this morning, the first three ruby-red strawberries of the season. All three just perfect specimens of strawberry-ness, in all ways: color, shape, smell, taste. My little boy agreed--he was almost indignant when I said that they were finished. His favorite word hurtled out of his mouth: "more!" There will be more, we just have to wait, I told him. But that's no good to a toddler. And I don't blame him a bit.