So, there has been a theft.
Two fat strawberries were ripening. One for me and one for Vince. Last night they looked about perfect, but because he was working late I decided to leave them till this morning. And this morning we scurried into SoHo to have brunch at Balthazar with good friends from his previous life on Little Cayman, so, no strawberry.
Just got home. Stepped onto the warm terrace.
One red strawberry.
The other, missing. The stem neatly nipped, snipped. Quite hard to get to. Facing the apartment, not on the outside, with easy gutter access for varmints.
Raccoon? Surely el bandido would have knocked something over in the act of. Thin squirrel, squeezing between pots? And it's not like it took bites, either. The whole thing is gone.
The cat is clearly not earning his keep.
On the other hand, the plants are the healthiest on the terrace.
Promising to make more berries, sending out runners to colonize nearby pots.
So I ate the other one (below), immediately, just in case.
It was warm and sweet.