Strawberry Fields, photo by Harold Davis.

Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to strawberry fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hungabout.
Strawberry fields forever.

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.
It’s getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn’t matter much to me.
Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to strawberry fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hungabout.
Strawberry fields forever.

No one I think is in my tree, I mean it must be high or low.
That is you can’t you know tune in but it’s all right, that is I think it’s not too bad.
Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to strawberry fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hungabout.
Strawberry fields forever.

Always, no sometimes, think it’s me, but you know I know when it’s a dream.
I think I know I mean a ’yes’ but it’s all wrong, that is I think I disagree.
Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to strawberry fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hungabout.
Strawberry fields forever.
Strawberry fields forever.

Julian found this strawberry in our garden–probably among the last of our harvest for a couple of months, but still great to be eating from our garden’s bounty in mid-November.

First I photographed it, then I ate it!