My friend and I sit in rocking chairs on the side porch, talking and rocking. Our kids, one by one, then in groups of two or three, take turns coming out. "When are we going to the pool?" they ask. "Soon," we say. Then my friend says, "I love the hot pink crepe myrtles. They look like crunch berries. They always make me hungry," and she laughs. I look around at all the crunch berries, in my yard, on my street. I try to process the vision, but the kids keep coming out. My friend and I finally concede and pack up for the pool. But now, everywhere I go, I see crunch berries. Crunch berries, so vivid and beautiful enough to eat.