Thursday, October 24, 2013

Our very own strawberries

My family did not farm, we were the academics. Both my parents have degrees, both were out in the workforce. My dad's parents (who lived in the same state as us) both had degrees, my grandfather was a forester (Yale graduate), my grandmother a teacher. We did not farm but we had gardens. I am not sure if we had gardens because my parents and grandparents knew it was better food or just because they enjoyed working with the soil. My grandparents lived in a city, so their garden was much smaller than my parents half acre plot.

As a little girl I remember helping grandpa in his garden. I remember the sweet smell of the composting leaves in his compost pile, I remember the black, black dirt he had. Probably because our home garden was in sand. But most of all I remember the fruit. He had beautiful rows of raspberries, and a 3 tiered raised bed of strawberries. The raspberry patch long outlived the strawberries. But oh how fun that strawberry patch was.

When we first started our farm I had grand ideas of having our own strawberries. I like to have fifty pounds of strawberries in the freezer to get us through the winter and spring. How great would it be if all those berries came from our farm. Well that was a short lived project. The weeding, and care were more than we had time for. It was decided we would rather pay someone to do all that work, for all those strawberries.

As a kid I remember strawberry picking with my mom, I am not sure how much we would get but it was a lot. And that night for dinner she would make strawberry shortcake. It was great.

This year the kids came picking with me- they of course loved it, and probably ate their weight in berries. So we decided to build one of those 3 tiered bed for the kids.

Thinking about the kids coming into the house all red and sticky from eating the strawberries right outside our door makes me smile!

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