Pity my family who has heard ths story so many times but I told it recently tomy mother and she thoughtit needed writing. AND there is a sequel to what my family has heard before.
Waaaaaaay back when we lived in Iowa I took Mary, who was around 10 at the time, with me to pick strawberries at Richard Carson”s Pick-Your-Own. We picked 20 some quarts and Richard told us we could pay for them by picking some for him to sell. Sewe picked about 40 more quarts. He was so amazed with the way Mary stuck it out that when he was cleanig up his plants her brought some over for her to plant. With strawbewrries, you have to pop off the first season’s berries to get opod ones the next season. So we planted, we popped, we moved from Iowa to PA. At that house we planted (same plants or their children), we popped, we moved from Penryn to Leola. We uprroted again, planted , popped…. and were ever going to have a gorgeous crop, It was coming along nicely and I tended them better than anything, I even put black mulch around them. We had to have some work done on our sewer line and when the dump truck came with a load of gravel , out of the whole two acres, he chooses my strawberry patch to dump it on. I was in the house. He could have asked, but no, he commited one of the most airhead acts of all times and loaded my strawberry patch with gravel!
I gave up. I would muse about why , if strawberries are so easy to grow, do I not have any? Finally I gave up that and bought a few plants. They didn’t seem to like their home and we moved again. goodbye, strawberries.
Two years ago we got new neighbors. They were planting up their backyard and shared A strawbewrry plant with us. This year Ihave the nicest strawberry patch ever! it’s about six feet square, yeilding us all we can eat strawberries. They are perfect. Thank you, dear friends. Bless all you readers who have read my strawberry rant/blog. I think that now I have written it, I won’t tell it again. I will just thankfully eat my strawberries!