Strawberry fields

Strawberry fields forever, or at least I believed them to be a constant as a child. (sorry, I really couldn't resist quipping the song title)

One of the most prominent summertime memories from my childhood is about fields and fields of strawberries for as far as the eye could see. Okay, I was small and I couldn’t see nearly as far as I can now from a slightly higher vantage point but you get the idea. Strawberries and cows were part of the town where I grew up. There were three dairy farms and an expansive pick your own strawberry farm.

The dairies and the strawberry farm are both gone. The strawberry farm was replaced by houses with big grass yards, but a few acres of farmland survived and now produces a variety of crops as well as a small patch dedicated to strawberries.

As a young girl, I can remember the phone ringing in the middle of the night as the strawberry farmer called for my brothers. I was too small to tell you when the calls came for I have no recollection if they were at midnight or 4 am. I just remember my Mom rousing ‘the boys’ and sending them to the farm to help with the spraying so the berries didn’t freeze from a late frost.

I remember sitting amidst rows of strawberries that seemed to go on forever, a barely visible line of trees in the distance and the knowledge that there were more fields of berries beyond them. My mom and I would pick and pick for what would seem like hours filling large trays with plumps berries and then bringing them home to wash and hull. Other days my brothers would return home from the farm with flats of berries for my mother.

My first job was picking strawberries. I think I was paid 10 cents a quart. I remember one year I persuaded my best friend to pick with me. We would get up early, walk to the farm thinking we were pretty grown up to walk the path through the woods alone and spend the morning picking to earn a dollar and some change. The need for pickers was short lived so this job only lasted a few weeks each summer but it was enough to fill our pockets with money to buy candy bars or penny candy at the store.

I remember going with my parents to the fields in the evening time to pick up my brothers and watching as they good heartedly raced down a row of berries to see who could clean pick the row the fastest or fill a flat the quickest.

I never thought there would be a time when picking strawberries would not be a part of my summer activities. But, it seems to be something relegated to memories now. I revisited the few fields of strawberries that had survived several years ago. The land had changed hands several times since my childhood. I had hoped to rekindle part of the memories and experiences with my daughter. Instead, the outing was a glorious disaster with unpleasant, bitter tasting berries that were far and few between and a child begging to leave. I gave in quickly to her pleas. This was not the place of my childhood memories.

I have noticed in recent years that there are a few pick your own strawberry fields coming into existence but they are a bit of a drive.

I have devised my own solution and last year shared a little of the love for these berries with the daughter. I built my own 10 x 15 foot bed of berries. Already I can see hints of red. Tomorrow, I anticipate harvesting a small handful which I am sure will never make it to the front door. I think I’ll wait for my daughter to get home from school before I go to inspect our berries. I wonder who will find the most berries.