Garden 337

A cottage garden in an urban setting

A palmful of strawberry

A palmful of strawberry

Ok.  So when I filled out the “about me” information on Blotanical I said the only fruit I grew came from the old cherry tree in the back yard.  That wasn’t exactly true, though I never dreamed I’d be able to harvest a strawberry.  Notice the singularity of that noun “strawberry.”  By the way, lest your suspense interfere with your ability to construct meaning from the rest of this post, yes, I ate it.  It was sweet and juicy.

Last July I went to Ludema’s.  They had a couple of hanging baskets of strawberries on clearance and I thought they might look nice hanging from one of the dutchman’s pipe supports.  I bought them, hung them and waited.  And I forgot about them until, during a dry spell, I noticed they were wilted and wanting.   I took the baskets down and set them on the ground so they could get watered with everything else that was getting sprinkler therapy.  I never hung them back up.  Any strawberries that even thought about blushing into ripeness were scarfed down by resident rodent raiders.  I suspect rabbits were the culprits, but I wouldn’t rule out a squirrel or two.  Anyway, the baskets stayed on the ground the rest of the summer all winter because, well, I don’t know.  Because I never got around to dumping them before cold weather devoured my gardening motivation.  I picked up one basket in the spring but noticed there were some green shoots coming from the other one, green strawberry plant shoots.  So, I left it where it was.  And the shoots developed into fruit bearing plants!  But even more surprising was the fact that there was a strawberry plant growing from the earth where the other pot sat. Instead of pulling it out like a weed, I decided to let it stay put, drawfed by a lilac.  I was sure the bandit rabbits and/or squirrels would get to the fruit before I did, but it wasn’t hurting anything.  So, the pot and the self planted strawberry soaked up a mild Michigan spring and began bearing fruit.  The first to ripen was the pot, probably because it gets more sun.  And so  I harvested a strawberry!  A ripe juicy red strawberry!

I took my berry bounty into the kitchen and washed it (because my mother always told me to wash fruit and vegetables and this is one of the few commands I actually obey)(go figure), and popped that little treasure into my mouth.  It even tasted like a strawberry!

Am I tempted to now clear a patch for future strawberry indulgences? Nope.  I’m sticking to perennials.  With the hope of a little strawberry on the side.

About Me

I haven’t always been a gardener, but I have always loved gardens. It has taken 16 years to get my gardens into the shape they are today. And, I’ve had help. I’m 74 years old, have rheumatoid arthritis, and had a late stage cancer six years ago. I am, though, intrepid. I’m the kind of person who plods along, tailoring my goals as I go. Last November I had a long overdue knee replacement surgery and I’m hoping this spring, summer, and fall will be able to maintain and find even more joy working in all of my garden beds. Full disclosure, though. I have a garden guy who comes once a week to work in my gardens.


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