74 Quarts and Counting

It has been four weeks since I picked my first, juicy red strawberry of the season. As I write now, this year's glorious, whirlwind season has almost ended. Two nights ago, I struggled to pick a little over two quarts of smallish, but still tasty berries. Rain and an unusual 90-degree June heatwave have caused the berries to ripen and soften in quick succession, but we have still enjoyed every last one.

This strawberry season has been nothing short of miraculous. I planted 50 Earliglow plants in 2006, and as I mentioned before, could not bring myself to pinch off runners and pull up baby plants. One bed is a dense mat of plants, while the other still has plenty of stepping room. Two 8x8-foot beds, 128 square feet. Is that a lot? My neighbors told me they put in 150 plants this year. If their strawberries produce anywhere near as much as mine, they better plan on going into the roadside stand business. As of today, I have picked 74 quarts of strawberries!

By May 22nd, I realized I had a bumper crop on my hands, and began writing down all I had gathered up to that point. I began measuring my take in gallons, rather than quarts. I called my mother for something and left a message, "By the way, I picked 3 gallons of strawberries today." While I think she believed me, she was not suitably impressed until they came to visit on Memorial Day weekend. That night, the kids, my parents and I picked 5 gallons. My husband had purchased a 5.5 gallon galvanized tub the night before for icing down beverages and joked, "Maybe you'll fill this with strawberries." We did...the very next day. My parents exclaimed over the size of the berries and the cache they would find each time they lifted some leaves. "You certainly do have a green thumb," my Dad said to me. There is no higher praise to me.

As the weeks have passed, I find myself more and more alone in my picking duties. Both kids dutifully helped me for the first couple of weeks, but then I had to threaten them with no more eating to get some help. I was tired too. My hands remain stained a dark purple despite scrubbing with lemon juice and some heavy-duty hand cleaner. I've put up 32 half-pints of jam, frozen 12 quart-plus bags and even put several quarts on the dehydrator as I despaired of finding more freezer room. I have probably given away 20 or more quarts, and at least 5 jars of jam. When people gushed over my generosity I said, "Please, you're doing me a favor." I've been so busy, I've only made two strawberry pies. That, my friends, is a real tragedy.

My mother put in her own raised beds a couple of years ago, but felt her crop was a disappointment this year, at least compared to mine. "We'll have to try doing what Jenifer did," Dad said as he bent over my patch, continuing to tirelessly pick a couple of weeks ago. I think he overstepped a little bit there, but Mom kept her temper. "We did! I'll have to try adding more compost," she said. I suspect a generous application of compost had something to do with it, but I also think that surplus crops are a gift from God. I couldn't hazard a guess of how many people have eaten my berries this year. While I enjoy telling people "this is what a real strawberry tastes like," the real blessing comes from being able to share a delicious, healthy treat with my friends and neighbors. Several people have suggested I sell my berries, and I suppose I could have made over $250 this year at the going price of $4 a quart. I hesitate to compete with my Amish neighbors though, and it just seems like a lot of trouble to sell them. I'll stick to hulling strawberries every night until midnight, and racking my brain for just who might want to take another quart off my hands.

© 2008 Jenifer Dolde