Yes, it's that time of year again when all things fresh and fruity, leafy and green, beautiful and bountiful parade before my eyes. One would think there would be comfort found in the bushesl of corn and green beans yet to come, the jams to make, the fruit to freeze...
And there is.
Sort of.
But first I have to fight the fear.
No, it's not a fear of fruit.
Not even of broccoli.
No, I believe my fear comes from some genetic glich, a holdover from my prehistoric past.
You see, every year, about the time the strawberries are due to ripen, I start to worry.
What if I miss them?
What if I don't buy enough?
I've been dogging the produce people at the farmer's market, each week asking the same, "When will you have strawberries? Will you have a large crop?"
I can't begin to express the relief I felt yesterday when on my morning romp through Craigslist I came upon those magic words "pre-picked strawberries are ready now!"
I called immediately, placing an order to be picked up later that morning.
Whew! I hadn't missed it!
I'll take four flats.
No, um, make that five!
I joyously called a friend, offering to pick up a flat for her as well - I like to share the wealth - and went to gather my bounty.
Each flat holds about 8 quarts, I believe, a good deal at $28 a flat for fresh, just-picked, luscious and local berries.
I psyched myself up for a massive strawberry cleaning mission, turned over dog care to the girls, and dug in. I finished the first flat in about 25 minutes, the second in 35.
When my youngest saw me lying on the floor, stretching my aching back between flat number 2 and flat number 3, she asked, "Why did you buy so many strawberries if it's so much work?"
I jokingly replied, "So we don't starve this winter."
At least, I think I was joking.
Her eye-roll indicated a lack of fear on her part, so at least I'm not scaring my young.
With a short break for a piece of cheese and a diet coke, I finally finished the ordeal work in about 3 hours. The girls split the strawberry tops amongs the chickens, the worms and the compost pile; I thought about giving them all to the chickens, but was a little too worried about diarrhea.
Do chickens even get diarrhea?
Before lying down to ease my stressed back muscles, I popped a quick little cake into the oven for a dessert of strawberry shortcake.
Michael, thank god, smooshed, bagged, and froze all the berries for me, ending up with 28 quarts. Lest you think I can rest easy, however, I'm planning on another flat or two for fresh eating, pies and of course, jam.
Oh, and we still have these in our garden:
Sarah picked this delightful dish-full yesterday afternoon.
Stawberries, anyone?
2 comments:
I feel like I could have written this post! I was looking through my winter stores, thinking of the fresh strawberries making their way into my lunches and....
"You see, every year, about the time the strawberries are due to ripen, I start to worry.
What if I miss them?
What if I don't buy enough?
I've been dogging the produce people at the farmer's market, each week asking the same, "When will you have strawberries? Will you have a large crop?"
Yup. I'm going strawberry picking this weekend (first weekend my fav local berry farm is open for it) and I am already fretting over whether I'll get enough. How many flats/pounds? X amount? Well, let's make that X+2... +4....
I guess this just goes to show that that gene pushing us to store the bounty lives strong!
Yeah, I get harvest fatigue similar to what you describe. But I made wonderful strawberry jam yesterday if I say so myself. I reminded my youngest about _Blueberries for Sal_ by Robert McClosky. Sounds like yours needs to read it, too.
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