Sense of Wonders: A Strawberry Story

I have threatened that when I grow up I am going to run a strawberry farm. This is not an idle threat. Having been to several u-pick farms, I have concluded that they are just about the most wonderful places on the planet. If I could own and operate one of those, I think it would be lots of fun (and hard work probably).

One of the many appeals of such a career for me is getting to spend time in the great outdoors caring for living things. Another is the (literal) fruits of one's labor.

But it's not always about fruit at a strawberry farm. A strawberry farmer has the freedom to dabble in other wares. These carrots and onions and greens look good enough to me to have come straight from Mr. McGregor's garden.

I have vegetarian friends who would simply swoon if they were to see a pile of veggies like these.

But back to the strawberries...

I think there is something inborn deep inside of us that makes us want to pick strawberries ourselves rather than just walking out of a store with berries picked by someone else's (luck) hands. And I think it is because they are beautiful like this one. Picking them doesn't require much strength or intelligence. You merely bend down, make your choice and pluck.

There is, I suppose, some discretion involved. But it's not too difficult a task to tell the difference between a ripe and not-so-ripe strawberry.

It is, however, difficult to stop taking photos of the beautiful berries long enough to fill a bucket with them. Maybe cameras should be discouraged on u-pick grounds. This berry appears to be oozing deliciousness.

I managed to tear myself away from behind the camera enough to begin to fill a bucket. After a few minutes, that looks like this.

Then - oops - it looks like this. Because that particular one was just too tempting to drop into the bucket after having it in my hot little hands.

Eventually (depending on how many times you stop picking to take photos), the bucket looks like this. The dreams of smoothies and desserts of the strawberry persuasion grows in direct proportion to the weight of strawberries in your bucket.

Then, you get home (maybe you eat a cone of strawberry ice cream first), and the strawberries look so wonderful in your sink that you have to do something with them right away. Waiting is just not acceptable.

And then, hey presto, you have something resembling this!