It’s strawberry season! I have been calling the Hansen Berry Farm almost every day waiting to find out when we can come and pick strawberries. I’m now on a first name basis with the owners.
I have fond memories of picking from our strawberry patch as a little girl on the farm in Iowa. In fact we even named one of our cats Strawberry, regardless of the fact that she was black and white, because it seemed like she was always hanging around in Mom’s strawberry patch. Of course I didn’t mind, she was good company.
As I reflected on the time I spent in our patch growing up, I began to question if Mom sent me out there to actually pick strawberries, or to give me something to do so I was out of her hair?
The best part about this Strawberry Farm is that you can eat as many as you want while you pick! That’s my kind of work!
Dan won the award for fastest worker.
Yes. I talk to my fruit. I guess it’s a habit that rolled over from talking to all of our animals on the farm. I give Ashley, our black lab, a pep talk about chasing away deer and rabbits. The goats I encourage to keep on eating the weeds and thistles and clearing out the overgrown grove. The chickens and turkeys I keep applauding for growing so big. Well, the ducks and geese are another matter. I talk to them, but mostly I have to firmly remind them that I am the owner of this place, and they needn’t be so territorial with me and keep honking like I’m a stranger!
I’m crazy, I know. But as Kathryn said so nicely, “It’s a fun crazy.”
Back at the Strawberry farm, our buckets were full, and we treated ourselves to a lovely breakfast. I stuffed my face full of red, ripe, sweet berries and could not have been happier. We picked a total of 30 pounds that day, and I plan to go back again.
Happy Strawberry season!