So

I know the strawberry crop will be light this year.  You know the strawberry crop will be light this year.  But apparently the memo never made it out to the yard.  The plants have no idea they’re not supposed to be bearing as they are. (Insert eye roll here.)

Not only was it hot as Hades today but it was also muggy and wet from an afternoon shower.  It didn’t make it any more fun when the resident crow came to perch on top of the utility pole behind my house and cackle at me.  I’m certain it was the same one who I entertained when attempting to repair my front steps.  Did I ever show you how they turned out?  No?  Ah.  I’ll have to do that as they are wondrous. 

Anyway I pointed out to Sir Mocking Crow that birds are supposed to snatch up strawberries.  Peck ‘em to bits so they are inedible.  Not a damn one was touched!  Nor has the wandering skunk hasn’t paid a nocturnal visit.  Not even any slug holes or trails.  Damn them!  A little help would be appreciated but no, no such luck.  I guess they’re saving them all for me.  Oh joy.  (Insert sarcasm here.)

I picked over a quart.  Ate a huge handful that wouldn’t balance on top of the container.  Ignore another bunch by pretending they weren’t ripe enough for today’s harvest.  They’ll be there tomorrow.  Or Friday.  Or whenever next I force myself to deal with them again.

I know, I know.  Stop whining over ultra-fresh fruit at my fingertips.  I might if the damn ice cream truck ever showed up once I was finished slicing them.  (Insert dramatic sigh here.)

It's Begun

The evilness, that is.  Strawberries.  Over the years my yard has been overrun by them.  You may think that is a good thing.  It is.  The first few days.  After that, not so much.  Especially when I'm not particularly enamored with strawberries to begin with.

I picked the first quart today.  I was thrilled!  No, not because I had a quart of strawberries.  Because something deep inside told me that the harvest will be much lighter this year than it has been others!  In fact, the season might be over before I get tired of them.  Yay!  Happy girl!

Have a good weekend, all!

Some People

Strawberry season is winding down in my yard. I must admit that as much as I dislike picking them, mainly because I get all bitten up by very nasty, itch-making invisible bugs, I am going to hate not having ultra fresh, organic fruit in an instant even more.

I shared about twenty quarts this season and have eaten that many and then some, probably double that.  The other day an individual I haven’t shared any with made a special point to comment on how small the berries were that I had given to someone else. Hey, it was over ninety several days last week and these plants have been bearing hard for a month.  Yes, many of the berries now are on the small side.  She repeated the comment three times in different ways, saying how she could tell they were not purchased, due to the size and how much extra effort it would take to prepare them.

Hmm.  No, it won’t. Not for her it won’t because I won’t be offering any to her. Not this season, not ever. I certainly could have tomorrow as I harvested over two quarts this afternoon. Instead, I’m going to enjoy all those little berries on my own.  Does that make me selfish? I don’t think so because I have shared plenty of the previous pickings with many other people. In fact, I think not giving her any qualifies me as kind since I’m not causing her any undue strain by expending the extra effort to clean and slice such teeny, tiny nuisance strawberries.

So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and get back to it. I want berries for dessert tonight as well as breakfast tomorrow.

Uh Oh!

From four berries to two quarts in less than a week.  This is not good.  Berries cleaned, check.  One tub plain, one sugared, check.  Strawberry iced tea made, check.  Recipe for strawberry salsa, check.  Now what to do with tomorrow's...

Uh Oh!

Yesterday, one.  Today, seven.  Yes, I ate a few before I took the pic.  Tomorrow, 492.  Evil, I tell you.  Evil.

The Evilness has Begun

87,002

The number of strawberry plants bursting into bloom in my yard.  Trust me, that is a VERY conservative estimate.  I suspect it’s closer to double that.  The evil little things have taken over.  They are running rampant, growing in the cracks in the sidewalk, fighting with the poppies who thought they’d established supremacy years ago.

The war has been raging for at least eighteen years now.  Ever since I was nice and bought a packet of five bare-roots from a child’s fundraiser and stuck them haphazardly in my flower bed.  Yeah, that’ll teach me to be nice, won’t it?

Some of the buds, like these pictured aren’t open yet.  Others are already beginning to form berries.  I’d say in less than a month I’ll be overrun once again with such a surplus I finally give up as I have in years past.  In my yard, being magical as it is, the growing season never ends entirely.  I was still plucking the occasional berry last August, long after the time the plants should have quit flowering.

I’ll let you know when the surplus is available for the taking.  Come on over and help yourself.  While you’re at it, take a hundred or so plants along home with you too.  Please!  I’m out of space for flowers and I really missed them last summer. 

Hmm, perhaps I’ll dig some up and under the cover of darkness spread the wicked, little invasive buggers all over the state.  Anyone want to help?  We can dress in black and go on strawberry missions.

Confused

I just ate the second dozen mid-summer strawberries, picked fresh, eaten right out in the yard.  This is the hottest, driest summer ever!  They should not be bearing.  But there are lots of green berries so I'll probably be out there again over the weekend.  I almost like strawberries when there are only a few at a time and they are still warm and sweet from the sun.

Happy Weekend!

My yard is confused. It’s making strawberries again. Weren’t the fourteen gallons I consumed in the spring enough? I sure hope this doesn’t mean we’re skipping winter. I’ve had more than enough of summer for now. I need time to recover before dealing with more of this.

Do you know what the perfect meal is? A Nutella/fluff sammich on oat nut toast. That’s been my dinner this week and I’m very happy to be having another one tonight. Better still is I think there’s enough left in the jars to have one last one tomorrow. I like it so much I may have to get more of the same next week when it’s real shopping time again.

Any plans for the holiday weekend? At the moment I doubt I’ll be venturing out. In fact, I may not speak the entire time. Sometimes it works out that way. What ever you do, have fun and be safe!

And So It Begins

Strawberry season in my yard.

I picked the first pint Sunday. I picked a quart Monday. Today, it was half a gallon. It will multiply exponentially from here on out.

Monday and Tuesday, I took the berries to work and offered them to all who wandered by. There were too many for that tonight but fortunately for me, the neighbor poked her head out to say hello as I was picking. Yep, you guessed it. Her family is having strawberries for dessert tonight.

I don’t much like strawberries on any giving day. Sure, a nice plump juicy red berry is yummy as I’m outside picking them. Once I’ve had that however, I’ve pretty much had my fill.

It’s only day three. And I’ve already had more than enough.

Sigh.

Conspiracies

In the past week I’ve literally picked gallons and gallons of strawberries from my tiny little nothing of a yard. Gorgeous berries the size of plums. I figure they’re so pretty because the yard spirits are tending them as a favor since I haven’t yanked out any of the plants even though I have no space left for flowers. I left them out on the kitchen counter over the weekend and ate a few every time I had to go see what Beau was up to. Nummy but I am not much of a strawberry person.

What I was really waiting for was the ice cream truck to come by so I could slice some in to vanilla soft serve. Naturally it didn’t. No, it never does when I want it to. It only shows up when I have no desire for anything offered. I’m beginning to suspect this is intentional. It’s been suggested I go out to Dairy Queen but that would required getting dressed to go out in public and I’m not sure I’m that interested. Yes, I know the ice cream truck stops in the street but as long as I’m within fifteen feet of my front door it doesn’t count as out in public. Besides, the neighbors are all used to my at home attire by now anyway.

I attempted to do some online banking over the weekend. I signed up for it because I was tired of listening to the constant pitches whenever I went to the bank. Well, not only that. I really don’t enjoy going to the bank so it also sounded like a pretty good deal. Only when I tried to move money I got a flashing notice declaring that I’ve reached my Reg D limit and the transaction couldn’t be completed. Fortunately the bank was still open and I could call to ask what that meant. As it turns out the government will only allow banks to accept a set number of electronic transactions per account per month, after which you must show up in person to complete them. Kind of eliminates the whole advantage to online banking, doesn’t it?

I asked but the very patient girl who got stuck with me had no explanation as to why there’s a cap on such things. I’m sure I could do some research into this and find out a lot more about it but I suspect it would be very dull and probably not provide a sensible answer anyway so I don’t think I’ll bother.

Mm

Picked these this morning and had to have a few. Still warm from the sun. I’ve never understood the need some people have to put sugar on fresh fruit. Biting into a red, ripe, succulent berry, flavor bursting on your tongue. Doesn’t get much better than that.

The Things I See

Without even leaving home. Wondering, aren’t you?

I went out in my yard today. That’s it. Less than twenty feet from my back door, no further, but it was still an interesting day to say the least. I was out for two reasons. First, I needed to do the fine weeding. Last time I pulled the major weeds and dead plants. This time I had to get all the little things that cluster at the base of the strawberry plants that are slowly conquering the entire yard. Fine with me. Even though strawberries aren’t my favorite there’s still something about going out, standing there and biting into a succulent, ruby red berry freshly plucked, warm from the sun.

Second, I needed the other half of my summer hair. I already had it cut so in another week or two it will fluff again and I’ll like it. But it’s still winter dark and that just won’t do. Yes, I know, I could go and have it colored so it was the same all year round but I don’t want to. Personally, I don’t mind the gray that’s starting. It’s part of life. But I do mind the rest when it looks flat and drab which means even though I hate summer I still spend some time out in it to get that sun-kissed look. It doesn’t take long and I’m very pale so my skin gets a nice, pink glow to it to go along with the lightened hair, both of which make my eyes seem just a little bluer.

Boring, right? A nothing day, necessary but not something I should be bothering you with. Ah but there was so much more to it than that. It began with a butterfly ménage. Or perhaps they were moths. I really don’t know and it doesn’t matter. They were soft yellow and beautiful as they flitted above my head, circling each other in their dance of foreplay. They’d dart here and there then go back to circling. Spectacular and eventually frenzied. I don’t know exactly how she chose between them but the one not picked dropped out and settled on the iris spike not three inches from my head. I froze and sat with him as he regrouped, wings slowly opening and closing, until he was ready to move on with a sigh. From me, that is. Okay, maybe from him as well.

After a bit more weeding I heard a ruckus by the fence a few feet away. Looking, I discovered a pair of huge bumble bees, fully involved. You know the ones I mean, the big black and yellow ones that hover around, ignoring you if you ignore them. And yes, by fully involved I mean just that, fully involved. Bees having hot gorilla sex. Rambunctious as hell, let me tell you. Amazing, to say the least. Didn’t last long, or it seemed that way to me. Maybe to the bees it was an eternity. All I know is when they were through they were both staggering. He buzzed away and promptly fell off of the leaf he attempted to land on. She took a minute to collect herself, rearranging her tussled wings, only to crash into the fence post when she tried to alight, that’s how erratic her flight was. I wonder if I can work the phrase boiling bumble bee sex into the book I’m working on. I wonder if my editor will let me get away with it if I do. Ah, I suspect the sound I just heard was her groaning half way around the world so perhaps not.

The last bit of entertainment I had was provided by the neighbors two houses away. I heard some shrieking, followed by a door banging and looked over to see a woman in the yard, wrists duct taped behind her back. She was laughing so I merely watched and stayed put. Hey, she saw me too and could easily have asked for assistance had she needed it. She didn’t. I smiled. She smiled. And then she went back inside. Obviously no problem there.

So that was my day. Yep, plenty of excitement around my house. What did you do?