Two years ago this past May farmer Tim Frohning left our Valley and this life (The Valley Loses another Farmer). In attendance at his memorial along with a standing room only crowd were a thousand strawberry plants (outside in the parking lot), one of the farming projects Tim was unable to finish. Guests were encouraged to take a four inch potted plant to celebrate a farmer's life. I chose two, one for my daughter who was unable to attend, and myself.
In a vacant spot in the garden, at end of a short row, I watered in the little start. If you're a gardener, no need to tell you about the strawberry's penchant for self-propagation: one plant becomes a patch by summer's end; come season two, the patch has doubled. As the patch expanded, it became an aggravation to till around and weed. I vowed to contain it in a raised bed, a permanent patch I could easily tend and cover.
This spring, two seasons later, I finally tackled the job. My finished project was a 4' x 4' square made from 2" x 12" stock, the joints tightly lag screwed in place. The four foot square was the perfect size for the four foot wide heavy gauge plastic mesh pieces I knew would be necessary to protect the crop from the berry farmer's nemesis: those thievin' robin redbreasts. After I filled the bed with compost and garden soil, I dismantled the patch. Tim's solitary strawberry had runnered off three dozen or so offspring. I chose twenty of the most vigorous plants and set them in the raised bed, watering in each with a liberal dose of fish fertilizer. I was able find foster homes for most of the remaining sprouts; the rest I tilled under.
The plants bloomed and the fruit set. As soon as the first berries blushed pink, I put the bird barrier in place...just the perfect size to protect the raised bed, the cover easily peeled back to access the crop. From three of four pickings I've treated myself to fresh, sliced berries with my morning's dry cereal and had enough fruit leftover for a homemade strawberry-rhubarb pie.
My little patch, its berries recall the memory of Tim Frohning, that mischievous twinkle in his eye, his quick wit, hearty laugh, and gift for helping others. Perhaps it's only imagination but for some reason these strawberries seem extra sweet to me, maybe because of the work I've put into the patch, but I suspect it's the memories of Tim that enhance their sweetness....
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