Garden Misadventures Part 1: The Escapee Strawberries

My garden thrives through my mistakes and my (benign) neglect. The front porch, past which I walk EVERY day, has plenty of pots on it, that I forget to water.

I no longer berate myself for these apparent failures.

A few years ago, before lockdown, a cousin moved house and brought me a lovely strawberry pot, the wide pear shaped kind with lots of scooped holes out of which individual strawberry plants can grow, flower and fruit.

 I was teaching full time (see how I am already blaming other circumstances!) and failed to water it enough. Strawberry plants send out runners – even when not stressed by a lack of water – and through a few years of not really paying attention, they have taken root in my gravel drive. They have found a bit of shade at the base of the wall, just enough wriggle roots into the soil beneath, and taken hold.  As if to disprove the parable, these delicious, abundant plants are thriving on stony ground.

2022 has been much warmer, sunnier and drier than usual. The amount of freckles on my shoulders are testament to this, but also the early fruits that appeared and began to ripen in May.  Increasingly, I would see rosy red flashes peeking out from under the jagged leaves.  They eventually caught my attention enough to go out with two large bowls, before the slugs or black birds got them.

My favourite recipe, after ‘straight off the bush’, is what I call Strawberry Whoosh.  Fresh berries, blended, frozen and store until a moment when you crave that taste of liquid sunshine. For me, this is ideally served with rich vanilla ice cream and a shortbread, and the good company of your favourite people, outside in the garden somewhere!

Gardens, and to my mind children, often surprise us when we let them get on without interference. It is still my intent to water and care for these divine beings better, best of all to get them into a space in the ground where they are not at the mercy of my errant watering schedule.