Everywhere I go I find a pal
Peter Weinschenk, Editor, The Record-Review
I got my introduction to strawberry gardening on Saturday. It was a baptism by mud. Undeterred by driving rain, I managed to plant 70 dormant, bare root Cavendish strawberry plants in a backyard plot. This spot is where I dug up a couple rows of raspberries last fall. The raspberries were sickly and weak after a quarter century of production.
Planting the strawberries was a challenging task. By the end of the afternoon, I was chilled and covered with a thick film of greasy mud. But I got the job done.
The strawberries showed up in a brown cardboard box last week on my doorstep. Inside, there were four bags of strawberry plants. The plants had long, tan-colored roots that measured up to six inches long.
As I got to plant them, I trimmed the roots to five inches with a rusty clipper (which I happily located this spring poking through a section of lawn where I left them last fall). I pinched off any leaves on the bare root plant. I tossed the plants in a five-gallon bucket of water to wake them up a little.
I next started to plant the strawberries in a double row 22 inches apart with the plant’s crown showing. I was pretty disciplined about planting the strawberries at equal intervals. I had two measuring tapes going at one time. I used a trowel to scoop out some dirt for the plants, spread out their roots and tamped soil back around the plants. I used an old garden stake (“zucchini”) to mark where the next row of strawberries needed to start. I worked my way down the row 22 inches at a time. I did a lot of math in my head.
This gardening was fairly enjoyable for most of the afternoon, but things changed after a misty rain transitioned into a steady shower. Suddenly, my travels between the strawberry rows got difficult. Things became excessively muddy. I squished into the mud over and over again. My boots became big clods of oozing brown. The mud got on everything…the tape measures, my gloves, my clothes, my face.
I considered giving up, but, stubbornly, I persisted.
By early evening, I planted the last plant in the last row. That was welcome. I had become annoyed with the cold, the rain and the mud. I stood back on the lawn and reviewed my work. I was pleased. I had taken my first major step into the world of strawberries.
The results are pretty nice. My strawberry rows are hilled and drain well. The plants are greening up. I can imagine runners spreading across the rows in a lush patchwork of green. There won’t be strawberries this year, but, hopefully, there will be plenty two years from now.
This year’s strawberry work isn’t done. I’ll have to pinch off this year’s runners to boost the root mass. I’ll have to weed. Later this fall, I will spread straw to protect the plants from sub-zero temperatures.
All the things I will do for a strawberry smoothie!
