We are probably not the best suited for strawberry picking. We are a tall and gangly bunch.
But you’ll always find us out in the fields in June, stooping, crouching, folding in our limbs—getting down on their level. Good Oregon strawberries are smallish, deep red, sloppy and juicy, often hidden beneath their canopy of leaves. It’s achy work.
Truth be told, strawberries are not the favored berry in our household. Oh, we’ll happily cook them down into jam, freeze them for tomorrow’s smoothies and snack on them by the handful, but it’s the bush and vine-growers that we are anxiously awaiting (and not just for the ease of picking).
We love strawberries because they are our harbinger of summer. They always ripen just before the solstice when the days have gotten impossibly long, and our lives are loosening up and becoming less structured. Just you wait, they say, there’s so much more to come.
