Sarah Strawberry

When I was four, my mom nicknamed me "Sarah Strawberry". It may have been my strawberry blond hair but more likely it was my love of strawberries that won me this name.

We ate the last jar of homemade jam at the end of May and I have been counting the days, jealous of my pals in America and their mouth watering photos of strawberries that come to them much earlier than we have them!

We were going to go picking last weekend but figured that they probably wouldn't let us on account of Hurricane Arthur knocking on their door. I held off buying a single grocery store berry, holding out. Finally picking day arrived. We woke up at 7 and hit the road before it got too hot.

We drove for a little over an hour, my son getting more and more excited. We have been taking him to U-picks since he could walk and have trained him as a rather skilled picker. We took most of our own baskets and wooden holders having learnt in the past that they can cost quite a bit. We walked to our assigned rows and began picking, dutifully picking not just the perfect strawberries, but all of the ripe ones. After all, the small ones are perfect for jam! As we reached out first twenty quarts, we began to tire as sweat beaded on our foreheads. Still, my son excitedly kept a running tally of boxes and would call out  "only 22 left "when he wasn't saying "eww gross, I just put my finger through a rotten one!"

As I leaned, sweating, over the beautiful, glistening fruit, I tasted the season's first berry. It was warm from the sun and so sweet and delicious. I ate three more. I heard other pickers talking and kids saying "you mean they let you eat as many as you want?!" Yes, they really do! I feel as amazed as that young child. I heard a woman talking to her picking partner say "I remember old dad would take us kids to the fields and shout out who can find the biggest one?" Clearly she held fond memories. Kids never tire of saying "look at this one!" but as parents we are all just glad the kids are having fun.

There were a few young couples with toddlers and babies, trading off kid duty and picking but making a haul and still smiling. No screaming babies, which seemed odd until you realize they were probably old enough to stuff with the sweet strawberry bribes.

















Strawberry picking is more than just cheap fruit that we will freeze, jam, gift and eat from now until next spring, it is a tradition and one that involves enthusiasm, joy and happiness for my family. Very few times does my child finish a long task as enthusiastically as he starts, especially in the hot sun with many more quarts to go. Luckily when we were all done and our bellies stuffed with sweet, juicy berries we found a nearby beach on the Bay of Fundy to cool off. We spent an hour looking for gems and unusual rocks and then watched the tide come in amazingly fast and almost swallow our car. We then bought ice cream cones and headed for home. For me, a perfect way to spend a Sunday.

Scott's Bay on beautiful Bay of Fundy

It was dry to the bridge when we arrived, darn tides almost got our little car in the front of the line, half hour later

I made 16 jars of jam, a huge batch of daiquiri mix for the freezer and 10 bags of frozen strawberries for winter crisps, smoothies and pancakes. We also ate several baskets and I made a strawberry shortcake for a barbecue dinner. The chickens gleefully ate the tops and less bruised strawberries and all was well with the world.