raspberry

When we left on holidays ten days ago, my raspberries were green, hard things that looked like they would never ripen.  But when we got back, perfect berries awaited us.  From three 20-foot rows, I picked about ten cups of fruit, and I'll continue picking every two days for at least two weeks.

This is what happens when you plant raspberry plants in rows just three feet apart.  This is a solid thicket that takes courage to wade through.  I get scratched by the thorny branches, and end up breaking brittle branches.  Back in the spring, the plants looked lost and lonely and very sparse, and there seemed to be too much room between rows.   The lesson:  plant raspberries in rows at least 6 feet apart.  It won't seem to make sense when you are planting the scrawny little canes, but this picture proves where they can go.

Yesterday I went on a garden tour.  I saw three magnificent properties that made me feel like a pretender in the garden.  The lesson I came away with is:  go big or go home.  Make big beds, and use big ornamental grasses and big shrubs and big perennials.  The effect is like being in a jungle hideaway.

As I walked through and observed the meticulous edging, the complete lack of weeds, and the amazing lay-outs and garden designs, I suddenly became super aware of the long way my own garden needs to go before reaching anywhere near that state of perfection.  Even the vegetable gardens were neat, with plenty of open space between the rows, nothing like my tangled veg garden, where I let volunteer pumpkin vines and poppies run riot.

In one immaculate garden, I came upon an out-of-the-way spot with a row of raspberries.  But what sorry things they were!  Dead canes, few leaves, but still bravely putting out a few berries.  At last I had found one area which could use a bit of help.  Here are some tips for revitalizing a tired raspberry patch:

• In late fall, after the leaves have fallen from the canes, cut to the ground any canes that are brown and flakey.  These are the ones that bore fruit this past year, and they will not produce again.
• The green canes:  if they are more than six feet tall, give them a trim.  These canes will produce fruit next year.
• Support:  Install posts every six feet, and string a line at 2 feet and another line at 4 feet.  Tie branches to the lines.
• Pull out as many weeds as possible. 
• Put down a thick layer of well-rotted manure around each plant, and mulch with pine needles or straw.
• In spring, do another check, trimming any branches that seem out of place, and stand back.  In late July, you will be rewarded with a great crop of raspberries!

the challenge of wild strawberries

To me, running a marathon or slaying a dragon is not nearly as big a challenge as this:  picking wild strawberries.  Within a short walk behind my house is a weedy patch of wild strawberries protected by mosquitoes and horseflies just waiting for a fool like me to wander by.  Each berry is smaller than a pea, and grows a mere inch or less from the ground.
After staggering home with half a bucket full, my job isn't done.  Then I need to handle each tiny nugget again as I take off the hull and pack in into a freezer container.

8 wild strawberries fit into this teaspoon.

So why have I spent over an hour in each of the last four days tramping through the weeds, swatting madly, my bent back screaming for relief?  Because the amazing flavour of these berries has precious little to do with those monster berries we can buy any time of the year in the grocery store.  And because I can't stand the thought of them going to waste.  Nothing else seems interested in eating them, except for tiny slugs.
I started wondering why they are here - what ecological niche are they filling?  Why do they produce fruit at all, since they reproduce by producing a new plant at the end of a long runner?
Some things are unknowable.  But in the mean time, I will give these babies a function, a reason to be.