Today, it is overcast after a very heavy rain and thunderstorm during the early a.m.  I decided to use that time to get up some of the weeds that seem to come out easier when the ground is drenched. 

I finally got over to the strawberry bed and it is loaded again. Huge strawberries that are slightly red and hundreds of others that are green and going to be red.  I indulged myself on all the ripe ones right there in the garden.  We use no chemicals here, so one can eat anything right off the vine, stem or whatever. 

Standing there made me remember a letter I wrote to a friend of mine this time last year. I would like to share it all with you all at Nita’s Phancypages.  It is called,

“In our own paradise, small miracles happen here daily!”

For the past 3 nights I have been able to sleep with one of the French doors open in my bedroom.  Two days ago, I decided to open the other one.  I could not undo the top latch and I asked Carl to do it for me. 

He did and at the same time he swung open the 2^nd door onto the patio garden.  For a split second I was stunned by the brilliance of the colors and the expanse of the garden.  Even though it was only the 27^th of May, many plants were in bloom. Roses, Astible, Delphiniums, Coreopsis, and Geraniums, just to name a few.   Cardinals, Indigo Buntings & Gold Finches, among others, were darting from feeder to feeder.  Even some of the butterflies had arrived.  An enchanted moment, enhanced by the continuous sound of the water fountain.    I work in this garden daily, yet that moment took my breath away. 

The emotion was so great and private, that it was almost 48 hours later before I could mention it and share it with Carl.

Yesterday, I started harvesting the strawberries from the bed Kane and I had planted 3 summers ago.  During the first summer, I had taken all the blooms off the plants as they arrived. The second summer we had a bumper crop.  At the end of June; after we had harvested more strawberries than we could eat and give away; I weed whacked all the strawberry plants and threw handfuls of fertilizer in the bed.

To the left is a photo of our first picking of May 2002. The 4 berries in front measure 10 inches across on the ruler.  The 1^st   strawberry on the far left weighed over 4 ounces!  If this keeps up we will be selling them by the yard!

berries.  We will take 2 quarts over to Jeff and Pam when we go over to Eric’s graduation today.

The plants, over the past 3 seasons, have created runners off of the original rows.  It is almost impossible to walk within the bed now.  Once in a while, one or two of them manages to come up inside the rose arbor.  What a decision to yank them out.

Today, I picked 3 more quarts.  We shared one with Linda and told her to pick whatever she needed while we were gone, ate one quart for our lunch with delicious homemade pumpkin raisin nut bread and saved one in the refrigerator for when we come back from Indiana even though there will be tons more ready to pick.      

While Carl and I were enjoying our lunch, I mentioned the incredible satisfaction I receive while picking the strawberries.  A feeling that far surpasses anything I can remember. 

Hunting under the broad leaves of the strawberries, I am truly aware of the minor or major miracles happening here.  Small, sad looking plants at the start, they are now very proud of themselves as they stand erect and only let out a peek of brilliant red here and there.  “Catch me if you can”, they seem to say.

They and I bask in the backside of the rose arbor.  For that is the only time I get to see the other side of the wonderful arbor Carl built last year.   Perhaps the strawberries enjoy the accompanied beauty of the roses as much as I do and they respond with fantastic produce.       

If I remember correctly, the 50 original plants only cost $24.95.  What a bargain!  We have had our return on our investment many times over.  Not only in dollars or strawberries, in a deep, deep satisfaction of witnessing miracles in progress. 

 The peace of the garden prevails when I am in it. The

air is filled with the music of many types of bird songs.  The other day, Carl heard a loud whoosh, whoosh, whooshing sound, only to look up and see an owl with a 4 foot wingspan fly over his head and into the nearby woods.  I had just walked inside and missed this wonderful event.

Yes, this letter could well have been written today!  Except for the owl, the only difference is there is more roses on the arbor plus honey suckle vines, plus more strawberries on the plant and at the end of the arbor, the one lone grape vine is doing its thing and is loaded with grapes all ready.

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