Strawberries

Do you see these strawberries? Those are the damned strawberries that I planted for three entire days straight, alone and cold, on the top of a windy hill in County Clare, Ireland back in late March. Not to mention, the care that I had to give to each individual plant to "keep them happy" in the following weeks. I was relegated to planting strawberries on the hill when I injured my wrist the week prior. It was an easy enough task, just very mundane. The first day was met with a steady rain and wind. We had laid down black plastic over the ground to keep the weeds down (seeing as though we couldn't use any herbicide, being an organic farm and all). The downfall of the black plastic is the fact that when it rains, the water just pools up in the uneven spots of the earth. This didn't make for much fun for me, seeing as though I was kneeling on the ground while planting the strawberries, and the water slowly seeped into my work boots, not to mention soaked my knees, and every inch of fabric in my pants and socks from waist to toe. Oh yeah, and don't forget that it was raining, so come time to come in for lunch, I was soaked from head to toe. Robin saw me and said "well, if it isn't...Miss Wet!" I told him that I felt like a drowned cat and went upstairs to change my clothes and probably felt like crying. It was one of the lowest days that I had back in County Clare. The following days weren't all that great, seeing as though I was still stuck on "Strawberry Hill" alone, but at least the weather improved. It had warmed up enough on the second day to wake up the bees that were housed mere feet away from me in the strawberry patch. In the middle of the day, at the height of warmth, they were really buzzing, but didn't bother me much. I also brought a flat board with me, so I could sit on that, instead of the wet plastic filled with little pools of water. There were times where I would take a break, and lay down on the wooden board, and just stare up at the blue sky and the wispy clouds, feeling the sun's warmth my face. I would listen to the sheep and lambs bleating. The sheep were annoying, but those little lambs were too damn cute. I also listened to the wind coming through the trees in the small forest next to me, and hear the screams of what I assumed was a wild pig, which sometimes sounds like a woman screaming. The birds were chirping and the bees were buzzing. It became satisfyingly solitary. I had all the time in the day to sit alone and contemplate for hours on end. What did I think about? My family. What I was doing with my life. What I wanted to change in my life. My friends, and how much they meant to me. Trips to Spain and other places in Europe. What travels I would hope to take in the following year to visit people. Self-inventory, so to speak. I had a few revelations on that hill, and some of them I've carried through on.

I can close my eyes today, and see everything that I saw there on top of that hill and hear the sounds. I often wish that I was back on that farm again. For all of the low times, there was so much satisfaction that I got out of the days that I spent there. It definitely felt like a home to me, complete with family. If I could do it all over again, I definitely would, in a heartbeat. I wish I could be there tomorrow, in fact.

Anyway, back to those strawberries. When the farmer talked about those strawberries, you could see the euros in his eyes! I could have cared less about them. Miserable, miserable strawberries! At least I now know that people were able to enjoy them and reap the benefits of my labor.