THE STRAWBERRY JULY 1906 



days the hens found them out. Then 

 Dixon put a nice "New-laid eggs for sale 

 here" notice in his v\indow, and a beau- 



tiful basket of eggs beside it. Within 

 two hours of Jones' reading the notice 

 the fence was repaired. 



How I Encouraged Home Strawberry Culture 



By DeWitt C. Wing 



IT is a reflection on the intelligence and 

 enterprise of the American people to 

 classify strawberries as a luxury. 

 Nothing is a luxury which easily can be 

 grown in almost every township in the 

 United States. Strawberries should be a 

 sure and regular crop on every farm. 

 Every villager with a bit of soil ought to 

 grow a patch, and there are many city 

 dwellers who could derive health, recre- 

 ation and gastronomic enjoyment from 

 small plots devoted to this luscious, 

 cheer-giving fruit. 



I love strawberries in the sense that I 

 love poetry; and I love them as an article 

 of food. A well-grown specimen of this 

 fruit, matured under favorable conditions, 

 appeals to the esthetic sense as well as to 

 the palate. It is invested with poetry, 

 art and an ambrosial tonic which pro- 

 motes health. 



A shapely, finely-colored strawberry of 

 big-mouth size is a beautiful object to 

 behold. To produce this kind in abun- 

 dance is an exceedingly agreeable task to 

 one who looks beyond pecuniary consid- 

 erations in working with animals and 

 plants. An ill-shaped, sickly strawberry', 

 lacking color and constitution, is one of 

 the most depressing forms upon which a 

 fruit grower may look. It is inexcusable 

 to grow many of this sort, yet this is the 

 kind which makes up the bulk of the crop 

 grown on farms for home use. 



City people get strawberries; country 

 folk eat the culls. This situation so im- 

 pressed me early in my career as a farmer 

 that I resolved to reverse it so far as our 

 family was concerned. We usually had 

 a mess or two of berries each season, 

 but they were tasteless, apologetic masses 

 of pulp and so insignificant in comparison 

 with some which I had seen at the fruit 

 stores in a small city that I became se- 

 cretly disgusted with the whole berry 

 family. Our "luck" with the fruit was 

 better than our methods of growing it, 

 however, so I decided to make another 

 effort, following the advice of a practical 

 grower who had described his methods in 

 a horticultural journal. 



Get the soil right: that was the first 

 step advised by my long-distance mentor. 

 Our garden was a deep, sandy loam with 

 great power to absorb water and heat. It 

 was an ideal home for the strawberry, 

 according to the books — and the books 

 were right. I wrote to the professor of 

 horticulture at our state experiment station 

 and asked him what varieties he thought 

 would do well in my locality. He recom- 

 mended Bubach, Haverland, Crescent, 

 Sharpless and Warfield, and some others 



which I do not now recall. I remember 

 the Bubach above all others: it was my 

 favorite both as a grower and producer. 

 About one-fifth of an acre was set to 

 plants in the spring. The ground had 

 been plowed to a depth of nine inches 

 the preceding November. During the 

 winter the thin mantle of subsoil weath- 

 ered as intended and before plowing the 

 plot again early in the spring a dressing 

 of well-rotted stable manure v\as applied. 

 The effect of this fertilizer was not pro- 

 nounced until the following year. When 

 I was applying that odoriferous material 

 I could at the same time imaginatively 

 smell delicious strawberries. Three har- 

 rowings put the soil in fine tilth for the 

 plants, which were set about three feet 

 apart each way. 



None of our neighbors grew straw- 

 berries; farmers as a rule regard nearly 

 everything as a luxury which requires a 

 little more attention than hogs, corn, 



FIELD OF J. R.MORRISON, BURNT PRAIRIE, ILL. 



wheat and cotton. They live on pork, 

 cornbread, molasses, potatoes and coffee 

 when all the healthful delicacies of the 

 land are within their easy reach. It is 

 beyond comprehension that so many of us 

 restrict our diet to the prosaic staples 

 named. A farmer's table should be liter- 

 ally burdened with fruits of his own grow- 

 ing, and I would always see to it that the 

 strawberry had proper representation. 

 Now when my plants had begun to take 

 hold of the fat soil and give evidence that 

 they had started toward the fulfilment of 

 their mission, the berry bed and its owner 

 were roundly ridiculed by the neighbors 

 who frequently called (perhaps for this- 

 very purpose.) Of course they predicted 

 a failure, but fearing I might actually grow 

 some berries they sometimes added that 



Page 150 



"no farmer can afford to monkey' with 

 such things anyway." 



One of the most difficult obstacles to 

 overcome in doing something worth while 

 on the farm is the stupid opposition and 

 advice of one's neighbors. But they are 

 helpful nuisances, and we could not be 

 happy without them. I had worked out 

 a plan whereby every one of ours should 

 be converted to the practice of growing 

 strawberries. 



It were a waste of space to go into the 

 details of my work following the setting 

 of the plants; I had no patent methods 

 and took no short cuts. The entire pro- 

 cess was exceedingly ordinary and simple. 

 This is why I would emphasize that the 

 strawberry is not a luxury. My plants 

 fruited generously. The Bubachs were 

 immense and beautiful; the Warfields 

 were a close second. The other sorts 

 gave creditable account of themselves, and 

 I was justly proud of my achievement. 



Being a "crank," I must play the part. 

 I secured twenty strawberry boxes, quart 

 size, and filled them with select berries. 

 I then wrote twenty notes, personal to 

 e:ich of as many neighbors, and placed 

 them in addressed envelopes bearing the 

 printed name of the grower and his farm 

 and slipped an envelope in each box. A 

 boy in a runabout was then commissioned 

 to distribute the boxes. It took him a day 

 to make the trip and present twenty of my 

 neighbors with this educational fruit. In 

 the notes I used this language: 



"Please accept this box of strawberries wtih 

 the compliments of the grower. It was fun to 

 raise them and it is a pleasure to give them away. 

 I hope you will grow a patch next year. I'm 

 ashamed to think that I never grew any before. 

 Are we farmers making the most of our oppor- 

 tunities? Let's grow some of the good things 

 and learn how to live. Try strawberries any- 

 way. Pardon my audacity and forgive me for 

 tantalizing you with such a meager quantity of 

 berries. I wish I could send you a bushel." 



Some of the recipients of these gift boxes 

 declared me crazy and for that reason did 

 not acknowledge the donations, but others 

 were more charitable. My plan was a 

 success; within three years I believe every 

 farmer in the neighborhood had a patch 

 of strawberries. Each farmer, therefore, 

 became a wiser and better man. We had 

 an abundance of strawberries every year 

 thereafter, and inevitably began to grow 

 many other varieties of fruit. One step 

 compels another. 



The strawberry is a civilizer. It refines 

 and cultivates. It brightens the home. 

 It helps to grow strong children with 

 sunny dispositions. It develops a love 

 for nature. It is fruit for the gods. 



Chicago, 111. 



AS ye spray, so will fruit be given unto 

 you abundantly, says Farm, Stock and 

 Home. Strawberry growers may well 

 accept this wise suggestion as particularly 

 addressed to them. Followed consist- 

 ently, it may insure them large success. 



