THE STRAWBERRY DECEMBER 1906 



menrs be religiously observed, you never 

 will be made to repent, at least so far as 

 the strawberry business is concerned. 

 Keep the cultivator and hoe shining with 

 actual service; remember that every run- 

 ner that takes root after the ideal row is 

 made is as much of an intruder as a weed 

 or any other noxious growth; keep the 

 tares out of the patch, especially if the 

 season be wet and favorable to runner- 

 making. We do not favor the use of a 

 horfe weeder among strawberry plants, 

 as the leeth get under the crown and tear 

 out some of the plants. However, the 

 weeder is an invaluable tool in the grow- 

 ing of most farm crops. 



One Farmer and His Strawberries 

 By Edgar L. Vincent 



WHY can't we raise 'em ourselves.^" 

 The peddler man had just been 

 along with his load of nice, lus- 

 cious strawberries. We had invested in 

 a few baskets and were sitting under the 

 porch where the sun did not shine too 

 hot, revelling in the rosy-cheeked fruit. 

 Laddie was gobbling them up, or down, 

 just as you prefer, at a rate that argued 

 great things for the berries and were a 

 sure prophecy that the bottom of the 

 basket would speedily come into sight. 



"My, Laddie! Don't dip clear to the 

 bottom the first thing! I'm afraid we 

 will not have enough for supper!" 



Mother's foresight had the advantage 

 of keeping the upper hands of her love 

 for the berries, a thing Laddie had not 

 yet learned. But we sat there after 

 Mother had taken the remnants back to 

 the kitchen and wisely covered them safe- 

 ly out of sight against the time of the 

 evening meal and returned to help us 

 figure out just why it is that the ordinary, 

 everyday farmer, and our own particular 

 branch of the genus, does not more fre- 

 quently grow his own strawberries. 



The more we talked it over, the strong- 

 er became the determination to try it. 



'I'll get out the manure. Father, and 

 plow the land myself. You needn't do 

 a thing but just boss the job. If you 

 want to order the plants, that'll be all 

 right. You have that for your share of 

 the partnership and I'll do the rest. What 

 do you say?" 



Well, 1 said we would do it. So the 

 next stormy day, when the work outside 

 did not press too hard, I wrote a reliable 

 nursery house not too far from our home 

 for a strawberry catalogue. 



We took one whole evening to look 

 that catalogue through. How we did 

 revel in the bright pictures, and what 

 comfort we did get in reading the care- 

 fully studied descriptions of the plants 

 and their fruitage. Then I wrote again, 

 this time in answer to a kindly ofFer by 

 the firm that sent us the catalogue, tell- 

 ing them what our soil is, and soon a 



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letter came in reply, giving us the names 

 of a number of varieties adapted to our 

 locality and ripening at different times, so 

 that we might have a supply as long as 

 possible. 



That next spring we fitted up a small 

 piece of ground for strawberries. We 

 did not want to begin on too large a scale 

 all at once. The best place to begin in 

 anything is at the bottom. Laddie did 

 as he said he would. He drew out the 

 mantire and plowed the ground. It did 

 not interfere with our regular farm work 

 much. That is the argument usually 

 presented by the everyday farmer: 



"Takes too much time. We need our 

 strength for work that has got to be done." 



But hope sang a pretty song for us all 

 the way through. The plants came in 

 due time and we set them out the best 

 we knew. Nearly all of them lived. 

 We kept the runners down, according to 

 the directions of the strawberry journal for 

 which we subscribed. I think we were 

 all a little bit glad, though, when one plant 

 stole a march on us and pushed two or 

 three big berries on to perfection. Tucked 

 away under the leaves they climbed up to 

 maturity. I have sometimes wondered if 

 Laddie did not know all about those ber- 

 ries. How in the world could they have 

 escaped the boy's sharp eyes.' At any 

 rate, it was a great day when he brought 

 the first one in. We divided it and each 

 had a taste that evening for supper. It 

 was the best berry we ever ate, and no 

 mistake. 



We had no difficulty in keeping the 



Page 247 



weeds down that next season. No one 

 ever will who loves strawberries and en- 

 joys seeing them grow. And what a 

 time it was when we picked the first 

 mess, enough for a good big dish for each 

 of us! No berries we ever bought half 

 came up to those we had grown ourselves. 

 I wonder if it is not always so.'' The 

 thing that gives us the most of happiness 

 is the thing we do ourselves. 



Two or three things we have learned 

 about strawberries since we began. 



We have had better success setting the 

 plants out in the spring than in the fall. 



Weeds and berries do not go well to- 

 gether. 



Plenty of water is the price of plenty 

 of berries. 



Most farmers make the mistake of 

 crowding the ground too closely. The 

 plants ought to be at least three feet apart 

 one way and two the other. 



Finally, the best berries are the ones 

 we send down the road to the neighbor 

 who has none. They taste the best; they 

 bring the most of pleasure. But there is 

 a joy in those we have on our own table 

 and which we eat down in the field be- 

 tween times that comes from the growing 

 of no other crop I know of. 



Binghamton, N. Y. 



^ He 



Mistress: "Did the fisherman who 

 stopped here this morning have frogs' 

 legs,^" 



Nora: "Sure, mum, I dinnaw. He 

 wore pants." — Cornell Widow. 



