I once read a description of the landscape before New York City was an idea. I don’t remember the source or the author, but have always remembered the description of strawberry fields. The author claimed that Manhattan could have been described as strawberry fields forever. That sounds like paradise to me. Maybe I would move back there if it returned to that state of being.

I have never been able to grow too many strawberries, or blueberries or blackberries. If I can enough jam or jelly to last all year, then I can make pies. And if I bake and freeze enough berry pies to last all year, then I can make juice. And I have never canned enough juice to last my family of five all year, so therefore I can never grow too many strawberries, blueberries or blackberries (or grapes either.)

With that truth in mind, and the many health benefits associated with berries, I have been making an effort to increase production of all of the above. Two summers ago I planted blackberries and muscadines in pots. Mr. Mims put them in the ground in the fall, and they are looking beautiful and bountiful this year. We have not been so successful with raspberries, but I haven’t given up hope yet.

After eight years in Greenville I have learned much about what won’t grow in the part-sun and shade beneath the trees towering over my kitchen garden. The list of edibles  is long. But I have had success with growing blueberries. So this summer I have decided to turn over more space in my kitchen garden to more blueberry bushes.

Although gardening has taught me patience, a much needed lesson in my case, I have to admit that I am still impatient. I am like a cheap date the second time around, impatient to get some juicy satisfaction.