Success With Small Fruits
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E. P. Roe >> Success With Small Fruits
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When the ground begins to freeze, protect the plants for the winter by
covering the rows lightly with straw, leaves, or--better than all--
with light, strawy horse-manure, that has been piled up to heat and
turned over once or twice, so that in its violent fermentation all
grass seeds have been killed. Do not cover so heavily as to smother
the plants, nor so lightly that the wind and rains will dissipate the
mulch. Your aim is not to keep the plants from freezing, but from
freezing and thawing with every alternation of our variable winters
and springs. On ordinarily dry land two or three inches of light
material is sufficient. Moreover, the thawing out of the fruit beds or
crown, under the direct rays of the sun, injures them, I think. Most
of the damage is done in February and March. The good gardener watches
his plants, adds to the covering where it has been washed away or is
insufficient, and drains off puddles, which are soon fatal to all the
plants beneath them. Wet ground, moreover, heaves ten times as badly
as that which is dry. If one neglects to do these things, he may find
half of the plants thrown out of the ground, after a day or two of
alternate freezing and thawing. Good drainage alone, with three or
four inches of covering of light material, can prevent this, although
some varieties, like the Golden Defiance, seem to resist the heaving
action of frost remarkably. Never cover with hot, heavy manure, nor
too deeply with leaves, as the rains beat these down too flatly. Let
the winter mulch not only coyer the row, but reach a foot on either
side.
Just before very cold weather begins--from the middle of November to
December 1st, in our latitude--we may, if we choose, cover our beds so
deeply with leaves, or litter of some kind, as to keep out the frost
completely. We thus may be able to dig plants on mild winter days and
early spring, in case we have orders from the far South. This heavy
covering should be lightened sufficiently early in the spring to
prevent smothering. Plants well protected have a fine green appearance
early in spring, and, even if no better, will give much better
satisfaction than those whose leaves are sere and black from frost.
As the weather begins to grow warm in March, push aside the covering a
little from the crown of the plants, so as to let in air. If early
fruit is desired, the mulch can be raked aside and the ground worked
between the rows, as soon as danger of severe frost is over. If late
fruit is wanted, let in air to the crown of the plants, but leave the
mulch on the ground, which is thus shielded from the sun, warm
showers, and the south wind, for two or three weeks.
I have now reached a point at which I differ from most horticultural
writers. As a rule, it is advised that there be no spring cultivation
of bearing plants. It has been said that merely pushing the winter
mulch aside sufficiently to let the new growth come through is all
that is needed. I admit that the results are often satisfactory under
this method, especially if there has been deep, thorough culture in
the fall, and if the mulch between and around the plants is very
abundant. At the same time, I have so often seen unsatisfactory
results that I take a decided stand in favor of spring cultivation if
done properly and _sufficiently early_. I think my reasons will
commend themselves to practical men. Even where the soil has been left
mellow by fall cultivation, the beating rains and the weight of
melting snows pack the earth. All loamy land settles and tends to grow
hard after the frost leaves it. While the mulch checks this tendency,
it cannot wholly prevent it. As a matter of fact, the spaces between
the rows are seldom thoroughly loosened late in the fall. The mulch
too often is scattered over a comparatively hard surface, which, by
the following June has become so solid as to suffer disastrously from
drought in the blossoming and bearing season. I have seen well-mulched
fields with their plants faltering and wilting, unable to mature the
crop because the ground had become so hard that an ordinary shower
could make but little impression. Moreover, even if kept moist by the
mulch, land long shielded from sun and air tends to become sour,
heavy, and devoid of that life which gives vitality and vigor to the
plant. The winter mulch need not be laboriously raked from the garden-
bed or field, and then carted back again. Begin on one side of a
plantation and rake toward the other, until three or four rows and the
spaces between them are bare; then fork the spaces, or run the
cultivator--often the subsoil plow--deeply through them, and then
immediately, before the moist, newly made surface dries, rake the
winter mulch back into its place as a summer mulch. Then take another
strip and treat it in like manner, until the generous impulse of
spring air and sunshine has been given to the soil of the entire
plantation.
This spring cultivation should be done early--as soon as possible
after the ground is dry enough to work. The roots of a plant or tree
should never be seriously disturbed in the blossoming or bearing
period; and yet I would rather stir the _surface_, even when my beds
were in full bloom, than leave it hard, baked, and dry; for, heed
this truth well--unless a plant, from the time it blossoms until the
fruit matures, has an abundance of moisture, it will fail in almost
the exact proportion that moisture fails. A liberal summer mulch under
and around the plants not only keeps the fruit clean, but renders a
watering much more lasting, by shielding the soil from the sun. Never
sprinkle the plants a little in dry weather. If you water at all,
_soak_ the ground and _keep it moist all the time_ till the crop
matures. Insufficient watering will injure and perhaps destroy the
best of beds. But this subject and that of irrigation will be treated
in a later chapter.
When prize berries are sought, enormous fruit can be obtained by the
use of liquid manure, but it should be applied with skill and
judgment, or else its very strength may dwarf the plants. In this
case, also, all the little green berries, save the three or four
lowest ones, may be picked from the fruit truss, and the force of the
plant will be expended in maturing a few mammoth specimens. Never seek
to stimulate with plaster or lime, directly. Other plants' meat is the
strawberry's poison in respect to the immediate action of these two
agents. Horse manure composted with muck, vegetable mould, wood-ashes,
bone meal, and, best of all, the product of the cow-stable, if
thoroughly decayed and incorporated with the soil, will probably give
the largest strawberries that can be grown, if steady moisture, but
not wetness, is maintained.
Many advise the mowing off of the old foliage after the fruit has been
gathered. I doubt the wisdom of this practice. The crowns of the
plants and the surface of the bed are laid open to the midsummer sun.
The foliage is needed to sustain or develop the roots. In the case of
a few petted and valuable plants, it might be well to take off some of
the old dying leaves, but it seems reasonable to think that the
wholesale destruction of healthful foliage must be a severe blow to
the vitality of the plants. Still, the beds should not be left to
weeds and drought. Neglect would be ungracious, indeed, just after
receiving such delicious gifts. I would advise that the coarsest of
the mulch be raked off and stored for winter covering, and then the
remainder forked very lightly or cultivated into the soil, as a
fertilizer immediately after a soaking rain, but not when the ground
is dry. Do not disturb the roots of a plant during a dry period. Many
advise a liberal manuring after the fruit is gathered. This is the
English method, and is all right in their humid climate, but dangerous
in our land of hot suns and long droughts. Dark-colored fertilizers
absorb and intensify the heat. A sprinkling of bone dust can be used
to advantage as a summer stimulant, and stronger manures, containing a
larger per cent of nitrogen, can be applied just before the late fall
rains. A plant just after bearing needs rest.
After fruiting, the foliage of some of our best kinds turns red and
seemingly burns and shrivels away. This is not necessarily a disease,
but merely the decay of old leaves which have fulfilled their mission.
From the crown a new and vigorous growth will eventually take their
place. When one is engaged in the nursery business, the young plants
form a crop far more valuable than the fruit. Therefore, every effort
is made to increase the number of runners rather than to destroy them.
Stimulating manures, which promote a growth of vines rather than of
fruit, are the most useful. The process of rooting is often greatly
hastened by layering; that is, by pressing the incipient plant forming
on the runner into the soil, and by laying on it a pebble or lump of
earth to keep it in its place. When a bed is closely covered with
young plants that have not taken root, a top-dressing of fine compost
will greatly hasten their development. Moisture is even more essential
to the nurseryman than to the fruit grower, and he needs it especially
during the hot months of July, August, and September, for it is then
that the new crop of plants is growing. Therefore, his need of damp
but well-drained ground; and if the means of irrigation are within his
reach, he may accomplish wonders, and can take two or three crops of
plants from the same area in one season.
While the growing of strawberry plants may be very profitable, it must
be expensive, since large areas must be laboriously weeded by hand
several times in the season. Instead of keeping the spaces between the
rows clear, for the use of horse-power, it is our aim to have them
covered as soon as possible with runners and young plants. The Golden
Defiance, Crescent Seedling and a few others will keep pace with most
weeds, and even master them; but nearly all varieties require much
help in the unequal fight, or our beds become melancholy examples of
the survival of the unfittest.
CHAPTER XVI
A SOUTHERN STRAWBERRY FARM, AND METHODS OF CULTURE IN THE SOUTH
Having treated of the planting of strawberries, their cultivation, and
kindred topics, in that great northern belt, of which a line drawn
through New York city may be regarded as the centre, I shall now
suggest characteristics in the culture of this fruit in southern
latitudes. We need not refer to the oldest inhabitant, since the
middle-aged remember when even the large cities of the North were
supplied from the fields in the suburbs, and the strawberry season in
town was identical with that of the surrounding country. But a
marvellous change has taken place, and berries from southern climes
appear in our markets soon after midwinter. This early supply is
becoming one of the chief industries of the South Atlantic coast, and
every year increases its magnitude. At one time, southern New Jersey
furnished the first berries, but Maryland, Delaware, and Virginia soon
began to compete. Norfolk early took the lead in this trade, and even
before the war was building up a fine business. That event cut off our
Southern supply, and for a few years June and strawberries again came
together. But after the welcome peace, many Southern fields grew red
once more, but not with blood, and thronged, but chiefly by women and
children. Soil, climate, and superb water communications speedily
restored to Norfolk the vantage which she will probably maintain; but
fleet steamers are giving more southern ports a chance. Charleston,
South Carolina, is second only in importance. In the spring of '79,
every week four steamers were loaded for New York, and strawberries
formed no insignificant proportion of the freight. Indeed, the supply
from Charleston was so large that the price in April scarcely repaid
the cost of some shipments. The proprietor of a commission house,
largely engaged in the Southern fruit trade, told me he thought that
about one third as many strawberries came from Charleston as from
Norfolk. From careful inquiries made on the ground, I am led to
believe--if it has not already attained this position--that Norfolk is
rapidly becoming the largest strawberry centre in the world, though
Charleston is unquestionably destined to become its chief rival in the
South. The latter city, however, has not been able to monopolize the
far Southern trade, and never have I seen a finer field of
strawberries than was shown me in the suburbs of Savannah. It
consisted of a square of four acres, set with Neunan's Prolific, the
celebrated Charleston berry.
And now Florida, with its unrivalled oranges, is beginning to furnish
tons of strawberries, that begin ripening in our midwinter; and, with
its quick, sandy soil and sunny skies, threatens to render the growing
of this fruit under glass unprofitable. I saw last winter, at
Mandarin, quite an extensive strawberry farm, under the care of
Messrs. Bowen Brothers, and was shown their skilful appliances for
shipping the fruit. At Jacksonville, also, Captain William James is
succeeding finely in the culture of some of our Northern varieties,
the Seth Boyden taking the lead.
I think I can better present the characteristics of strawberry culture
in the South by aiming to give a graphic picture of the scenes and
life on a single farm than is possible by general statements of what I
have witnessed here and there. I have therefore selected for
description a plantation at Norfolk, since this city is the centre of
the largest trade, and nearly midway in the Atlantic strawberry belt,
I am also led to make this choice because here is to be found, I
believe, the largest strawberry farm in the world, and its varied
labors illustrate most of the Southern aspects of the question.
The reader may imagine himself joining our little party on a lovely
afternoon about the middle of May. We took one of the fine, stanch
steamers of the Old Dominion line at three P.M., and soon were
enjoying, with a pleasure that never palls, the sail from the city to
the sea. Our artistic leader, whose eye and taste were to illumine and
cast a glamour over my otherwise matter-of-fact text, was all aglow
with the varied beauties of the scene, and he faced the prospect
beyond the "Hook" with no more misgivings than if it were a "painted
ocean." But there are occasions when the most heroic courage is of no
avail.
Only in the peace and beauty that crowned the closing hours of the day
as we steamed past Fortress Monroe and up the Elizabeth river, did the
prosaic fade out of the hours just past, and now before us was the
"sunny South" and strawberries and cream.
In the night there was a steady downfall of rain, but sunshine came
with the morning, and we found that the spring we had left at the
North was summer here, and saw that the season was moving forward with
quickened and elastic tread. Before the day grew warm we started from
our hotel at Norfolk for the strawberry plantation, rattling and
bouncing past comfortable and substantial homes, over a pavement that
surpassed even the ups and downs of fortune. Here and there,
surrounded by a high brick wall, would be seen a fine old mansion,
embowered in a wealth of shrubbery and foliage that gave, even in the
midst of the city, a suburban seclusion. The honeysuckle and roses are
at home in Norfolk, and their exquisite perfume floated to us across
the high garden fences. Thank Heaven! some of the best things in the
world cannot be walled in. St. Paul's Church and quaint old burying-
ground, shadowed by trees, festooned with vines, and gemmed with
flowers, seemed so beautiful, as we passed, that we thought its
influence on the secular material life of the people must be almost as
good through the busy week as on the Sabbath.
The houses soon grew scattering, and the wide, level, open country
stretched away before us, its monotony broken here and there by groves
of pine. The shell road ceased and our wheels now passed through many
deep puddles, which in Virginia seem sacred, since they are preserved
year after year in exactly the same places. A more varied class of
vehicles than we met from time to time would scarcely be seen on any
other road in the country. There were stylish city carriages and
buggies, grocer and express wagons, great lumbering market trucks
laden with barrels of early cabbages, spring wagons, drawn by mules,
piled up with crates from many a strawberry field in the interior, and
so, on the descending scale, till we reach the two-wheeled, primitive
carts drawn by cows--all converging toward some Northern steamer,
whose capacious maw was ready to receive the produce of the country.
We had not proceeded very far before we saw in the distance a pretty
cottage, sheltered by a group of tall, primeval pines, and on the
right of it a large barn-like building, with a dwelling, office,
smithy, sheds, etc., grouped about it. A previous visit enabled me to
point out the cottage as the home of the proprietor, and to explain
that the seeming barn was a strawberry crate manufactory. As was the
case on large plantations in the olden time, almost everything
required in the business is made on the place, and nearly every
mechanical trade has a representative in Mr. Young's employ.
As we drove up under the pines, the proprietor of the farm welcomed us
with a cordial hospitality, which he may have acquired in part from
his residence in the South. On the porch stood a slender lady, whose
girlish grace and delicate beauty at once captivated the artists of
our party.
There was the farm we had come to see, stretching away before us in
hundreds of green, level acres. As we drove to a distant field in
which the pickers were then engaged, we could see the ripening berries
with one side blushing toward the sun. Passing a screen of pines, we
came out into a field containing thirteen acres of Wilson
strawberries, and then more fully began to realize the magnitude of
the business. Scattered over the wide area, in what seemed
inextricable confusion to our uninitiated eyes, were hundreds of men,
women, and children of all ages and shades of color, and from the
field at large came a softened din of voices, above the monotony of
which arose here and there snatches of song, laughter mellowed by
distance, and occasionally the loud, sharp orders of the overseers,
who stalked hither and thither, wherever their "little brief
authority" was most in requisition.
We soon noted that the confusion was more apparent than real, and that
each picker was given a row over which he--or, more often, she--bent
with busy fingers until it was finished. At central points crates were
piled up, and men known as "buyers" received the round quart baskets
from the trays of the pickers, while wide platform carts, drawn by
mules, were bringing empty crates and carrying away those that had
been filled.
Along the road that skirted the field, and against a pretty background
of half-grown pines, motley forms and groups were moving to and fro,
some seeking the "buyers" with full trays, others returning to their
stations in the field with a new supply of empty baskets. Some of the
pickers were drifting away to other fields, a few seeking work late in
the day; more, bargaining with the itinerant venders of pies, made to
last all summer if not sold, gingerbread, "pones," and other
nondescript edibles, at which an ostrich would hesitate in well-
grounded fear of indigestion, but for which sable and semi-sable
pickers exchange their berry tickets and pennies as eagerly as we buy
Vienna rolls. Two or three barouches and buggies that had brought
visitors were mingled with the mule-carts; and grouped together for a
moment might be seen elegantly attired ladies from New York, slender
mulatto girls, clad in a single tattered, gown which scantily covered
their bare ankles and feet, and stout, shiny negro women, their waists
tied with a string to prevent their flowing drapery from impeding
their work. Flitting to and fro were numberless colored children,
bare-headed, bare-legged, and often, with not a little of their sleek
bodies gleaming through the innumerable rents of their garments, their
eyes glittering like black beads, and their white teeth showing on the
slightest provocation to mirth. Indeed, the majority of the young men
and women were chattering and laughing much of the time, and only
those well in the shadow of age worked on in a stolid, plodding
manner. Mingled indiscriminately with the colored people were not a
few white women and children, and occasionally a white man. As a rule,
these were better dressed, the white girls wearing sun-bonnets of
portentous size, whose cavernous depths would make a search for beauty
on the part of our artist a rather close and embarrassing scrutiny.
The colored women as often wore a man's hat as any other, and
occasionally enlivened the field with a red bandana. Over all the
stooping, moving, oddly apparelled forms, a June-like sun was shining
with summer warmth. Beyond the field a branch of Tanner's Creek
shimmered in the light, tall pines sighed in the breeze on the right,
and from the copse-wood at their feet quails were calling, their
mellow whistle blending with the notes of a wild Methodist air. In the
distance rose the spires of Norfolk, completing a picture whose
interest and charm I have but faintly suggested.
Several of the overseers are negroes, and we were hardly on the ground
before one of these men, in the performance of his duty, shouted in a
stentorian voice:
"Heah, you! Git up dar, you long man, off'n yer knees. What yo'
mashin' down a half-acre o' berries fer?"
Mr. Sheppard was quick to see a good subject, and almost in a flash he
had the man posed and motionless in his attitude of authority, and
under his rapid strokes Jackson won fame and eminence, going to his
work a little later the hero of the field. The overseer's task is a
difficult one, for the pickers least given to prayer are oftenest on
their knees, crushing the strawberries, and whether they are "long" or
short, much fruit is destroyed. North and South, the effort to keep
those we employ off the berries must be constant, especially as a
long, hot day is waning. Indeed, one can scarcely blame them for
"lopping down," for it would be inquisitorial torture to most of us to
stoop upon our feet through a summer day. Picking strawberries, as a
steady business, is wofully prosaic.
While the sun had been shining so brightly there had been an
occasional heavy jar and rumble of thunder, and now the western sky
was black. Gradually the pickers had disappeared from the Wilson
field, and we at last followed them, warned by an occasional drop of
rain to seek the vicinity of the house. Having reached the grassy
slope beneath the pines in the rear of the dwelling, we turned to note
the pretty scene. A branch of Tanner's Creek came up almost to our
feet, and on either side of it stretched away long rows of
strawberries as far as the eye could reach. Toward these the throng of
pickers now drifted, "seeking fresh fields and pastures new." The
motley crowd was streaming down on either side of the creek, while
across a little causeway came a counter current, the majority of them
having trays full of berries. The buyers, like the traders with the
nomad Indians, open traffic anywhere, and at the shortest notice. A
mule-cart was stopped, a few empty crates taken off and placed under
the pines at our feet, and soon the grass was covered with full quart
baskets, for which the pickers received tickets and then passed on,
or, as was often the case, threw themselves down in the shade. The
itinerant venders came flocking in like so many buzzards. There was at
once chaffering and chaffing, eating and drinking. All were merry.
Looking on the groups before us, one would imagine that the sky was
serene. And yet, frowning upon this scene of careless security, this
improvident disregard of a swiftly coming emergency, was one of the
blackest of clouds. Every moment the thunder was jarring and rolling
nearer, and yet this jolly people, who "take no thought," heeded not
the warning. Even the buyers and packers seemed infected with a like
spirit, and were leisurely packing in crates the baskets of berries
scattered on the grass, when suddenly Mr. Young, with his fleet, black
horse, came flying down upon us. Standing up in his buggy, he gave a
dozen rapid orders, like an officer on the field in a critical moment.
The women, who had been lounging with their hands on their hips,
shuffled off with their trays; half-burned pipes are hastily emptied;
gingerbread and like delicacies are stuffed into capacious mouths,
since hands must be employed at once. Packers, mules, everybody,
everything, are put upon the double-quick to prepare for the shower.
It is too late, however, for down come the huge drops as they can fall
only in the South. The landscape grows obscure, the forms of the
pickers in the distance become dim and misty, and when at last it
lightens up a little, they have disappeared from the fields. There
they go, streaming and dripping toward the barns and sheds, looking as
bedraggled as a flock of black Spanish fowls. Such of the mule-drivers
as have been caught, now that they are in for it, drive leisurely by
with the heavy crates that they should have gathered up more promptly.
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