I’ve heard of ever-bearing berries, but not in my wildest dreams did I ever think I’d be harvesting my first fruits of the season after everything else had gone to bed for the winter. 

Last week, we all got the storm we knew could happen but hoped would not. It must have been 15 years or more since I remember snow of any significance before Thanksgiving, let alone as much as we got. To my dismay, my snowblower and generator were both not working yet. Fortunately, we only needed the snowblower, which might have proven useless anyway given how wet and heavy the snow was.

By God’s mercy, we have good neighbors besides our own family, who happened to be plowing the end of the lane and offered to push out our driveway. They even assisted me with cutting and removing the top of a large tree that had cracked off and blocked the road. 

Once we had the access taken care of, though, my attention turned to the other things affected by the snow. The animals and the plants.

The animals were easy enough to get to. They had little interest in being let out into the snow, and after feeding them they were perfectly content to cozy up in their respective huts. One of our chickens even made herself comfortable with the goats, having escaped her own enclosure to enjoy the deep hay bed that we had just given the quadrupeds. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to mind her company at all and it was simply an amusing redistribution of shelter. 

About the plants, on the other hand, I was more concerned. Granted, we had just pulled most of the ones in the greenhouse out, having largely finished our season, but there was still a patch of experimental winter peas and Swiss chard in the greenhouse as well as our strawberries, which will reside there for at least another few years, Lord willing. 

My concern for the strawberries wasn’t the cold, but rather whether or not the greenhouse would withstand the weight of the snow. The children, along with the wife and me, trudged down the snow-white winter way toward the hundred-foot-long hothouse. Upon arrival, we were relieved to find that it was still standing despite having a fairly heavy blanket on top. Given its domed shape, it evenly carried the weight of the snow across from end to end and side to side. 

As we entered, however, we could see the snow beginning to melt. The warm temperatures that followed the storm were definitely helpful in alleviating the remnants. It took nearly three or four days until the snow was mostly melted from the roof and walls. 

But while we were there on the day of the storm, I took stock of our remaining plant life and was surprised at what I found. The peas had been growing rather slowly—which was to be expected—but they were still putting off a few pods here and there, which the boys ate like little green candies. 

The Swiss chard looked wilted over, perhaps due to the temperatures, but was still very crisp and stout. I hope we can continue to eat some of this as the winter progresses. 

On the long bed, I began to notice little red spots in clusters throughout the green leaves. Strawberries! They first fruited this past spring and continued through much of June and into July. Later in the fall, we had a few sporadic berries with what I can only assume were boosts in the groundwater and some latent fertilizer. Now though, even as several inches of snow insulated the plastic above them, they began to fruit and blush, filling out the bed they have called home for almost two years. 

The way out here, we often find surprises in the shadow of demise. What started as a mild hope that we wouldn’t suffer catastrophe at the hands of the weather turned into a treat that we had not anticipated in the least. Years ago, I used to have a great deal of trouble making strawberry plants survive, let alone fruit. Perhaps this is a sign of things to come, a turn of the tide via our fruit amidst the frost.