In current times strawberries and generally berries are considered to be super
food. I have been always a bit careful about what I eat and, I must confess, even worried about my health. Perhaps overly so, but with my Polish background this is normal. An average
Pole is very much preoccupied with health and diet. I even heard that
Poles like to be sick. Being sick gives a certain amount of self-importance and
commands attention of others. But I have digressed and the simple point I am trying to make is that I
eat strawberries every day as I consider them good for me. When at home, I eat Australian type of strawberries, the berries I looked down at some years. I even did not eat
them for a long time considering them inferior to the strawberries I was used to in Europe. With time my memories of old fashioned European type of strawberries faded and the
Australian strawberries improved its taste and prices, so now I eat them every day with
my breakfast. The strawberries here are big, read and firm. From
time to time, they even have pleasant taste. They last few days in my fridge
and much longer in the fridge of the local fruit market and prior to that at the growers’
fridges. I wonder how many days pass from the time the strawberries are picked
to the time they land up on my plate.
Often, the
memories of old days come to me together with the memories of fragrance of old
fashioned strawberries my father used to grow. He came from the family of
farmers and always had a farmer sole in him even if he led an urban life of
a business person. As his business became successful he was able to indulge in
a hobby farm near the industries town we lived in. He started an orchard which
with time became a show case for the university of agriculture. The famous professor and his
students used to come and visit my father’s orchard as it was considered to be a model and example for modern cultivation
of apples.
My father was a
very pragmatic person and considered a waste of opportunities to be sinful. He had this orchard and as the apple trees were taking their time to become
productive he considered it a good idea to plant strawberries under the trees. As
I recall, in the first years potatoes were planted and strawberries followed as my
father’s knowledge of horticulture improved. My parents had a business to run
so there was little time to dedicate to the farm activities, especially that my
mother did not support my father enthusiasm for growing things. I was a child of
urban tastes with reading being my favourite pastime, but taken to the farm I
would partake in activities of the moment. I remember one day of potato-lifting
time. It was September or October and the air was cool and fresh. The hired people were working on the field and after a while of observing the activities
I joined in. As I was only a child my work had to be light, but father looked very
proud observing me lifting the potatoes from the black fragrant soil. I will always
remember the time and the smell of the air and the soil. I enjoyed what I was
doing and it gave me the feeling of accomplishment, but I did not understand then how magical the time actually was.
In those times
agriculture was based on the rhythm of the seasons. Strawberries were ready for
picking late June and early July. This is the time in Europe when the school year
finishes and it is time to go away for summer holiday. My family could not do
it, this was the strawberry season and one had to take advantage of it. This was
however only my father’s view, the rest of the family did not share his love of farming and I even felt deprived of rightful pleasures available to my school friends.
During the day
my parents worked in their business, but come afternoon, my father sneaked out to go to his garden farm to pick a couple of baskets of strawberries for his family.
He would proudly put them on the table in front of us and we would reluctantly pick
at some the most beautiful strawberries I have even tasted. Only I did not know
then that the fruit in front of me was so very special. I was upset that I had
to stay at home when some of my friends were at the seashore. And I did not
realise that my father was a very special man. The man of passion and wisdom, perseverance,
courage and many talents. I did not understand so many things then... He
was lonely in his passions; the family did not want to share his dreams. This
must have been difficult and discouraging, but he was not to be stopped even if
unappreciated by us. I am relieved to know that he was greatly appreciated by the agriculture
authorities of Poland, but saddened that this is only now that realise those things.
 |
| This was the man who considered my father an authority on growing apples. This man even has a monument. How blind I was not to see my father achievements... |
I know now that my
father was a great role model and I must have learned from him some things by osmosis,
and I am grateful to him for that. I feel sad, however, that I never told him about my respect and admiration. I understood things too late.
