I know they are ripe; I can see them through the chicken wire protection I built.
Yet I am not motivated at all to pick them. I picked a few when they first started to ripen. I had some on my Honey Nut Cheerios. And they were tasty, having just come out of the garden. Now some of the larger strawberries are ripe. Yet here I sit at 6:47 AM writing, instead of picking berries.
Last year it was different
I had a huge crop of big, juicy strawberries. Enough that my wife canned a dozen jars of strawberry jam. We had a jar, possibly two and the rest she gave away to family. Last year, everyone shared in the bounty of our strawberry harvest.
Last year’s strawberry harvest represented a win for my ingenuity over the birds, squirrels, and rabbits.
I was motivated to pick them. The plants were 3 years old and produced wonderful amounts of big berries. This year the plants are producing at a reduced level compared to last year. And my interest in harvesting them has dropped proportionately. Or so it seems.
Once again, I am back to rising to the task of doing what I must.
Harvesting strawberries is not a must. Visiting Mom, getting the recycling and trash to the landfill, where yesterday’s must-dos. And I did them. Beyond that, well I was less than focused. But I did make a list first thing yesterday morning.
And I did accomplish the first 5 things on the list. (It turns out I did 6!)
- Visit daughter
- Visit Mom
- Work in garden
The last 2, sweeping the wood floors and vacuuming the carpets never happened. Those were the want to do’s, not must do’s. Or at least I framed them that way. This gave me an out, a reason not to accomplish them. And I took the bait and did not do them.
Once again, I am exhibiting classic high-functioning depression.
Do what you must, expend your energy on that, and then figure out ways to recover. Making it look like nothing is bothering me is a hallmark of my depression. It works, but it requires a vast amount of energy.
This leaves little energy for anything else.
I never finished writing this yesterday. I had to leave it to go to work. Once again, I put on my best face and spent nine hours solving problems within company policy. But I did get home before the sun went down. I was able to join my wife for our evening walk around our property with our dog. She, our dog, loves the chance to investigate the smells of the different animals that have crossed her land.
So the jury is out on the strawberries, and they are still unpicked.
Suddenly I’m feeling as if I could get the colander and harvest a few. So I’ll end here.