Posted by: literallydelicious | June 19, 2010

Swansboro Strawberries

When we lived in North Carolina, on late spring/early summer Saturdays, we loaded our two dogs, Duc and Jasper, into the truck and drove from Jacksonville to a farm on the way to Swansboro for strawberries. First, we’d drive into Swansboro to stop at a fast food place for burgers. We bought plenty for us and to share with the boys, plus the drive-through girl always had cookies for them. Next we’d park along the river and eat our burgers and fries, and we’d let the boys stretch their legs before loading up and heading to the farm.

Our plan every week was to get buckets, head out into the fields and pick our own berries. We never did it. Not once. It was always hot and humid, and there were always plenty of flats of already-picked strawberries just waiting for us. The first time we bought a couple quarts and headed home. That was when we found out that Duc and Jasper loved strawberries. Drooled over them. Begged shamelessly for them. By the time we got home, the berries were gone. We increased our purchase each week until we were buying a flat. I always thought I’d make strawberry jam, but I never did. We just ate them the way they were.

And they were incredible.



  1. YUM! I love strawberries plain, dipped in chocolate, with powdered sugar! Not so much processed.
    How funny about the boys! Sounds like Boomer.
    All our dogs love pears. Boo leaps 6 ft straight up and snatches enough for all.

    • When we used to take the puppers out for walks around the yard (instead of cutting them loose on a chain), when the fruit was ripe, we made sure to hit the trees first. Plums were my favorite; the dogs loved pears and apples. Bob held the leashes while I bit off chunks of apple (yep, never remembered to take a knife) to give the guys. This was always before breakfast and dinner, so for those weeks, they always got to eat dessert first.

  2. When I was a kid, we used to pick blackberries from a patch near my grandmother Jones’ house. That’s why to this day, I don’t pick berries. Too hot, too many stickers, and nothing to show for my work but a overfull tummy,

    • We picked dewberries. I loved them, but I remember getting covered with chiggers and having to watch out for snakes that liked to curl up inside the brambles. But I’d love to have one of my mom’s dewberry cobblers . . . and hear her say after her first bite, “It’s just not sweet enough.” (She ALWAYS said that.)

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