You didn’t buy these. You found them.
Just off the path, sun-warmed and hiding beneath lace-edged leaves.
Tiny, imperfect, and sweeter than anything at the market, Wild Strawberries were never meant to be cultivated. In 1936, they were picked into tin pails, hat brims, and the folds of an apron, never lasting long enough to make it back to the house.
Fragaria vesca grows low to the ground, sending out runners like secrets, each one ending in a heart-shaped leaf or a single blushing fruit. The blossoms are humble, the berries are fleeting, and the flavor? Irrefutably summer.
It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t travel. But once tasted, never forgotten.
You didn’t buy these. You found them.
Just off the path, sun-warmed and hiding beneath lace-edged leaves.
Tiny, imperfect, and sweeter than anything at the market, Wild Strawberries were never meant to be cultivated. In 1936, they were picked into tin pails, hat brims, and the folds of an apron, never lasting long enough to make it back to the house.
Fragaria vesca grows low to the ground, sending out runners like secrets, each one ending in a heart-shaped leaf or a single blushing fruit. The blossoms are humble, the berries are fleeting, and the flavor? Irrefutably summer.
It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t travel. But once tasted, never forgotten.
9.5” x 15.75”
Custom framing available upon request, please inquire.
