Vintage Swedish Herbarium - Wild Strawberry, circa 1954
The wild strawberry. Smaller than you remember. Sweeter than you deserve.
Fragaria vesca doesn’t grow where it’s told. It appears where the sun breaks through—along forgotten forest paths, beside crumbling stone walls, anywhere a child might stumble upon it and think they’ve discovered treasure.
Collected, no doubt, by someone who knew better than to pick just the fruit. The leaves, the delicate white flowers, even the promise of sweetness—all pressed here, carefully, as if summer itself could be flattened and saved.
It isn’t just a berry. It’s a memory. Of bare feet, stained fingers, and the simple certainty that this—this tiny, perfect thing—was the best the world had to offer.
Still is.
The wild strawberry. Smaller than you remember. Sweeter than you deserve.
Fragaria vesca doesn’t grow where it’s told. It appears where the sun breaks through—along forgotten forest paths, beside crumbling stone walls, anywhere a child might stumble upon it and think they’ve discovered treasure.
Collected, no doubt, by someone who knew better than to pick just the fruit. The leaves, the delicate white flowers, even the promise of sweetness—all pressed here, carefully, as if summer itself could be flattened and saved.
It isn’t just a berry. It’s a memory. Of bare feet, stained fingers, and the simple certainty that this—this tiny, perfect thing—was the best the world had to offer.
Still is.
The wild strawberry. Smaller than you remember. Sweeter than you deserve.
Fragaria vesca doesn’t grow where it’s told. It appears where the sun breaks through—along forgotten forest paths, beside crumbling stone walls, anywhere a child might stumble upon it and think they’ve discovered treasure.
Collected, no doubt, by someone who knew better than to pick just the fruit. The leaves, the delicate white flowers, even the promise of sweetness—all pressed here, carefully, as if summer itself could be flattened and saved.
It isn’t just a berry. It’s a memory. Of bare feet, stained fingers, and the simple certainty that this—this tiny, perfect thing—was the best the world had to offer.
Still is.
9.5” x 15.75”
Custom framing available upon request, please inquire.