Dead Strawberry Update

After waiting and waiting—and waiting some more—for our strawberry bed to wake up and start doing its thing this spring, we finally accepted the hard truth. They weren’t just sleeping in. They weren’t being lazy or dramatic or going through an ungrateful teenage plant phase.

They were dead.

Like, actually dead-dead.

And we think we finally figured out why.

Remember how I said we did everything possible to give our strawberries the very best start in life? Yeah... that might’ve been their undoing. Turns out, you can love your plants a little too hard if you're not careful.

We gave them top-notch compost, berry-specific fertilizer, the perfect sunny-yet-shady corner of the garden... and to top it off, we built them a cage. A deluxe little strawberry fortress, complete with a mesh roof and shade cloth to protect them from Colorado’s blazing summer sun. Because we care. Because we nurture. Because we are good plant parents.

Except we weren’t.

Last fall, we lovingly “put the garden to bed” by tucking every plot under a nice warm blanket of mulch. We kissed them goodnight, told them sweet dreams, and promised to see them in the spring.

What we didn't think about was how that shade-cloth-topped strawberry cage would block out the snow. And as weird as it sounds, snow is an excellent insulator. Combined with the mulch, it helps protect perennials like strawberries and asparagus from the deep freeze of winter.

But without that fluffy, heaven-sent snow insulation? The strawberry roots just froze solid. Right in their perfect, pampered little palace. How sad is that?!

We are bad strawberry parents.

Another hard lesson learned—one of about 473 so far on this wild ride we’re calling "insteading". Because "homesteading" is definitely not what this is.

Honestly, I’m kind of tired of learning things the hard way. Some days, I feel like just banging my head against the wall. Repeatedly.

But not to worry. I’ve already ordered more strawberry plants, and I can absolutely guarantee we will not be making that mistake again. Fifteen other mistakes? Sure. But not that one.