Why Growing Strawberries Matters More Than Ever

How a simple garden patch builds memories, community, and a stronger local food system

There’s a quiet kind of magic that happens when strawberries grow in your garden.

It’s not loud or flashy. It doesn’t announce itself.
It shows up barefoot, on a warm day, with red-stained fingers and berries eaten before they ever make it inside.

These are the moments that turn into family stories. The kind that get told years later, usually with a smile, and usually starting with, “Remember when we used to…”

Strawberries as Memory Keepers

Strawberries are often one of the first foods people remember growing or picking. They’re low to the ground, easy to reach, and generous. You don’t need special tools or years of experience. You just need to show up.

That accessibility matters.

When friends and family visit and wander into the strawberry patch, something shifts. Conversations slow down. People linger. Kids learn, without being taught, that food comes from care, patience, and attention.

These aren’t small things. They’re formative.

Growing Food Is About More Than Food

Growing strawberries isn’t just about the harvest. It’s about connection.

Connection to the land beneath your feet.
Connection to the people you share your space with.
Connection to knowledge that once lived in nearly every household.

For generations, growing food wasn’t a hobby. It was a shared responsibility. Somewhere along the way, we outsourced it almost entirely, and with that came distance — from the land, from seasons, and from each other.

Reintroducing even a small food patch into your yard begins to close that gap.

Backyard Gardens and Civic Responsibility

Growing food at home doesn’t mean going off-grid or doing everything yourself. It means participating.

A strawberry patch won’t replace a grocery store, but it does something just as important: it reinforces local resilience. When more households grow even a portion of their food, local food systems become stronger, more adaptable, and more human.

Seen this way, gardening becomes an act of civic responsibility.
Not driven by fear or scarcity, but by care.

Care for your family.
Care for your neighbors.
Care for the land that sustains all of us.

Why Strawberries Are the Perfect Place to Start

Strawberries are one of the most rewarding plants for home gardeners:

  • They’re perennial, returning year after year

  • They’re affordable to plant in meaningful quantities

  • They thrive in small spaces or dedicated patches

  • They produce quickly and generously

A common rule of thumb is about 10 plants per person for a real harvest. That’s enough to snack, share, and still have berries left for the kitchen.

But beyond yield, strawberries offer something less measurable and more enduring: joy.

Building Trust in a High-Tech World

We’re living in an age where technology, including AI, shapes much of what we see, read, and create. That makes credibility more important than ever.

Real experience.
Real place.
Real seasons.

At myBackyardHomestead, everything shared here is grounded in lived practice — growing food where I live, learning what works (and what doesn’t), and documenting the process as it unfolds.

Technology can help us learn faster and share more widely, but trust is built the old-fashioned way: through consistency, transparency, and connection to real life.

That’s what this space is about.

Bringing It Back Home

A basket of strawberries can feed more than bodies.

It feeds memory.
It feeds connection.
It feeds the kind of stories families carry forward.

If you’ve been thinking about starting a strawberry patch, there’s no better time. Planting strawberries is an invitation — to slow down, to participate, and to help rebuild local food systems one garden at a time.

Because growing food is not just about what we eat.
It’s about how we live, together.

Black Friday Homestead Win: Garlic, 18 Arborvitae Trees, and an Unexpected Garden Surprise

Yesterday was one of those days that reminds me why I’m building this life — not because everything went smoothly, but because it all came together in that imperfect way homesteading does.

I’d spent the morning driving Uber, bouncing between passengers and quiet moments alone in the car. My last drop-off of the day happened to be at Home Depot, and since I was already there, I decided to walk through the garden center. My original plan?

To look for materials to build a butterfly sculpture for the garden. The goal is to perfect the process so I can sell them. 

Colorado Springs is filled with public art — bright butterflies, metal horses, painted boxes, sculptures tucked into unexpected corners. It’s one of the things I love most about living here, and it’s been inspiring me to add more whimsical pieces to the homestead. So I walked toward the garden center out of habit, they have live Christmas trees, wreaths, and garland. I’ve wanted to grab some fresh garland so I thought I would take a look.

It was unusually warm for late November. A few display tables were pushed outside, something you don’t typically see this time of year. And that’s when I saw them:

Emerald Green Arborvitae.
1-gallon containers.
Little red holiday pots.
Tied with red bows.
$6.88 each.

A handwritten Special Buy sign marked them down from $12.98. I still don’t know if these were leftover holiday trees or if the other stores had simply sold out — but I knew a deal when I saw one. Especially here in the mountains, where trees usually come at mountain prices.

So I grabbed 15, I should have bought the entire table.
Loaded them into the back of the SUV.
And felt like I’d just won the garden lottery.

These trees are the beginning of my natural fencing and berm design — the quiet green walls I’m building to create a more peaceful, sheltered property. Today I went back and bought the last 3. That puts me at 18 trees total, ready to overwinter until they’re big enough to plant without becoming deer snacks.

And the funny thing?
I didn’t even go there for trees.
I went because butterflies inspired me.

Sometimes creativity leads you exactly where you need to go.


🌱 The Garlic Race Against Dark

By the time I got home, the sun was already dropping behind the ridge. I knew the cold was coming, and I had garlic ready to plant — but most of the garden beds were frozen solid. I couldn’t dig in a single one.

Except the strawberry bed.

I had covered it earlier in the fall with frost cloth and thick straw, and that small bit of protection kept the soil soft and unfrozen. So I knelt down, used my gloved hands, and dug the holes one by one — no shovel needed.

Forty-five minutes later, under the glow of a headlamp and the last scraps of daylight, every clove was in the ground.

Not perfect.
Not planned.
But done.

That’s homesteading.
That’s mountain life.
That’s building an intentional life — one small victory at a time.


🌼 And One More Win: Marigold Seeds

On Wednesday evening, before the weather changed, I harvested the last of the marigold seeds. Today I sat and cleaned them, sorting each dry seed from the spent petals. It’s meditative work — slow, steady, grounding. The kind of work that reminds me why I’m doing all this in the first place.

Come spring, these seeds will explode into the bright color that makes this place feel alive.


🌲 What Comes Next

This week’s unexpected wins — from the butterfly sculpture idea to the arborvitae sale to the garlic race — reminded me of something simple:

When you follow your curiosity, everything else falls into place.

These 18 little trees are the beginning of my natural fencing, my berms, and the quiet sanctuary I’m building on this land. The garlic is tucked in for winter. The marigolds are ready for next season. And the butterfly sculpture?
That’s still coming.

One day soon, I’ll record an art walk and share some of the Colorado Springs sculptures that inspire this place — because they’re part of this story, too.

For now, I’m just grateful for warm days in November, unexpected sales, loose soil, and the small, steady steps of creating the life I want.