Origin of Strawberries
When the world was new, there was one man and one woman. They were happy; then they quarreled. At last, the woman left the man and began to walk away toward the Sunland, the Eastland. The man followed. He felt sorry, but the woman walked straight on. She did not look back.
Then Sun, the great Apportioner, was sorry for the man. He said, “Are you still angry with your wife?”
The man said, “No.”
Sun said, “Would you like to have her come back to you?”
“Yes,” said the man.
So Sun made a great patch of huckleberries which he placed in front of the woman’s trail. She passed them without paying any attention to them. Then Sun made a clump of blackberry bushes and put those in front of her trail. The woman walked on. Then Sun created beautiful service-berry bushes that stood beside the trail. Still, the woman walked on.
So Sun made other fruits and berries. But the woman did not look at them.
Then Sun created a patch of beautiful ripe strawberries. They were the first strawberries. When the woman saw those, she stopped to gather a few. As she gathered them, she turned her face toward the west. Then she remembered the man. She turned to the Sunland but could not go on. She could not go any further.
Then the woman picked some of the strawberries and started back on her trail, away from the Sunland. So her husband met her, and they went back together.
European folklore holds that if two people share a double berry, they're bound to fall in love. Medieval stonemasons carved strawberries on cathedrals to symbolize perfection. In provincial France, newlyweds were fed a breakfast of strawberry soup.
And even today, when berries grown who-knows-where are available in the dead of winter — the sight of the first local berries, those berries that taste perfectly sweet, the way berries are supposed to taste — still have the power to stop us in our tracks. We pick up a quart or two or three. We give thanks and head home smiling, thinking sweet thoughts about how we might enjoy them and who we'd like to feed.
When the world was new, there was one man and one woman. They were happy; then they quarreled. At last, the woman left the man and began to walk away toward the Sunland, the Eastland. The man followed. He felt sorry, but the woman walked straight on. She did not look back.
Then Sun, the great Apportioner, was sorry for the man. He said, “Are you still angry with your wife?”
The man said, “No.”
Sun said, “Would you like to have her come back to you?”
“Yes,” said the man.
So Sun made a great patch of huckleberries which he placed in front of the woman’s trail. She passed them without paying any attention to them. Then Sun made a clump of blackberry bushes and put those in front of her trail. The woman walked on. Then Sun created beautiful service-berry bushes that stood beside the trail. Still, the woman walked on.
So Sun made other fruits and berries. But the woman did not look at them.
Then Sun created a patch of beautiful ripe strawberries. They were the first strawberries. When the woman saw those, she stopped to gather a few. As she gathered them, she turned her face toward the west. Then she remembered the man. She turned to the Sunland but could not go on. She could not go any further.
Then the woman picked some of the strawberries and started back on her trail, away from the Sunland. So her husband met her, and they went back together.
European folklore holds that if two people share a double berry, they're bound to fall in love. Medieval stonemasons carved strawberries on cathedrals to symbolize perfection. In provincial France, newlyweds were fed a breakfast of strawberry soup.
And even today, when berries grown who-knows-where are available in the dead of winter — the sight of the first local berries, those berries that taste perfectly sweet, the way berries are supposed to taste — still have the power to stop us in our tracks. We pick up a quart or two or three. We give thanks and head home smiling, thinking sweet thoughts about how we might enjoy them and who we'd like to feed.
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