The first harvest of strawberries is in, and my delight with them is all out of proportion to the monetary value of the crop. I would provide a photograph of the dozen or so fine berries, but I didn't think to take one until after the sun had set, and they need natural light to do justice to their transcendent beauty.
I put in the little plants last spring, I think, and last year they gave us a few scattered berries here and there; for the most part, however, they—with my blessing—devoted their energies to spreading and colonizing other sections of the gardens. I put up with that behavior, and in return they produced this year a wonderful crop, with at least a half dozen berries to each cluster of leaves. Even assuming that only one of each half dozen will survive birds, chipmunks, and rot to reach harvesting stage, the yield is something thrilling. We might even get enough berries to make the operation worthwhile monetarily: how many berries can you get at the store for the $4.99 I paid for the plants initially? Of course, these ones taste way better. I assume, that is; I haven't actually tried one yet.