The Strawberry Lady is welcomed in midwinter in northern cities

CHARLESTON, W.Va. " She's the Pied Piper of produce, her truck loaded with flats of strawberries attracting a steady stream of customers eager for nature's sweet red treats in the middle of winter.

Known as The Strawberry Lady, Wanda Miller sells goodies shipped from her native Florida during weekly runs across southern West Virginia.

She's not just a link between the fields and the customers. Through the years she's come to know many of the folks that frequent her regular stops. Much of her business is repeat customers cultivated through word of mouth.

At $24 for a 12-pint flat, or $13 for a half flat, it's a bargain. Big stores charge nearly $5 for a quart-sized container of hardly ripe berries that taste nowhere close to the richness of Miller's delights.

"They're so much better than what you get in the store," Janet Booker of Charleston said after her weekly purchase of a flat that she splits with her sister.

The Camarosa variety is grown east of Tampa and shipped at just the right time. The berries have a shelf life of up to 10 days if kept cool.

"In the winter time, there's not a whole lot going on. I guess it's a nice treat to have some berries or something fresh like that coming out of Florida," Miller said. "I guess that's what attracts people. It's just the novelty of having something fresh that time of year. It's something we can't get until the home growns come in."

Miller moved to the Charleston area in 1994, and her business has its roots in church functions, where she would bring a large bowl of fruit salad. One time another churchgoer who was a grocery store manager asked about the fruit's origin.

"That's the one thing I missed when I moved up here was the fresh fruit," Miller said. "We were used to just walking out back, getting an orange off the tree. It was real convenient to have the fresh fruit. And none of the fruit (here) ever tasted like it was fresh, to me. So I told my brother to send me some."

She started offering strawberries and citrus to stores in the area but didn't like how she was being haggling over her prices. So she and her husband set out on their own about six years ago.

Her son, Brian, a pharmacist, assists her on runs to Charleston, South Charleston, Teays Valley and Huntington. Citrus and strawberries also are supplied for school fundraisers near her home in Gallipolis, Ohio.

"My husband and I love this business, not for the money," Miller said. "We come to the same people every week. You become familiar with their faces."

It's easy enough to know when Miller's 700-flat truck stops outside " no bullhorn required. Just watch all the office workers streaming off the elevators.

Miller has her berries shipped by independent contractor, usually twice a week. In the past they came from her brother's farm, but he suffered a herniated disc at the end of last year's growing season and has leased his land to another farmer. This year the berries are from another grower.

Fickle Mother Nature put a stop to shipments a few times during a January cold snap that halted the ripening process. That's when Miller has to put up with a few complaints.

Booker makes a strawberry pizza for a friend's birthday every year. When Miller didn't show up one recent week, Booker's husband had to go to four different stores to find nice-looking strawberries " "and still didn't find them," Booker said.

"We always get people that say, 'I had a wedding,' or 'I had a shower and I was really counting on them,"' Miller said. "That's so understandable, but that's something we have no control over. As cold as it's been up here the last few weeks, it does get cold down there."

Jean Boggess of Dunbar collected strawberry orders from co-workers at a doctor's office, got a printout of Miller's schedule and hunted her down. Boggess recalled using them for her father's 80th birthday party last year.

"We had chocolate fountains and everybody wanted to know where we got these good strawberries in January. Because you can't get them around here," Boggess said.

Miller is used to that kind of enthusiasm.

"They always say, 'Oh you're the most popular person in town.' I say, 'no, it's not me. It's the strawberries."'