Huckleberry Picking Day

Ahhh, yes.  Once a year, it is my wifely duty to go on the annual huckleberry picking trip.  The whole idea has the most romantic sound to it, doesn’t it?  And once upon a time as a starry eyed city slicker woman in her mid thirties, who married a very passionate country boy who was farm bred and raised,  I actually got excited about the idea of  spending the afternoon out in the woods, gathering little berries to make a wonderful pies. Once upon a time….

Well reality has a way of spoiling the most romantic of notions. Our first huckleberry outing started out pretty well actually.  Dan had packed up a nice little picnic lunch to be eaten that afternoon on the mountain.  The scenery on the way to his hidden little spot was stellar for sure, although there was a narrow dirt road &  a few pot holes to deal with.  The car was not too badly damaged that first time out.  I just decided that it would probably be best if we took his car up next time, since he’s far more careless with my car than his own.

our favorite huckleberry picking spot

Once we reached the traditional Elliott picking spot, we piled out of the car with buckets attached to our belts, insearch of fruit bearing bushes. The bushes are prevalent.  But the berries are not always.  So it becomes a bit like finding a needle in a haystack.  Or hunting for Easter eggs.  A few hours of this is terrific.  But I learned that day that we do not drive all that distance to spend just a few measly hours searching for hucks.  We would stay until dark, until our feet were blistered and bloodied from walking through the woods on unstable terrain, until we had fallen into at least a half dozen holes, and bruised ourselves, until the mosquitoes had sucked all the lifeblood out of our bodies.  But worst of all, we had to stay long enough for me to do the one thing I have always dreaded more than anything else in my life.  Peeing in the woods. 

A very fruitful bush!

 At some point during the day, I finally realized I could no longer keep holding on.  I had to relieve myself. And so off I went in search of a hidden spot. (Not an easy task when you are picking berries with an entire family).  My stepdaughter had given me a few pointers on how to do it correctly.  I needed to find a fallen trunk somewhere, and squat over  it, like it was a toilet in a dirty gas station.  Lordy,  I truly would have rather just died at this point.  But off I went in search of a hidden spot with a fallen log.  It took a good 10 minutes just to accomplish this.  By now I was desperate.  I no longer cared too terribly much that I had to pull down my pants in the middle of the woods.  I prayed that one of my children, or worse yet a perfect stranger, would not stumble upon me there.  For one fleeting moment, I wished I could just be a guy and do it quick and easy.

And so I squatted and …that’s when  I discovered the whole tree log thing didn’t make a whole lot of sense…unless it was a really skinny tree.  Because as I sat there, I began to feel my hand get warm. “Please tell me this isn’t happening”, I’m thinking as I readjusted my body. And as I readjusted, I soiled my jeans. This was without a doubt one of the most disgusting moments of my life!  Thank God for Wet Wipes!  They came in mighty handy that day. 

 I think I decided at that moment that I really hated the whole idea of going huckleberry picking.  How can it be that this is like my husband’s most favorite day of the year?  So like any good little wife is supposed to do, I make compromises.  And I do this with him once a year.  Unless I can find an excuse to bail out.  I’ve gotten somewhat better at it though.  I remember to bring gloves, so that my hands stay clean.  The berries are very sticky and will stain your skin purple. I wear a hat to protect myself from sunburn and it helps minimize the yellow jackets and mosquitoes that fly around your head while you’re out there picking from the berry bushes.  I do pack some bug repellent, and try to wear gray or brown tones. (Stinging insects are attracted to reds and yellows). Most importantly, I bring Wet Wipes!

Huckleberry picking is hard work.  If you ever see someone trying to sell you a gallon of huckleberries for $35 a gallon, let me tell you, that is a bargain! Huckleberries are so tiny that it takes several hours just to collect a half gallons worth.  See photos below.

huckleberries in the hand

an hours worth of huckleberry pickin in a half gallon bucket

By the time you’ve figured in your time spent up there and a full tank of gas, those little gallons are easily worth $100 each.  But if you happen to be married to someone like my Dan, the berries are worth even more.  Why, you ask?  Well, it just so happens that this year, I sort of thought we’d go ahead and take my car up again, since it has a little more room than his truck.  And we had a son coming to join us on this day.  Well, at some point in this trip, Dan jumped into the car and drove on up the road to get the car turned around.  As I mentioned earlier, the roads to these spots are narrow and unpaved.  I heard a crunching noise from where I stood waiting for him to return.  When he came around the bend it looked as if the entire underside of the car had been relocated to the front of the car.  And there was leaking underneath as well.  He had run over a tree stump, just a little bit, while making the turn around.  Truly, the damage was not as bad as it originally looked.  And I take full responsibility for what happened, since I knew in my heart it was wiser to take his truck than my car.  And yet I didn’t listen to my instincts.

Yet, for all my griping, I must tell you plainly, there is nothing more wonderful than a piece of hot huckleberry pie with a scoop of Eberhard’s Vanilla ice cream on the side. Priceless. And so, here is my recipe for huckleberry pie. 

 Priceless Huckleberry Pie

Mix 5 cups of huckleberries with

2 cups of sugar

1/4 cup tapioca

1/2 tsp almond extract

Let sit together in a bowl for about half hour.

Pour into an unbaked pie shell.

Top berries with 1 TBS butter

And top crust, add 5-6 slits in the top for steam vents

Bake at 400 for 45-50 minutes.

Serve w/ Eberhard’s Vanilla Ice cream

Enjoy!

The Farmers Wife

Welcome to another additon of  Tea On Tuesday. Today I am sipping Orange Pineapple Black Tea from my dining room perch, and enjoying another lovely Central Oregon day. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered how on earth I arrived here in Central Oregon. I am a Southern California girl at heart, who transplanted at a young age to Southern Nevada.  The Las Vegas area, where I spent most of my growing up years, is a desert.  The only thing that grows there is cactus, Oleander bushes, and weeds. I had never seen snow.  And animals don’t just graze in peoples front yards.

Yeah, it’s a different world where I grew up.  A home cooked meal meant going to The Railroad Pass Casino for their Sunday afternoon smorgasborg. Taking a hike meant driving to the Meadows Mall and looking for a new pair of shoes in air conditioned comfort.  How I arrived here in Oregon is one of God’s many mysteries. But from the start, it has been a bit like landing on another planet.  And 15 years later, I’m still scratching my head trying to figure it out.

I married an Oregon farm boy, who grew up and became a preacher, and later went into teaching and coaching. This means he knows literally every person in town, (even if he can’t always remember their names). He is very friendly, energetic, generous, involved in everything, (and forgetful).

I consider myself to be a tight person.  I have a small circle of close friends I’m fairly tight with.  And I’m cordial, but not overly personable, with everyone else.  This makes me look like a snob next to Mr. Congeniality, who continually volunteers us for any, and all, community events.  He is an extrovert in every sense of the word.  I prefer to be left alone much of the time.  I have plenty personal activites that keep me happily occupied all day long.  But more often than not, I keep busy assisting my husband with some of his activities.

Let’s take for instance farming/gardening.  My husband grew up on a farm, so farming seems to be in his blood in a powerful way. One thing I had to learn was that farmers get very attached to their little plots of land.  And they would really prefer to never move. Ever. They’d sooner sell their own body parts, than to relocate.

The farmer engages in weekly weed wars

Last summer I shared my gardening adventures here in a series of posts titled ” The Zucchini Chronicles”. Several women commented on how lucky I was to have all that zucchini. Bah, humbug.  Only a woman who has never been married to a farmer would dare to say that. The growing season in Oregon is very short. So while the idea of having a lovely little garden to go out and pick and choose all the fresh vegetables I want, any time I want, sounds deliciously inviting, the reality is that in a stretch of about  6 weeks,  we will harvest about 250 pounds of zucchini.  A variety of lettuce and spinach will also be brought in at the rate of  6-8 heads per week. Corn…oh mercy, we get a lot of corn. Carrots, potatoes, onions, peas, beans, broccoli, cauliflower, yadda, yadda. All of these things are good things in moderation.  But they can be overwhelming when they all come on at once. We have one refrigerator.  The produce drawer is broke from all the weight of the produce.  And this is just the beginning.  Last year, Dan planted an orchard as well, so we could have peaches, and plums, and apples, and pears too.

What to do with all that stuff?  Many people have suggested canning.  Yippee-Cay-yae!  Think of all the time I could spend doing something I have absolutely no interest in.  Now don’t get me wrong, because I love to cook.  And I love fresh fruits and vegetables, in moderation.  But there are only two of us living here. A thousand square foot garden, plus an orchard is a lot of food to consume for 2 people during a 6 week harvest. I have learned to make pies. (I’d rather make cake and cookies).  But farm boys eat pie.  Lots of pie. That’s why he planted an orchard, so I could make more pie.

And yes, we have learned that some produce is freezable.  But freezing produce is also time consuming.  There is a process of cleaning, drying, blanching, separating, freezing, removing from freezer, and transferring to Food Saver Bags, removing air, and re-freezing.

Anxiously awaitning another zucchini harvest

One of the things Dan likes to do with produce is decorate, especially if there is company coming.  I will be busy in the kitchen, cooking and cleaning, setting tables, etc.  I usually like to lay food out on the counter, buffet style, and let guests help themselves.  About 5 minutes before showtime, when there is nothing left to do but make sure the toilet seat is down and clean, I walk swiftly through the kitchen and find that suddenly a harvest has appeared on the counter, and the buffet food has been ”adjusted” accordingly.  Half dozen heads of corn, a couple heads of lettuce, and 3 dirt covered onions have mysteriously appeared, as if part of the buffet line.  Earwigs are scampering in all directions. The doorbell rings.

This is the life of the farmers wife.  It is a good life, albeit frustrating at times. Thank God, the season is short. This too shall pass. In the meantime, I’ll grin and bear it, while I throw another pie in the oven. Below is my recipe for French Rhubarb Pie.

French Rhubarb Pie

3 cups rhubarb, diced                                          3/4 cup flour

1 tsp vanilla                                                           1/3 cup margarine

1 TB flour                                                               1/2 cup brown sugar

1 cup sugar                                                           1   9 inch unbaked pie shell.

1 egg

Combine Rhubarb with next 4 ingredients, (left column). Toss until well mixed and spoon into pie shell.

Combine the next 3 ingredients, (right column), mix well until crumbly.  Sprinkle over rhubarb filling.

Bake at 400 for 10 minutes, then turn oven down to 350, and bake 40 minutes longer.  A quick,  easy, (and delicious way), to utilize  your rhubarb.  Rhubarb really doesn’t freeze that well.

Want more recipes?  I post recipes on two other sites.  Check out www.sconeyisland.net  and http://gatheringtimes.shutterfly.com

Blessings-

Tea Lady Darla

If Walls Could Talk….

Well, apparently I must think I’ve got quite a lot to say, since one blog is no longer enough for this ole gal.  Tea On Tuesday has been, and will continue to be, the place where I share my heartfelt thoughts with family and friends over a hot cup of Tea.  “If Walls Could Talk” will be geared to different subject matter more relevent to the many contacts I have in Redmond through business and church, with a twist of Pastor Steve’s exhortation to “engage the culture in which we live”. You will find crafty ideas, Redmond business spotlights, suggested places to go, fun things to do, political polls, people I know, and, (once in a while), personal opinions on current events. Oh yeah.  You don’t want to miss this.  Darla attempts to have tact about subjects she feels passionate about.

This month features some fun holiday suggestions for places to go and things to do in Redmond. (Don’t miss my little post about  “THE HEN’S TOOTH” ).   I hope you will stop by and check out my fun new blog at www.letterladydarla.blogspot.com . And let me know what you think. 

Thanks,

Tea Lady Darla