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!

My Funny Valentine

I am married to the most wonderful man in the world.  I know I’ve told you that before.  But I never get tired of sharing stories about my beloved with anyone who will listen.  So, if you’re so inclined, please join me for a cup of Mango Peach Black Tea and let me tell you about my funny Valentine.

I really don’t know how he puts up with me, as I am just a grumpy, (that’s one way of putting it), half spoiled porcupine most of the time.  In fact, that is what he calls me.  I got this name because he wakes up in a good mood every morning.  Tra-la-la. And because he is in a good mood, he tries to hold a conversation with me, or worse yet, show affection in the morning!!!  Gracious!  I have tried to train him better, but to no avail.   And so I do keep my quills pretty sharp in the morning…just in case.

I actually had some pretty cool stuff planned for Valentines Day this year.  But had to switch directions completely when DHS called us and asked us to take in a 17 year old for a few days.  I quickly came up with plan B for Valentines Day.  And then I got sick.  Really sick.  I’m not even sure I got out of bed on Valentines Day. I coughed and wheezed, and slept, and drank and ran into the little girls room every 30 minutes to relieve myself.  How romantic is that?!

My husband was incredible.  He had one of those mushy cards for me, with a $50 gift card to Macy’s tucked into it.  (Men, if you’re reading this, take notes!!) He also bought me a gorgeous contemporary vase with 3 rose petals situated amongst some river rocks.  Very chic choice for a redneck I thought. He also had purchased some steaks, salad fixins, garlic bread, and potatoes so he could make dinner for me.  Oh, and there were chocolates too. Dove Chocolate, my favorite! Is he awesome or what?? 

Now I should mention that my son JP is partly to thank for some of this new found chivalry of Dan’s.  That is because one year JP discovered that we had spent Valentines Day at , (God forbid), Shari’s Restaurant!! We had tried to go someplace romantic.  But sadly we discovered that you need to  make a reservation to get into those fancy joints on Valentines Day. None the less, JP never lets Dan forget that he truly missed the boat that year.  So now, Dan has kicked it up a few notches, and JP could probably learn a thing or two from his ole step dad.

I spent most of the day in bed.  And when it came time for dinner, I just didn’t feel much like eating a steak.  “Please just make me a bowl of soup”, I begged.  And he did. In fact, he has doted on me, and served me, and tucked me in, and cleaned up the house, and even done some grocery shopping while I’ve been trying to re-cover.  On Monday I felt so weakened and worn out from all the coughing and the constriction in my lungs, that Dan urged me to see a doctor.  Yes, he made the appointment for me.  He drove me there, taking half day of work off to do so.  (Should I tell em how much you hate in-service days, Dan?) He even picked up my prescriptions and purchased a humidifier for the room so I could breathe better. Dan knows I am really, REALLY  sick when I have no snappy comebacks, no sass in me, and he can’t do anything to annoy me cause I’m so out of it. This man has spent the past 5 days romancing me like no 5 star hotel could ever do.  And what does he get for it?

Well, this morning when I woke up, I was feeling a little stronger. My Beloved came to me and tried to start a cheerful conversation and poof….the quills came out!  He laughed.  He knew I was on the mend cause  I was back to acting like my old self.  Now really, who in the world besides Dan, could put up with a brat like me?