The Rural Voice, 1998-06, Page 16YOUR ONE STOP FOR
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12 THE RURAL VOICE
Guest Column
In praise of
berry -picking
By Charlene Daley
My father always said, "The Lord
helps those who help themselves",
that "Nothing is free" and that "We
must work for everything we get"
and to "Waste not, want not" The
old cliches definitely have a
ring of truth.
I sometimes wonder if
they had anything to do with
my obsession for picking
wild berries. Our Heavenly
Father does provide an
abundance of berries and we
should not waste such a gift.
They are not free, so to
speak — we certainly have
to work to enjoy their
bounty.
On mornings when
berries are at their peak, I
crawl from my bed and, as swiftly as
my creaking body allows, I carry out
my usual chores. Then I'm off on my
four-wheel, all -terrain vehicle to pick
berries, whatever kind happen to be
in season. I have always thrived,
even as a child, on this type of
activity. It is marvellous therapy both
physically and mentally.
Physically, I am quite
handicapped with arthritis and my
bending and stretching is done with
considerable effort. But because of
my passion for picking berries, I put
my frame through a more rigorous
workout with much less effort than
with any other form of work or play.
It does me a world of good and I
move with more case at the end of
the season.
Mentally, I can become anyone or
do almost anything imaginable when
I'm in the berry patch. Here I have
the monetary necessities to travel far
and wide to places only available in
these dreams, or I am able to hire the
necessary household help so that I
can write best-selling novels with
great ease.
I can be a child again and run and
skip and play. Once again my aging
frame is supple and I can effortlessly
hang suspended, upside-down, from
the bough of an apple tree. Or my
late father is beside me nurturing my
being with his familiar tender love
and encouragement. Life is simple,
pain docs not exist, responsibilities
are so remote that I am sure this is
what heaven is all about. In my
imagination, nothing is impossible!
Mother nature is a marvellous of
escapism as I listen to the whir of
hummingbirds' wings, the urgent call
of the crows, the screech of
bluejays as they send out
messages to friends and
siblings. Then there is the
soft coo of mourning doves,
the sweet and gentle call of
the chickadee, the chirp of
crickets and the snapping of
grasshoppers. If the sun is
too warm or mosquitoes
multitudinous, I am
oblivious to such nuisances.
I thoroughly enjoy the
solitude. It is a marvellous
time to communicate with
In the berry
patch, all
things are
possible. Age
disappears.
Money
doesn't
matter
my Heavenly Father. 1t is at this
point that life is peaceful and I am
feeling most thankful and I do not
notice I have descended to the
bottom of an incline until I have to
heave my body back onto my feet,
now tangled among weeds and
crushed bushes. Back on level
footing, I find ripe jelly berries
waiting to be picked and once again
I'm back in my imaginary world.
Later, as the world of reality
surfaces, I contemplate my plastic
pail. I have enough for four pies but
my container is not full. I continue to
pick until I have a dish for each
family member to enjoy with cream
and sugar and the homemade bread I
am now baking in my bread machine
at home.
My watch says I have at least
another 45 minutes before I have to
start preparing dinner — and I do
have another empty container. It's
back to the bushes to gather more of
the tasty, juicy morsels. The jelly will
taste so good on my breakfast toast
next winter and in my recipe for
thimble cookies. Can life get any
better?
With containers filled to
overflowing, I head home 10 minute
later than I intended, but why leave
when I still have room for another