Yesterday, we loaded up the children and set off on an adventure.
The astute reader might notice that the boys each have sticks. These were their treasured “drumsticks.” And, yes. They were as annoying as you might have guessed.
We were off to find the elusive, and highly valued, huckleberry.
Oh! Are you new here? Do you not know about the magical powers of “The Purple Gold?” Well, then. Allow me to enlighten.
Huckleberries are prized possessions around these here parts. Crazies from all around live for this season and go traipsing about the woods, fighting bear and bird alike, to try and harvest these delightful berries.
Herein lies the problems:
1) They only grow high, high, high up in the mountains.
2) They are the world’s tiniest berries. True, I have no facts to support that statement, but it works out well for me in this post to tell you that they are, so just go with it.
3) You might pick for one hour and get one cup. Then your 4 year old wants to come show you the ONE berry he found and trips down the hill and knocks over your bucket. Not that I know from experience.
People from our regions get all crazy-like when it comes to this berry. Once they find their own huckleberry “sweet spot,” they never, EVER, share the treasured location with anyone else.
Ever.
Huckleberry Harvesting. Vicious and cutthroat.
Who knew?!
So. Yesterday we set off with great hopes to find our own “sweet spot.” We took three wrong turns and were severely scolded by man with no less than 55 dogs and a handlebar mustache for driving on “bleepity-bleep” private property.
Oops.
Finally, David found the right road that would take us up the mountain. Up, up, up we drove for miles upon miles. We saw what we thought was hucklberry brush and got out to check out the sitch.
We found green berries.
This was not good.
We must get back in the car.
Sweet Pea, full of pre-pre-teenage angst, sat in the car, unimpressed with our adventure.
Check out the dirty back window.
Classy.
David was getting pretty discouraged when we could not find the Berry of all Berries. You see, dear readers, David lives for the Huckleberry. Personally, if I never went huckleberry picking again, I would not shed a tear. But this is the equivalent to Disneyland for him.
Why? I cannot be certain.
But he is my beloved and I shall be his helpmeet.
After about four false alarms, we were ready to just about give up. He was driving up a logging road when I saw a flash of purple.
I don’t think he believed me, but he put ye olde minivan, a fine rig for maneuvering up logging roads, in reverse and humored me.
And, guess what.
Bam!
I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, was the esteemed huckleberry finder of the day.
We picked and picked and picked with sweat on our brow and the sun on our backs. We picked for an hour and half and we got . . . wait for it . . . . wait for it . . . .
13 cups.
This is where you clap.
We were hot, dirty, and tired. So, we loaded up and hit the lake!
This beach has a diving board. All four of the kids had a blast jumping off of it. Even the little boys! The beach had a life jacket station, so they were able to jump off and swim back to the ladder to go again.
Sweet Pea
Daisy Mae, always the trickster, tried to push her dad into the water, but he took her down with him.
Handsome Dude, waving to his mother.
Little Dude, jumping off the diving board.
The water felt so good after picking those dreadful wonderful berries. I went swimming and raced the girls. I will have you know that I kicked their hineys.
After we swam, we stopped for ice cream. Shocking, I know. Then we went blackberry picking! The blackberries were not quite ready yet, but we still found about 8 cups.
It was a fun-filled day.
And today, I am going to be busy freezing the huckleberries. And sit in the freezer they shall, for we can never find an occasion worthy enough to actually eat them.
They are more precious than fine rubies.
We are annoying like that over huckleberries. My brother-in-law (who is an actual lumberjack) scouts out the best spots and tells us if there’s even going to be a huckleberry season (last year there weren’t any!) and then we load up and head out for a day of picking. Which is nearly always disappointing. I’m terrified of grizzlies, so I talk really loudly the whole time so they know exactly where to find me (maybe that’s not the best strategy?) My sister brings a gun but I really don’t trust her to actually be able to save our lives in the event of a grizzly attack.
And my mother is a huckleberry jinx. Every time she comes with us, the car breaks down and we get nothing. But we love her too much to leave her home. She raised us to be more polite than that!
We’re going tomorrow. Wish me luck?
you need huckleberry hound to sniff out said berries for you! (i always think of him when you talk about huckleberries =o)
“People from our regions get all crazy-like when it comes to this berry. Once they find their own huckleberry “sweet spot,” they never, EVER, share the treasured location with anyone else.
Ever.
Huckleberry Harvesting. Viscous and cutthroat.”
Just like morel mushroom hunting in Iowa!
Hmmm, weird, I thought they looked like blueberries…
Maybe because we don’t have huckleberries in these here parts, which is weird because we seem to have the same climate as your parts… Must try to find some and see what all the hype is about!
Your family picture is beautiful!
So, where’d you go?
😉
By the way, I think you should channel your inner Val Kilmer at least once a day and remind David: “I’m your huckleberry.”
I’ve never eaten a huckleberry? Do they taste like any other sort of berry?
Oh, and Melissa K needs the COW. Just sayin’.
She has given the COW to someone I had suggested. It’s so fulfilling when she picks what you suggest.
We only pick the berries in our yard. It is to much of a pain to get out. You are indeed to be praised for going picking.
We only pick the berries in our yard. It is to much of a pain to get out. You are indeed to be praised for going picking.
I went blueberry picking with my in-laws once upon a time. It was hot, and the bugs were plenteous and I hated it. I think I must have complained enough because they’ve never asked me to go again.
I get my blueberries at the grocery store. Just sayin’.
What does a huckleberry taste like? Is it more raspberry than blueberry? Or more strawberry than cranberry? Are you going to make huckleberry jam? or huckleberry syrup to pour over your huckleberry pancakes? surely there is a huckleberry pie in there too.
Huckleberry lovers would probably punch me for saying this, but I think huckleberries taste like rotten blueberries… rotten or unripe. I’m not sure which is worse. The first one I tried, I spit out, because I thought it was bad. Then, I realized that’s how they all taste. It is beyond me why anyone picks them when there are multitudes of delicious blackberries growing everywhere. People suggest pouring sugar copious amounts of sugar on them… that’s how bad they taste. : P
Hey there,
I am a longtime reader, but this is my first comment:
Here in Germany there are several huckleberry bushes – Heidelbeeren or Moosbeeren – in just about every garden; we REALLY love them here.
Why don´t you plant some in your elusive garden? We have 2 bushes in ours and I already had enough for 8 glasses (?) of jam – 0,5l – and more than enough for my brood to munch on while playing on top.
Just a suggestion…
P.S. I really miss you using our great Umlaute… where is the über gone?
Nothing but the best to you and yours from Hannover!
Holla! I am impressed, a fan from Germany! 🙂
I agree, plant the little buggars in your own backyard, that would save you much travail. But you are an awesome helpmeet to sacrifice for your huckleberry huntin’ hubby.
PS: I think “viscous” and “vicious” are two different things. Unless you mean huckleberries have some sort of viscosity…which I don’t think you did mean.
my parents whenever they head out your way, they always come back with a grin on their face. And I know it’s because they bought us a gift. And that gift has to do with something huckleberry related!
Melissa and Sandy – hilarious comments. Do you even know who Huckleberry Hound is? I say anytime is good time for channeling Val Kilmer. You rock. The Helpmeet of all Helpmeets. Have you ever found a currant or gooseberry? I’ve only ever seen them at the Fair. Wondered if anyone ever finds and eats those thangs. Uh oh poor poor Jill. Don’t u know you cannot mention to crazies that huckleberries are blueberries? Just like you can’t tell folks there are actually prunes.
Do y’all know how to propagate plants? You can get plants for free by taking stem, or leaf or twig cuttings, putting them in a little root hormone powder and voila!
Love the hucks – and to everyone suggesting growing them in your own garden, one of the reasons we all go so crazy here is that they can’t be grown commercially!
They really are a distinctive taste – quite tart, but sugar fixes that. My favorite is on cheesecake or vanilla ice cream.
I personally do not understand the huckleberry frenzie! I’ve tried huckleberries; they aren’t very tasty. Also, everyone likes to infiltrate them in all things edible: pie, pudding, fudge, cake, candy, casseroles… ok only breakfast casseroles. But, I don’t like them. I say they are gross and that huckleberry fudge is bisgrusting. It’s a scam to get people all crazy for nothing. We all have to pretend the huckleberries are yummy and worth picking, when in all actuality they are not. I will not pick them or ruin good-tasting food with these berries that are a hassle and don’t live up to their fame. They are like the Idaho Spud candy blob. You must try it, but you’ll most likely spit it out. 😛
That first picture is my new favorite picture of the children
Teller, I just saw this on pinterest and immediately thought of your blessed huckleberries! http://zoebakes.com/2011/08/10/canning-fresh-blueberries-at-masala-farm-with-suvir-saran/
I must try some of these elusive huckleberries. Now that I’ve read everything from “they are gross” to “they are berries of gold”, I simply must know what all the fuss is about.