In the Midst of a Winter Day…Huckleberry Picking

By Carol Woolum Roberts

I spend time researching and writing about the history of the Silver Valley, both for a novel I am writing, and an elementary school production Paul and I are developing.

Last summer I went huckleberry picking. Sitting in the field picking huckleberries, I captured the moment by recording observations on my phone.

Huckleberries were used to create the color of the ceiling in the Cataldo Mission. Picking the huckleberries, my mind started wandering to the people who picked the berries to use for the coloring of the ceiling.  My thoughts focused on a young girl.

Arriving home, I listened to the recording and wrote this scene.

Huckleberry Picking

I have noticed the mornings growing cooler this week as I take my basket to the hillside to pick huckleberries. I love this quiet time to pick berries and listen to the sounds of the earth sing.

Down below I hear the creek.  It sounds like wind rushing through the trees.

Birds sing their morning song as they flit from tree to tree, welcoming the day.

The berries have come on late this year due to a cool and rainy spring.  This is the first morning the bushes are full of large, ripe berries.  My grandmother taught me each summer how to carefully pull the berry from the bush, trying not to have the stem attached.  I am finally old enough to go out on my own this year to pick berries.  I love this morning alone time.

My hands start turning purple as I continue to rhythmically pull each purple berry from the bush. I turn each stem over to see if there are more berries on the other side.  The leaves on the bushes start having dark spots on them, and they often look like berries.  When you get closer, you realize they are not large berries, just spots on the leaves.

Our people have a special task to complete with the huckleberries this year.  We are helping the men build.  Inside they want to use the huckleberries to help color the ceiling.  More berries than usual are needed this year.  Boys and girls as young as 10, on up to men and women elders are helping pick the berries this year. 

My mind wanders as I sit and pick the berries.  I think about The Creator and all the things on earth that are part of creation and how beautiful they all are to me and my people.

Since I was small and started coming to the woods, my grandmother taught me how to listen.  First, she would teach me the sounds of the air.  This included the birds flying from one tree to another, singing their song.  I could also hear the running water in the creek bed.  The wind whispers through the trees, as it tells one of its final summer tales.

There is another sound to listen for that is deeper and more meaningful.  That is the sound of the earth.  Sitting quietly and picking huckleberries gives me time to listen to what the earth is saying.  If I listen closely, I can hear the roots of the trees underneath me spreading throughout the earth, under the soil.

Different insects crawl beneath me.  Their sound reminds me of when my family travels to our summer camp, and we put up the tee pees, everyone working together in harmony to set up camp.  I get the same sound from the insects, as they crawl about in harmony, working to move food, or eat leaves, or burrow in the ground to make a home.

I am often surprised by a sound or a movement.  As I sit quietly, picking berries, a mama bear and her cubs slowly stroll by.  I remain still until the danger has passed.

I start hearing a rumbling sound, and the ground begins to shake. It is not uncommon for a herd of elk to run through the meadow where I sit.

The only time I get frightened is when I feel I am being watched.  This usually means the large cougar cat is keeping an eye on me as I work.  This makes me feel uneasy.  Once the cougar arrives, I gather my things, make a lot of noise, and head for home.

--Carol Woolum Roberts

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What is one of your favorite summer memories?

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