Chapter 6: Berry Hunting and Library Visit
I wake to another clear morning, though not quite as pristine as yesterday's perfect weather. A few wispy clouds drift across the sky, but nothing threatening. The memory of yesterday's family picnic still feels warm and satisfying as I head downstairs for breakfast.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Mom greets me with a smile as I settle at the kitchen table. "You were certainly tired last night."
"It was a good day," I agree, pouring cereal into my bowl. "Thanks for setting up the picnic with the Hendersons."
"My pleasure. Lira's been suggesting we do something together for weeks." Mom pauses in her morning kitchen routine. "Speaking of things we've been meaning to do - didn't you finish that library book?"
The bird identification guide. I'd completely forgotten about it in the excitement of the past few days.
"Yeah, I finished it two nights ago. Should I return it today?"
"We should, before you accumulate late fees," Mom says. "I need to run some errands in town this afternoon anyway. We can swing by the library around two o'clock."
That gives us the morning for exploration, but not enough time for one of our deeper forest expeditions. I'm mulling over alternatives when the familiar sound of Patani's arrival reaches us from the front porch - a combination of quick footsteps and what sounds like humming.
"That's Patani," I tell Mom unnecessarily, heading to let her in.
She bounces through the door with her usual energy, though I notice she's carrying a small wicker basket.
"Good morning, Mrs. Mellent!" she calls toward the kitchen before turning to me with excitement. "I brought this from home because Mom said there might be wild strawberries starting to ripen, and we should go look for them!"
Berry hunting. That's actually perfect for a shorter adventure.
"Wild strawberries?" I ask. "Where did your mom hear about them?"
"She was talking to Mrs. Patterson from down the street, and Mrs. Patterson said she found some near the creek area last week. The sunny spots where the forest opens up."
That makes sense, I think. Strawberries need more light than the deep forest provides.
"That sounds like a great plan," I tell her. "We only have until early afternoon anyway - I need to return a library book."
Mom appears in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Berry hunting sounds lovely. Just be careful about what you eat, and don't wander too far from the paths you know."
"We will," I promise. "Dad mentioned something about wild berries before. Are there any we should definitely avoid?"
"Your father would know better than I would," Mom admits. "But the general rule is stick to berries you can positively identify. When in doubt, don't eat it."
Sound advice. I grab my usual exploration supplies - notebook, pencil, small compass - while Patani waits with barely contained enthusiasm.
"Ready?" she asks the moment I appear with my things.
"Ready."
The morning air carries a different quality than yesterday's crisp perfection. Still pleasant, but with a slight humidity that suggests afternoon clouds might develop. Perfect berry-hunting weather, though - not too hot, with enough moisture in the air to keep plants happy.
We head toward the forest along our familiar route, but instead of taking the paths that lead deeper into the woods, we veer toward areas where the tree canopy opens up. Patani's information about sunny spots makes perfect sense - berries need more direct sunlight than most forest plants.
"There!" Patani exclaims after about fifteen minutes of walking, pointing toward a small clearing where morning sunlight streams through the trees. "That looks like the kind of place Mrs. Patterson described."
She's right. The area has the perfect combination of partial shade and sunny patches, with rich soil and enough moisture from nearby trees. We approach carefully, scanning the ground-level vegetation.
"Oh, here's some!" Patani drops to her knees near a cluster of low-growing plants with the characteristic three-leaflet pattern. "Look, tiny white flowers and... are those berries?"
I crouch beside her to examine the plants. Small white flowers, serrated leaves in groups of three, and yes - tiny green berries with a few that show hints of red.
"Those are definitely wild strawberries," I confirm. "But most of them aren't ripe yet. See how they're still mostly green and white? We want the ones that are completely red."
"Like this one?" She points to a single berry that's achieved full ripeness.
"Exactly like that one."
Patani carefully picks the berry and holds it up to examine it. It's much smaller than the store-bought strawberries we're used to, probably only about the size of my thumbnail, but the color is perfect.
She pops it in her mouth and her face immediately lights up. "Oh! It's so much sweeter than regular strawberries! And the flavor is... stronger somehow."
"Wild berries are usually more concentrated," I explain, settling into a comfortable crouch to continue searching. "They don't get as much water as cultivated ones, so the sugars are more intense."
We spend the next twenty minutes methodically working through the clearing, finding perhaps a dozen truly ripe berries among the many plants. It's slow work, but oddly satisfying. There's something meditative about the careful search, the gentle picking, the immediate reward of tasting our discoveries.
"This is like treasure hunting," Patani observes, "except the treasure is delicious."
"Better than regular treasure hunting," I agree. "You can eat your findings."
She giggles at that, then immediately refocuses on a particularly promising cluster of plants near a fallen log.
"Gatreh, look at this patch! There's so many berries here!"
She's found what appears to be the clearing's premium berry location - a sunny spot with rich soil where the plants are more mature and have produced more fruit. We work together to harvest the ripe ones, leaving the unripe berries to mature for future foragers.
"Should we try to find other clearings?" Patani asks after we've thoroughly explored our first location.
I check my mental map of the local area. "There's another sunny spot about ten minutes that way," I point northeast. "Near where that old fence line runs through the forest."
"Let's go!"
The second location proves even more productive. Here, wild strawberry plants compete with blackberry bushes that are just beginning to show their early summer growth. The blackberries won't be ripe for weeks yet, but the strawberry plants seem to thrive in the mixed environment.
We work our way through the second clearing with the same methodical approach, though Patani's enthusiasm occasionally leads to her trying to harvest berries that aren't quite ready yet.
"This one's not quite ripe yet," I mention, watching her reach for a berry that's still showing white patches.
"But it's mostly red!"
"Trust me, wait another few days and it'll be much better."
She reluctantly leaves the almost-ripe berry on its plant, but I can tell she's fighting the urge to harvest everything that looks even remotely ready.
By the time we've explored both clearings thoroughly, Patani's basket contains what looks like a respectable collection of wild strawberries - maybe two cups' worth, though they're so small it's hard to estimate accurately.
"Mom's going to be so excited," Patani says, examining our haul with satisfaction. "She loves cooking with fresh berries."
"My mom will probably want to see them too, She always likes to work with fresh ingredients."
The walk back passes quickly, with Patani chattering about possible uses for our strawberry collection and me thinking about the practical aspects of foraging. It's a skill set I hadn't really considered before, but it makes sense to develop some knowledge about edible wild plants. Not for survival reasons - we're not exactly living in wilderness conditions - but as a way to better understand and interact with the local environment.
We arrive home to find Mom preparing lunch, and she immediately shows interest in our morning's work.
"Seems your little expedition went well." she notes with a smile as she's looking over the contents of Patani's basket. "They look great too! Did your mom mention how much she needed?"
"No she didn't," Patani denies. "She just told me to gather what I could!"
"Do you think she would mind if I take some so I can use it for baking?"
"Baking?" I said, "Do you have anything specific in mind?"
"Yeah I was thinking of making a small batch of jam and bake some cookies with it." Mom replies, "So what do you think Patani?"
Patani shifts a little back and forth as if considering and eventually exclaims "You can have half Ms. Mellent!"
"Why thanks Patani" Mom says as she pats Patani a bit on the head. Which she seems to appreciate. As mom starts measuring out half of the wild strawberries she declares "Well, you two have definitely earned lunch after all that foraging, and then we'll need to get ready for our library trip."
Lunch conversation revolves around our berry hunting success, with Mom asking thoughtful questions about the locations we found and the condition of the plants. She makes several observations about seasonal timing and plant identification that show she knows more about wild edibles than I'd expect based on what she said earlier this morning.
"Your father actually used to do quite a bit of foraging when he was younger," she mentions as we finish eating. "Before we met, he spent a summer working on a farm up north and learned about all sorts of wild plants. Maybe we should ask him about other things to look for."
Another piece of family history I hadn't known about. Dad continues to surprise me with unexpected knowledge and experiences.
"We did find some blackberries near the strawberries we could gather in a couple weeks" I mention to the delight of mom and Patani. Mom's likely for the applications in cooking while for Patani it's probably that she gets to eat more sweets huh.
After lunch, Mom gathers her purse and car keys while I retrieve the library book from my room. The bird identification guide has been genuinely useful - I've already applied some of its information during our forest explorations - but I'm ready to move on to other topics.
"Ready for town?" Mom asks as we settle into the car.
"Ready."
"I'll head back home then!" Patani exclaims as she bounces away on the driveway.
The drive into Oakhaven's center takes about fifteen minutes from our house, following roads that transition from residential to commercial as we approach the town core. I watch the familiar scenery roll past - houses giving way to businesses, more traffic, the subtle shift in atmosphere that marks the boundary between suburb and downtown.
The library sits in a solid brick building that dates back at least hundred years, with wide steps leading up to glass doors and the kind of architectural dignity that public buildings used to possess. I've been here many times, but usually with a specific purpose in mind. Today feels more relaxed, like we're visiting rather than just completing an errand.
"I need to check on a few things while we're here," Mom mentions as we climb the library steps. "Take your time looking around if you want to find something new to read."
The library's interior maintains that particular quiet atmosphere that seems unique to libraries - not exactly silence, but a soft hush that makes normal conversation feel intrusive. I approach the return desk to hand over the bird guide, then browse the nearby shelves while Mom disappears toward the reference section.