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Kids of all ages love treasure hunts and I am not the exception that proves this rule. I love them, too.
Hunts for treasure can be orchestrated. Such was the case on one of my significant teen birthdays – my 18th, I think (finding my memory is a bit of a treasure hunt).
On my birthday, my friends showed up at our house in costumes – some witty, some questionable, which well sums up my friends – with a handful of envelopes. Each envelope represented a present, with the exact money for it and a card with clues as to where it was and what it was. After donning my trenchcoat and press hat – my costume ever at the ready – we advanced on Miller Hill Mall for a rollicking adventure (and a mild tongue-clucking from the mall security guard).
That was a great day, but my favorite hunting run together over a childhood of many days spent searching for treasure left out by nature.
My favorite natural riches were wild strawberries and agates.
In summer, rock hunting usually meant Sunday afternoons in a gravel pit. As a heavy equipment mechanic, my dad knew the good agate sites and also had permission to browse. Dangerous equipment and liability concerns make gravel pits off-limits today, but Lake Superior shores remain pleasant hunting grounds.
During one hunt, my mom found a special agate that I have to this day. It has a perfect “80” in its interior bands – a message that we have yet to decipher. I keep that agate in a pouch; the other treasures I’ve gathered in a glass jar.
Agates can be found suddenly, but most good berry patches are found in advance and tracked to harvest, like the wild strawberry field up the road from our house. The neighbor girls and I spent at least one day each summer harvesting there with our neighborhood grandmother. The miracle of Grandma getting enough tiny berries to make jams amazes me to this day. After all, besides the sheer number of the diminutive fruits needed, Grandma’s harvest crew consisted of a gaggle of girls working on the three-in-the-mouth, one-in-the-bucket theory of gathering.
Let me tell you, though, wild strawberries taste like nothing else.
These days I don’t even have to go up the road. Thanks to a lawn gone wild, a large portion of our side yard first blossoms with small white flowers and then produces little red berries. This prolific natural crop may well have sprouted from the tipped berry buckets of my childhood.
I was reminded of childhood berry picking by the story in the June/July 2011 issue on the types and times of the season to find wild berries around western Lake Superior. Personally, I don’t trust my abilities beyond wild strawberries and raspberries, but Kriss Osbakken has many more options for her harvest basket to reveal.
Our Recipe Box columnist, Juli Kellner, reminds us of a more domesticated treasure – rhubarb. Not quite as insidiously plentiful as zucchini, it has just as many uses and is a hardy lover of our climate. Juli shares a number of recipes. As she explains, another plus for rhubarb – thanks to misclassification – is that you can claim to be eating your “fruits and vegetables” with just that one tasty bit of backyard produce.
As frequently happens, I discovered plenty of gems to hunt within the stories in this issue. The farm community of the Slate River Valley is definitely a treasure chest of flavors and activities. Elle Andra-Warner introduces us to the valley and some residents.
Our photo feature on Lake Superior beaches not only shows some great gems to visit, it reveals our variety of shore riches – rock, cobblestone or sand.
Of course, one of our greatest treasures is our Great Lake and I would be remiss if I did not direct you to remember that this year Lake Superior Day is July 17. Celebrate your favorite lake with some of your favorite people.
After all, those berries eaten and agates gathered – saved or lost over time – are only part of the bounty. The time spent with Mom, Dad, Grandma, friends and neighbors count as valued treasure, too.