berried

That's me way down there...

I couldn't believe it. Here we were, an hour and a half hike from civilization and above tree line to pick low bush cranberries. Yet, as far as my hands could see, flourished fields of untouched blueberries. Once I comprehended the expanse of the berry bushes, restraint became impossible. Ruth and Lyn pressed up towards the low bush cranberries. I sank to my knees in tundra and bright, popping berries. In their eagerness, the small, sweet fruit pierced itself on my greedy fingers, staining them with happiness.

We had set out on our expedition at 10:00 that morning. When my friends finally wrenched my seduced fingers from their assault on the mountain berries and we returned to the car, it was 3:45 in the afternoon.

When I am berry picking, I want nothing else. I feel like I am doing the work God made me to do, and I am radiantly content.

You know what heaven will be? An inexhaustible field of berries where my desire and energy to pluck them will be both insatiably endless yet constantly complete.

***Thank you Ruth Doctor for the photos.