Today, River and I took our first real walk together.  Just father and son.

Elie’s been a bit under the weather—add that to a great lack of sleep and these last few days have been a dizzying whirlwind of to-do lists and just-getting-by-ism.  So while Elie was taking a well deserved nap between feedings I put River in the sling and headed out the back door.

We swung through the yard and out the back gate, and in about eight minutes we were walking in the dappled darkness of a wooded ravine.

The trail dips steeply along a creek that’s pretty much a trickle at this point in the year. It’s lush with young maple, salal, Oregon grape, blackberries and the massive remainders of a few old growth cedar and hemlock. I walked slowly, marveled at the light, the intense greens, the silence, and suddenly, at Salmonberries.  They were everywhere.

I must credit Elie for their first discovery about a week ago, though her find somehow escaped me. Until now.

The berries come in two colors, hanging from tall sparse bushes like tangerine and merlot lanterns lit by the sun. Walking with River, I sampled a few fruits—tart and tangy. And, I decided a few hours later, perfect for jam.

So, with my chores in order for the moment, and Elie content with River in her arms, I took off for the wooded ravine a second time today. It hardly took an hour for me to pick about a dozen cups of berries—nearly enough for two batches of jam.

I can hardly say how nice that hour was. Just me. Walking a wooded trail and then off the trail and along a shallow creek bed. Picking berries and smiling with the simple purpose at hand.

Tomorrow comes the jam.