On Saturday the plan was to go picking around 10am. I've been looking forward to picking huckleberries since I moved here almost 3 years ago and hadn't been once. So imagine my disappointment when we woke to pouring rain. I got the phone call that our plans were cancelled and we would reschedule for the next day. I was bummed, but decided to make the most of it by reading in the bathtub ("The Secret Keeper" by Kate Morton. I finished it. Yay!) But soon got another call saying the plans were back on, the rain had stopped. So in a rush, I threw together my supplies, hopped in the car and drove out to meet my friends. We loaded into a truck and went down a logging road until we spied a new road in a clearcut and decided to try our luck down there. We pulled over and got suited up. I put on my rain pants (the bushes are still really wet) and a mesh bug shirt that covers my head as well. I know I looked so cool. My sister, who raves about the fashion sin of Gortex, would have disowned me if she had seen me. But there is no one but bears and hawks out in the bush to see you and function comes before fashion in my mind. With pails in hand, we fanned out from the truck and picked our way through the fallen logs and underbrush of the clearcut until we reached the tree line. That's where the huckleberries start to grow.