HUCKLEBERRY BOOK CLUB

I'm fortunate to spend part of the year living in a forest in the mountains along with deer that love the flowers they think I plant for them; bears that leave teeth and claw holes in the bear-proof bin they've so far failed to rip to shreds; raccoons that love to raid the hummingbird feeders at night; coyotes the size of small wolves that prowl through the yard; chipmunks that peer at me from the planter barrels while cheekily devouring the petunias; ground squirrels that churn up the lawn with tunnels; mountain lions and wolf packs that stay out of sight, eagles that soar; crows that get on their way when I yell at them because I don't like them raiding other birds' nests; Steller's jays and other bird flocks that stop for a while on their way north and south.

Our closest neighbors are also our good friends. I was thrilled when Kathy introduced me to huckleberry picking. Kathy is so good at finding huckleberry patches that I dubbed her the "Huckleberry Queen." Since huckleberry crops are not always prolific—depends on the rain and sun—pickers protect their find, even hiding on the forest floor when a vehicle goes by. My husband and I found our mother lode one Sunday afternoon in July but it took going back the next day with a ladder to get to it.

After several hours of sitting in the dirt picking we had barely enough huckleberries to make three batches of muffins. But that's how it goes. Huckleberry picking has an addictive nature to it. Perhaps because you become part of nature when you sit to pick. Strange as it may seem, it never feels you've wasted time. It's cleansing for the spirit to come out of it covered in dirt, sweat and flies, and a few cups of berries.

Our small mountain town has many bookclubs. I recently joined the Huckleberry Book Club—aptly named I thought—and am richer for it. I love the discussions and the lively conversations that come out of our meetings. Unfortunately my husband and I will soon be migrating south right along with the birds and I'll miss the people I've rapidly got to feel a kinship with because of our discussions. But when the birds return, so will we.

Our book club supports the local bookstore, The Barn Owl—also a great name—both of which support authors. I love to hold a book in my hand and read other writers' expressions of our art. I also appreciate someone else choosing my reading list.

Here's to bookclubs, bookstores, community and books I wouldn't have read if not for the Huckleberry Book Club!

White Houses - Amy Bloom
Great Alone - Kristin Hannah
Origin - Dan Brown
A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry - edited by Czeslaw Milosz