Keweenaw Sweetness

July 17, 2017, by Kristin Neva

Sara Neva in Finnish Dance Costume

The Strawberry Festival is over, but fortunately the Keweenaw is still producing the little red berries. It’s some solace in a summer that’s slow in coming.

In Snow Country, Beth found hope in Pastor Chip’s words. “It’s going to take a long time for two-hundred inches of snow to melt, but it will melt and saturate the soil to give life to strawberries, thimbleberries, and blueberries.”

To the extent that Snow Country featured snow, Copper Country features berries. Keweenaw winters are marked by fall flurries, nearly daily snows in January, and spring blizzards. But our summers are marked by seasonal berries.

Early in the second book, Russ and Aimee visit Big Traverse Bay, where “low bushes with tiny white flowers, the genesis of blueberries, covered sand dunes.” And the “only shade came from a few Saskatoon trees, which would produce wild sugarplums in August.”

A few weeks later, Russ works for a lady where “trees encroached on the house, filling what was probably once a strawberry farm.”

Many of the old farms have been left fallow, as grocery stores prefer the almost tasteless strawberries genetically engineered to stay “fresh” for weeks during transport. But in the Keweenaw, we can still find berries that are half the size and twice the flavor sold by kids with roadside stands.

Later in Copper Country, Aimee and Russ are back at Big Traverse with Louisa picking berries, and the Heikki Lunta is serving fresh berry sauce on pannukakku.

There’s something genuine and earthy about a place scheduled by the seasons. Students, snowbirds, and tourists come and go, filling planes and cars in both directions. Businesses bustle or slow for their respective seasons.

I was bike riding with my kids when I spotted wild strawberry plants along our country road. I stopped and, searching for berries, found only a few for us to sample. They were small, but oh, so sweet.

With our cool weather, the berries are fewer and smaller, reminding us of how fragile and fleeting summer is. But we don’t despair. We celebrate all the more, savoring their sweetness because we know winter looms.

It reminds me of life as I reflect on living with my husband’s ALS. Life for the last seven years has been like a long winter, but we still have our good days. We’ll occasionally run to the Fitz in Eagle River for ribs. We’ll “stay-cation” for a week with daily visits to the Houghton County Fair. And we’ll celebrate and savor the Keweenaw’s strawberries, thimbleberries, and blueberries.