"When an Ojibway dies, his body is placed in a grave... facing the west... The soul is supposed to start immediately after death of the body, on a deep beaten path, which leads westward; the first object he comes to, in following this path, is the great Oda-e-min (Heart berry), or strawberry, which stands on the roadside like a huge rock, and from which he takes a handful and eats on his way... After camping out four nights, and travelling each day through a prairie country, the soul arrives in the land of spirits, where he finds his relatives accumulated since mankind was first created; all is rejoicing, singing and dancing; they live in a beautiful country interspersed with clear lakes and streams, forests and prairies, and abounding in fruit and game to repletion - in a word, abounding in all that the red man covets in this life..."
-William W. Warren
I have lived most of my life in the embrace of the Rocky Mountains. I remember seeing wild strawberry plants, pretty often, growing beside trails, but i always thought they didn't make fruit. Until one July day, a couple years ago.
A couple weekends ago, we went up to see if we could find a few, thinking that the season was probably over. We sat in the same carpet, looking, and it seemed as if we were too late. But before we had given up, we saw a tiny red gem peeking out from beneath a leaf! And then another one. And then another one! Fynn had the biggest smile i had ever seen on him as he became the strawberry messenger- delivering 'one for mama, one for papa, and one for fynn!' I rarely see him so happy!
-beth