Broken Arrow Intrigue

Two nights ago Dad and Dave and I went for a nice dinner out at the Broken Arrow cafe. It is the only cafe in Gibbonsville. It is run by a plucky little lady named Rose Marie who is well known and liked by all the Gibbonsville folk. Rose Marie took a liking to the Iris in my Dad's front garden so he had brought a whole bagful he had dug up that morning.

We ordered a pitcher of marguaritas and were happily munching on Rose Marie's homemade flour tortilla chips when she came over to greet us and thank Dad for the Iris. 'I will plant them tomorrow on my day off', she said. 'Then I will go Huckleberry picking'. Oh! My Dad exclaimed, are they ripe already? 'Yes, they are, and big ones too' Rose Marie said with a slightly smug look on her face. 'Well, we will have to get out there', Dad said. 'I usually go up to Three Mile Creek'. 'I use them for my Huckleberry Cheese cake, and I make syrup to go with huckleberry pancakes. Rose Marie said without offering any information about where she picks huckleberries. 'Well, that's all good, but there is nothing like a huckleberry pie' said Dad, his hand to his chest in the classic pose indicating culinary rapture. 'This is a good year for them, Rose Marie said, nodding her head in a knowing way. I thought perhaps her sharing this tip was her way of thanking Dad for the Irises.

Later, when we had returned home after dinner, I commented to Dad that it was nice of him to tell where he picks berries, but did he notice Rose Marie had not told where she picks. He grinned slyly and said 'I don't pick them at Three Mile Creek, I go somewhere else.' 'I just thought she might tell her secret'. 'Sue Keating picks them by the gallon, she must have a secret spot, too - either that or she's a fast picker'. Oh the intrigue!