In the forest

We set off to the national park,
The Sun was high,
The car was full.
M was reading how Herra Hakkarainen brushes teeth,
And from time to time observing other cars trough the window.

We parked and walked down the road,
To the wooden bridge,
And the thick forest opened.
Under the bridge,
Sea water that run trough the narrow channel,
On the other side of the bridge,
A tree next to a tree,
Moss, blueberry bushes and no chanterelles.

We dove in into the blueberry bushes,
Surrounded by sea on both sides.
M was hopping around,
And from time to time came close to us,
To demonstrate the blueberry quality control method,
Also known as: reverse blueberry picking.

After we joined blueberries from two half-filled butter containers,
And closed the lid firmly,
We sat on a rock,
On the edge of the forest,
At the shore,
To eat sandwiches and drink water.

Not more then a minute after that,
Grandma walked away into an unknown direction,
Searching for chanterelles that were not there,
Allowing more and more trees to hide her from us.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that she was lost,
As she found her way back,
Although a moment of anxiety did occur,
While in my mind I was answering the question:
How to find a person in the forest,
Without a phone,
Wearing a black jacket.

Back at home,
We sampled the blueberries,
Offered M a generous portion,
Put the current date on a container,
And froze it.

In our lungs,
A fragrant smell of moss and trees,
In our minds,
Remained for a while.

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