wild rice

For several years now we’ve been joining friends for a weekend of harvesting wild rice in the north,(Well, except for those couple of years when Andy wasn’t up for it.  That stays fresh in our minds and made the trip and time all the more beautiful this year). 

Generally the ladies stay behind and tend camp and rice.  That means cooking, collecting firewood, tending the children and turning the rice for drying.  The guys head out on the water for the long, hot labor of knocking rice into the boat for hours and hours.  Usually I’m not much for “typical gender roles” such as these, but somehow knowing that this is how it’s been done for thousands of years (or more) makes it feel a little bit magical.  It certainly takes a village, and the role the women played in gathering rice was not little.  Keeping the fire, the village fed, and the rice drying was just as important (and sometimes difficult) as harvesting the rice itself.  In today’s world it feels good to step back, take that role, and feel part of this community effort.  And as a bonus we’ll enjoy pounds and pounds of beautiful wild rice all winter long.

Ricing season solidly signals the end of summer.  We return home to crisp cold weather, loads of tomatoes to process and the start of a new year of (home) school.  Blessings on the fall.