Finding adventure in little things
-- by David Leonhardt
We recently planted our saskatoon berry trees. I am sure those
of you who live in Saskatchewan know exactly what I am talking
about. For the 99.99999% of Internet readers who have never even heard of Saskatchewan, let alone of saskatoon berries, allow me to explain.
Saskatoon is the name of one of the two big cities in
Saskatchewan. In this case, "big" is a relative word. But
Saskatoon is big enough to have a food named after it, which
puts it in the same league as Hamburg (hamburgers), France
(French fries) and Iceland (ice).
Saskatchewan is a small Canadian province. Small in that its
population can comfortably fit onto the deck of a luxury cruise
liner ... except who would want to do that in the middle of the
bone-dry Canadian prairies? In land area, Saskatchewan is
actually almost as big as Texas, although most of their hats are
well short of ten-gallons.
That leaves plenty of room for trees to grow. But Saskatchewan
is not known for trees. It is known for its prairies. In fact,
there are jokes about Saskatchewan and trees.
"How many people does it take to plant a tree in Saskatchewan?"
"Are you kidding? Even God couldn't do that?"
"What do you call a tree in Saskatchewan?" "Wishful thinking."
"If you run off the road in northern Saskatchewan, would you hit
a tree?" "No, the tree is in the south."
Which brings us to the saskatoon berry trees we just planted.
Apparently, trees DO grow in Saskatchewan. Well, almost. I read
the seed package. "Grows three to 12 feet high." A three-foot
tall tree? Can you really call that a tree? What if I mow right
So before even planting them, the saskatoon berry trees were
proving to be an adventure. We were planting seeds for a tree
too small to be a tree from a place that supposedly does not
grow trees. But adventure is fun.
The package instructions said to plant the seeds while it is
still cold outside - when your fingers can become good and numb. We put on our parkas and rounded up our dogsleds and stepped out from our igloo. OK, it was not quite that cold.
The instructions said to plant the seeds about the depth of
one-to-two times the length of the seed. I measured the seed.
Actually, the seed was too small to measure. Just a touch larger than a celery seed. The package must have erred. According to my measurements, I would burry the seeds with even a couple grains of sand on top.
I did my best.
Little Lady, our always-eager-to-be-helpful toddler, placed the
markers to remind us where we planted the seeds. We used short
sticks with plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on top. These were,
in fact, made for sticking in the snow to line the driveway at
Christmastime, but they seemed fitting markers for such bizarre
The phone rang that evening. "Did you plant something really
strange today?" our neighbor asked. "You have stars on sticks
poking out of the ground. And they are glowing in the dark. Did
you buy the seeds near the nuclear power plant?"
We explained that the glow-in-the dark sticks were just to mark
where we planted our saskatoon berry trees. "Ooh, what do
saskatoon berries taste like?" She asked. I had no idea. I had
tasted them in jam many years ago on a business trip to
Saskatchewan, but I do not even remember if I liked them. The
seeds were actually a gift from a friend.
But life is an adventure, and three years from now I can tell
you what the berries taste like. Can't you just taste a good
About the author:
David Leonhardt is the Happy Guy, author of "Climb your Stairway
to Heaven: the 9 habits of maximum happiness". Sign up for your
free "Daily Dose of Happiness" at
http://TheHappyGuy.com/daily-happiness-free-ezine.html, or visit
him at http://TheHappyGuy.com.