Three freezers, one berry car: “In the forest, I am part of the chain of my Ugric foremothers”

The writer Minna Rytisalo’s best and busiest weeks of the year begin in summer and continue well into fall. She starts on cloudberry bogs; next come raspberries and blueberries. The season continues with lingonberries, and in the fall, Minna still picks frosty cranberries with chilled fingers. She believes her collecting instinct is in her genes, but she hasn’t matched her parents’ record for the number of freezers.

Minna, how does your passion show up in your daily life?

We’ve sometimes been on a summer trip around mid-July, but I’ve had to hurry home once the bog treasures start to ripen. From that point onward, my weeks are devoted to berry picking, and there’s no place I’d rather be during this prime time of year.

Last winter, I slipped and injured my shoulder. My first thought was whether it would heal before berry season.

When I was still working at a school, I couldn’t dedicate August to berry picking. Once I became a writer, my first three books were published in spring, which let me spend plenty of time gathering berries. My latest book Sylvia will be released in October. I worked long days until mid-July so I could start picking right on time. After all, that’s the most important thing in late summer, not finishing a book!

My obsession got so out of hand that I even bought a car just for berry picking. Now I can go wherever I want in my little berry car.

What are your berry-picking outings like?

I often pick berries by myself. In the tiny trunk of my berry car, I keep rubber boots, buckets, and water. I don’t usually bring real snacks, because I’m not there for a picnic. I head out single-mindedly, already picturing the bright blue of the blueberries.

Sometimes my husband and I go together. He doesn’t care about it at all, but joining me is an act of everyday love. In the forest or on the bog, I’m over the moon. I tell him, “Isn’t this amazing?” He says he can think of plenty of things more fun than berry picking.

When I call in the evening from the bog saying I’m not coming home yet, my husband leaves the door unlocked. He never tells me to stop being so crazy.

During cloudberry season, all my relatives gather in Sodankylä, Lapland. We visit the same family spots every year. Those trips are true highlights for us; cloudberry picking is something we share.

What’s the best part about berry picking?

For me, the best part is peace of mind. Berry picking is like forest mindfulness, a total focus on the moment. I’ve looked for other ways to achieve this calm, and painting comes closest.

In the forest, I feel connected to my Ugric foremothers; I’m part of the chain of women who did exactly this. They spent the day in the hayfields, milked the cows, fed their families, and then headed out late at night to pick cloudberries. It helped them financially, but I believe they also found peace and freedom there.

I feel right at home in Sodankylä’s forests. The bog is my refuge. I love the scent of marsh tea and humus. It’s silent, and no one else is around.

Walking on a bog is fun because you need to watch your steps. I love how the ground gives way underfoot. It hasn’t occurred to me to be scared there.

Are you more goal-oriented or driven by the atmosphere?

For me, it’s not about quantity, but mindfulness. I’m an exclusive picker: I pick blueberries by hand, and only the biggest and most beautiful ones. I call picking with a scoop barbaric berry picking. Of course, everyone can pick however they want, but this way I don’t have to sort them afterwards.

I just pick whatever I get. Early in the season, I weigh the cloudberries before freezing them, but soon forget. We have three freezers at home, which I guess is genetic. My mother and father have six. I’m from Lapland, so self-sufficiency and gathering are in my nature.

Why do you think you’ve gotten so hooked on berry picking?

Berry picking calls for determination and just doing it. There are many of us who pick, and I’m not even sure if it’s a hobby or a lifeline. For tired mothers, it might seem hard to justify lying down in a quiet room, but no one questions you for finding peace in the forest.

There’s a wonderful playfulness in berry picking, in following your passion. You search for something and relish the process. It’s the perfect way for me to be in the world.