My sister and I used to spend summer vacations on our grandparents’ farm. Sometimes we would wake from a nap after lunch and find a note instructing us to go to a certain part of the farm.
Grandma put notes all over the farm, each note with a simple message and a clue to finding the next message. At the end, we’d find a small treat such as fruit, cookies or freshly baked bread.
No two treasure hunts were the same, but nearly all of them took us over to the mulberry trees, where we were instructed to pick a certain number of the berries.
I remember Grandma always smiling at my juice-stained hands at the end of the treasure hunt.
Well, I’d pick the berries, but I’d never eat them, because the note never said to eat them.
Yes, I’m still weird about things like that.
My dad, son of my grandma, used to make treasure hunts on our birthdays. I wonder if he’d be interested in continuing the tradition by making treasure hunts for his grandkids.
I’ll go ask.