"Wait - isn't that Dr. Henry Walton Jones Jr. - somehow transplanted forward in time to present day America?"
I've been reading about Heinrich Schliemann. He was a wealthy German entrepreneur in the 19th century who was absolutely nutso infatuated with Homer's Iliad - which he very much believed to be historical fact (Gods and monsters and all). So much so that after he made his fortune and retired (in his 30s no less) he buggered off to Crete and Greece to dig up entire cities (like Knossos) that Homer talked about. This appeared to be a dangerous cocktail for me - combining the two things that I am most romantic about in the whole world - being a writer and being Indiana Jones. Drunk on adventure and blinded by the fog of romance I went on my own mini-excursion yesterday in the hunt of treasure. Not for historical civilizations - but for fruit.
My kids absolutely love our twice-daily romp about collecting berries. They are surprisingly mild-mannered about it too - both taking the handfuls of glistening purple raspberries and either placing them into their container - or splitting them fairly between them to eat on the spot. Although I should mention yesterday that after I announced I'd found another patch of berries that they did then try and bump the other one off so that they could get them all for themselves. Anyhoo - much of the back yard is peppered with now-ripe black-raspberries, and soon-to-be ripe blackberries. And yet a large wad of the back yard was unreachable purely due to the thickness of the foliage. But I was positive that I could see good-old regular raspberries in there. So I donned my hat (to keep the bugs off my head), my boots, wielded a plastic baseball bat and went kerthumping through the thicket.
I returned with a decent sampling of raspberries. It also gave me a decent idea to to go hacking back through later today and make some sort of Labyrinth (my own tribute to Knossos) that we can easily wander through during the rest of Summer to grab more berries more easily. Swelling with pride at finding new treasure, and glistening from the efforts of my toil I asked my wife to take a photograph of me. I imagined what I would soon be looking back on - a firm, sleek adventurer that people would probably assume was the inspiration for Dr. Jones, somehow transplanted forward in time. Unfortunately my daughter photo-bombed the moment leading to a rather white-trash looking image where it looks like I'm about to correct her behavior with a few hefty swings.
Still - today we shall swim, get the dog to the vet, and then adventure in the back yard. I may even take a shovel. Although frankly I'm genuinely worried every time I dig out there.