I enjoy picking strawberries and apples. But I find blueberry picking oddly addictive. Maybe because it's so easy. You don't have to crouch down, you don't have to strain to reach, or scratch yourself silly reaching inside a tree for the perfect Empire. You just stand there, direct your hand to a bush that's at just the right height, and coax a handful of beautiful berries off the bush with less effort than it takes to brush a fly off your hand.
I had a hard time stopping. But it was hot and we had two little guys with us. The elder, Henry, our nearly four-year-old, has decided he "hates" blueberries, which didn't help. (This makes me so sad, not only because they were one of his favorite things when he was a little guy, but because I still have the whole Blueberries for Sal fantasy in my head. I always loved that book.)At any rate, I think we came away with fewer berries than last year, because, though I bought some pectin to try canning, we actually managed to eat these berries without much alteration. I did, however, make a batch of blueberry muffins before they were gone. (Recipe coming soon.)
Meanwhile, if there's a pick-your-own spot in your area, I highly recommend heading out for some berries. It's an immensely pleasing and peaceful way to pass the morning.
No comments:
Post a Comment