Blueberry Picking

“Forget who you are and why you're here-all that foolishness. In the woods the bushes are full of blueberries; go and pick some.”
― Marty Rubin 
 Some things that you do out of repetition are solely for the virtue of getting them done. Others you do because the joy of nostalgia is as great as the rewards of your effort. Berry picking is like that for me. I adore the berries, but it is the years of great memories that  fill me with joy at the thought of going. And this year made a new memory. Instead of pop and the boys being with me, it was pop and two of my sweet daughter-in-laws. I was sad that my other daughter-in-law, Emiley, had to work, but I hope to get her there next time. This was a first of blueberry picking for both gals.

When I was young, we went to a place called Fischer's in Gravette. Half the excitement was the long travel into the boonies, finally going up a hill so steep and rocky that the car would sometimes slide backward a bit, giving you a start. When we passed the pasture filled with bright-eyed and canny goats we were almost there. Acres of berries spread as far as the eye could see.

The bushes there were so old and tall that you were completely camouflaged from anyone in other rows. Once the boys and I were talking about how it would be a great place for a snake to get out of the sun. There came a voice from several rows over hollered, "DID YOU SAY YOU SAW A SNAKE??" After we reassured the unseen picker we had to laugh.

This year we went to Decatur, to a place new to us- Rock-a-berry farm. It was a lovely new farm, set way back in the woods. The bushes were shorter and younger, but when you can see splotches of blue before you even leave the car, you know the picking will be good. We got there when the dew was still on the berries and the sun was just starting to show that it was really summer. The girls were new to it, and I told them to look down the rows for the plumpest berries and then taste one. A farm often has as many as 8 different varieties and they ripen at different times and have different flavors. When you find the perfect bushes, then you stay and pick. Clusters of ripe berries are so nice to pick. You hold your palm under and rub the berries with your thumb and your hand fills with ripe fruit.

When the  boys were small the lady there would joke that she should weigh the boys as they went in, and then when they came out, to know how many berries they had actually picked. But any berry grower knows that when you find the biggest and fattest berries, they will go straight into your mouth, not the bucket!

One of my very first jobs was sorting blueberries at a farm a couple dirt roads behind us. I was allowed to drive since I never got out on the highway. The pickers got there at dawn to begin harvesting for the farm, and they would bring their buckets and pour them down a sloped table to me. I sorted them, taking out crushed or unripe berries, picking out stems and leaves, and finally funneling them into small green berry boxes to sell to stores in the area. It was a tedious job, but when you are working with something as beautiful as blueberries it's not a hardship.

The spot was so lovely! It adds to the experience if the place is quaint. The old place had goats and critters running about. This one had a two-story hen house. She said she didn't let the chickens out when people were coming to pick, because she had one pet hen that would wait till someone pulled up, and then she'd fall over and pretend that she was dead! I loved that. And I loved the lady's garden with its gorgeous swinging metal gate. That's my clan on the porch getting their berries weighed.

Here pop is contemplating his spoils. We did not get nearly as many as we used to in years past. Of course, all three of the boys would have been picking too. But, like anything, the price has gone up for berries. It was $8 for a gallon when we started, then went up to $12. This year the price was $27 a gallon. But the time spent there, and the company I was in, made the berries all the sweeter.

 These will go into the fridge to eat on for a couple of days until I am nearly sick. Then they will go into the freezer. Have you ever eaten a frosty frozen blueberry? They are one of summers most delicious and nutritious frozen snacks. And to think of having them to bake with! Blueberry waffles, pancakes, muffins, jam, and pie...But I also have a recipe that has been sleeping through the winter waiting for berry season. It's a rustic cake filled with lemon zest, poppy seeds, and blueberries in a cornmeal batter. I feel the need to try that soon!

The boys and I always thought that it would be a very good life to be a box turtle on a berry farm or orchard. You could simply sleep below bushes and eat the ripe fruit that fell all summer long. Cherries and strawberries first, then blueberries, after that raspberries and blackberries. Perhaps you would even be lucky enough to have windfalls of peaches and apples later in the season. Then hole up to sleep the cold winter through, dreaming of all the beautiful things to eat when the sun turned warm again...

What about you, Dear Reader, do you go to pick berries as a summer ritual? Or perhaps you have your own? I'd love to hear about what you do with your fresh picked delights!

"I wonder if you ever think about sitting under that oak tree, with the cicadas buzzing, and, at night, the crickets. Or how the ice used to cover the blueberry bushes in the winter, giving them that dreamy look. Or how we used to sell the pies for your mother at the roadside stand.
I still think of you whenever I see blueberries.”
― Mary Simses, The Irresistible Blueberry Bakeshop and Cafe