I just ate some fresh blueberries for my supper. I love blueberries. They’re so beautiful – so mysteriously coloured, with a veil of pale blue over a deep purple-blue. There are blueberry farms in the area where I live, and I’ve picked fresh blueberries in the summer. I can remember sitting on a wooden stool, methodically dropping berries into a metal bucket. Plunk, plunk…
They fire something that sounds like a gun every few minutes, to scare off the birds that would eat all that cash hanging from the bushes. Blueberries aren’t cheap. I remember paying $18 for my full pail…
But the best part was picking with my niece and nephew, when they were little. To see their faces, when they realized food was just hanging there, within reach of their tiny fingers, ready to pop in their mouths…
I appreciate blueberries.
