"I’m not sure if what I have is an obsession, a compulsion, or merely a passion." May your obsessive-compulsive passion never fade. This essay is as delicious as your jam (which my husband still talks about…)
Blueberries flavor favorite memories of summers with my grandmother Mama Russell. She knew all the wild blueberry patches on Peak's Knob, the tallest peak near Pulaski, Virginia where she and Granddaddy farmed. My favorite spot was the cemetery near "The Old Potter Place" whose people were long gone. As we picked - and I generally ate more than made it into my bucket - she'd tell us stories about all the folk buried there. I felt like our visits kept them company and they knew they weren't forgotten.
My new house unexpectedly has a bunch of blueberry bushes, so this is my first year picking in my own backyard! Love watching the robins and catbirds feast, and the variety of colors as the berries ripen. I think I now share your obsession!
"I’m not sure if what I have is an obsession, a compulsion, or merely a passion." May your obsessive-compulsive passion never fade. This essay is as delicious as your jam (which my husband still talks about…)
I’ll have to bring you more!
I have blackberry bushes in my backyard and I feel the same, although with more intense competitive feelings about the birds.
We have so many that there are plenty for both of me and the birds - and I can’t reach the tops of the high bush bushes so the birds get all of those!
I could relate to everything expressed in this post, but for the coffee. And I know I'm part of a tiny minority in that regard.
— Highbush Blueberries —
July is when these berries will mature.
They do so at a varied pace -- some dark
and smooth, some pruinosed, but to ensure
a long fecundity, these lie in stark,
contrasting hues among some mottled pink
ones, and some green, unripened fruit. And I,
in harvesting the current crop, will think
of other animals. They also spy
the treasure here: Those wasps and hornets, which
ignore me at the edge; the silent crows
who wait nearby (to them I'll leave the rich
interior); the browsing fawns and does.
Abundance makes it fine to share this yield,
for truth be told, these bushes dot the field.
Blueberry-inspired poetry! Thank you
Blueberries flavor favorite memories of summers with my grandmother Mama Russell. She knew all the wild blueberry patches on Peak's Knob, the tallest peak near Pulaski, Virginia where she and Granddaddy farmed. My favorite spot was the cemetery near "The Old Potter Place" whose people were long gone. As we picked - and I generally ate more than made it into my bucket - she'd tell us stories about all the folk buried there. I felt like our visits kept them company and they knew they weren't forgotten.
That’s a lovely memory!
My new house unexpectedly has a bunch of blueberry bushes, so this is my first year picking in my own backyard! Love watching the robins and catbirds feast, and the variety of colors as the berries ripen. I think I now share your obsession!
That’s so exciting- let me know if you need any recipes!
Thank you for sharing your wonderful jam with us and for teaching me how to pick the perfect blueberry. Tiny, wild blueberries are truly a treasure.
They are almost magical!
Love it! Anytime you find you have too many, happy to take some off your hands:)
Or come pick yourself - there’s plenty to share!
You are the Queen of Metaphors! Great post. Now I want some blueberries.
Come pick anytime! I’ve got more than enough