It's summer, and that means my annual trip to Moorhead's Blueberry Farm. I love blueberries, but I also get a charge out of picking them myself, and it's a LOT cheaper. There's also the entertainment value. Blueberry bushes are quite tall and bushy, so you can't really see anyone more than 10 feet away, so there's a tendency to forget that there are other people around you, which makes for great eavesdropping. The topics of conversation are broader than one might expect from a bunch of people picking fruit.
Pride:
"Mommy! Look! Look, Mommy! I picked the biggest blueberry in the WORLD!"
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| The berries are huge this year |
Ethics/Death Penalty:
"I asked him why he killed the grasshopper and he said it was because the grasshopper had killed the lovebugs, and the lovebugs hadn't done anything to him."
Practicality:
The woman in the row behind me accidentally dropped a handful of berries down her shirt. There was a pause and then her friend said: "Well, now you have a snack for later."
I spent about an hour picking, and I gathered almost 9 pounds of fruit. The berries are huge this year. And sweet too. There are a ton of blueberry recipes out there: pancakes, pies, jam, muffins, smoothies, even wine (if you're feeling like a challenge) but honestly, that's too much work. It's summer, it's hot, and there is nothing better than having a big bowl of blueberries in the fridge. I've been eating my almost 9 pounds plain. They are very nice tossed into a salad, or on top of some plain yogurt for breakfast, or even just grabbing the occasional handful when I get the munchies. Why gild the lily?
