Boys and Blueberries and Lessons Learned
I am blueberry-rich. And I know I’mlucky. Both my parents and my husband’s family grow lots and lots ofblueberries, so we can pick to our hearts’ delight. While I’ve enjoyed thisprivilege for almost 20 years, my kids (twin boys, age 41/2) just discovered itlast year—and truly started, in their own way, relishing it this year.
So they get all kinds of excitedabout picking, with much, much chatter about what bucket they’re going to takeor how many berries they’ll eat for each one they actually put in the bucket.And when we get out to the bushes to pick, it’s always hot, no matter how earlywe start, because, hey, blueberries happen in summer, and we live in a very hotplace. So the kids lose interest after about seven minutes. They’ll plop downon the ground and just start shoving (literally) handfuls of berries in theirmouths and complain about the heat and tell me they just want me to make them apie.
But despite all that, I know (maybeI just hope) that they’re learning something valuable, whether they know it ornot—that food doesn’t just magically appear in boxes or cartons on grocerystore shelves, that people actually grow or raise food, people have to harvestit, and that no food is better than that pulled right off the branch or vine orplucked from the water. And that anything blueberry “flavored” can’t hold acandle to the real thing.
If you find yourselfblueberry-rich, too, try some of these great recipes: