I bought 60 pounds of them the previous summer so we had lots of berries to eat over the winter. We ran out before this summer arrived. So, this year I set my sights on more: 80-100 pounds to last us through a winter of blueberry pies, crisps and lots for our cereal, pancakes and scones.
This year, a friend of mine closed her organic blueberry farm to public picking, but kept it open to friends who wanted to pick their own for pennies. I hadn’t picked in 40 years, since I was young! What would it be like now? Would it be torture like it was when Dad gave us quotas and we struggled to fill our pail?
We had a fabulous summer this year, weather wise. And I was working on a very relaxed schedule. For four Fridays in a row….sunny, hot, gorgeous Fridays….I got in the car at 7:30 am, picked up my sister and/or a couple friends who were free, and headed out to the blueberry farm.
It. Was. Heaven.
There was still some coolness in the air, a wonderful freshness. The birds were singing, the bushes were plentiful and we picked, and talked and solved the world’s problems, and caught up. I managed to pick about 20 pounds in 2-3 hours, so I reached my quota by the time the month was up. We’d leave the farm by late morning and head home for lunch. I’d pack up the days pickings and bag them in 1-2 pound bags and freeze them right away.
The freezer is full and the berries taste even better knowing that I picked them on those sunny mornings with my sister, and soul sisters around me.