The Berry of Champions

Today I finally claimed the Vermont summer as my own. How, you ask? Why, by picking my own blueberries, of course! Nothing says "New England Summer" like berry picking and boy did I pick berries. After neurotically calling every berry farm within 20 miles to find the cheapest price per pound (winner: Pelkey's in Charlotte at $1.85 a pound), I drove on down scenic Route 7 to the farm:


It was a perfect day - overcast, not too warm, a nice breeze - exactly the rare summer day that doesn't give me heatstroke due to low blood pressure and an inability to regulate my internal temperature. And it was lovely:


I picked 6 sumptuous pounds of the antioxidant powerhouses in a little over an hour:


While in the past I've feared solo expeditions, I admit to thoroughly enjoying the experience by myself. It was peaceful and meditative. It was also great fun listening to grandmothers exchanging pie recipes, mothers keeping track of a cadre of renegade 5 year olds, fathers frantically proclaiming that they had found THE most prolific berry bush, a little girl bestowing the title of "favorite cousin" to whichever relative gave her the most "tester" berries to eat, and watching families be families... laughing, scolding, chatting, enjoying each other's company. It was a great day.

And then I made jam!



Yeay jam and yeay blueberry picking. I highly recommend heading out and discovering the joy of finding a stash of blue jewels in just the right patch of bushes yourself.