We visited the Blueberry Ranch early last week for breakfast. It was 8 am and I said, "come on kids, we're going to have blueberries for breakfast." They ate their hearts out and I actually felt a bit queasy from my consumption when we left an hour later. With these 90-100 degree days in July and Henry being at that "can't-sit-still, crawling-and-into-everything" stage, I knew picking this year was going to be tough so we didn't push it. The farm has plenty of prepicked for only a few dollars more for a 10# box. We ended up picking 9 pounds ourselves and bought 20 more pounds already picked. We will probably go back for more next week after we eat the 9 pounds of fresh berries just to have more fresh to eat. And because after getting out there finally and starting to pick, I realized how much I enjoy picking blueberries. Strawberries, not so much. Apples, take it or leave it. But blueberries connects with my inner OCD and I become driven to collect every blue ripe berry on that bush. Next year will be better for picking when Henry can wander around and eat right along side the girls.
This is not a picture of me coughing, but shoveling a handful of blueberries into my mouth. It was breakfast time and a girl's gotta eat. Who eats just 1 blueberry at at time, really!My helpers. I say that because I dominate the blueberry picking every year and my bucket always outweighs Dan's so that qualifies him as one of the helpers instead of the leader, the boss, as I like to call it.