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Adorable. No front teeth and all! |
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There’s something about a tradition that makes me feel safe. The constancy of doing something year after year, season after season. It warms my heart with a familiarity and structure. For as many years as I can remember, my mom and sister and I have gone up to a local blueberry patch and picked our own berries. It started when we were probably 9 or 10 years old. Two little girls, long braids, big white buckets and lots of berries. We were dreaming of owning our own horse. After riding a sweet little horse named Brandy for almost a year she was up for sale and we wanted to buy her for our very own. Being the hard working girls that we were, we had yard sales, went door to door selling veggie from our garden, picked strawberries, and many other things. One source of income was picking these succulent and famously large blueberries and selling them for a little profit to friends and neighbors. We had quite a clientele! To this day, over 20 years later, the owners still comment on how we were the hardest working little girls they had ever seen. I guess hard work as a little kid is not as common as it used to be… Ever since those early years, we all have made a yearly trek to the berry patch. No longer do we pick 100’s of pounds, but just enough to eat and freeze. As the years have gone by we have added, first my brother-in-law, then Bean, and each of the girls. It is so priceless to see them join in something I did as a little girl myself. Thursday was the perfect day, sunny with a cool mountain breeze. Berry picking is a time to catch up. I love sitting on a bucket, head bowed beneath the branches, listening to voices drift over from surrounding rows. Neighbors catching up since last berry picking season. Comparing notes and gossip on babies, and marriages and jobs. It feels good, homey and familiar. The burst of sweet tart in your mouth, the blue stains on your fingers, the “Thump thump” the berries make as they hit the bottom of your bucket. The laughter, the “I can’t believe it’s been a year already.” All this I want to share with my babies. To say, “Mommy used to come up here when she was a little girl just like you.” To see their braids and shining heads bob up and down between the rows. History and tradition. Two words that are like the bookends of life to me. Even though everything changes, some things do indeed stay the same…. |
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Man, I love this face! |
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No matter what we do, or have ever done, my sister loves a good competition. I have never really cared whether I win or lose, especially things like who can pick the most berries or who got their clothes ironed the fastest. But, no matter how much time passes she still makes everything competition. She happened to marry someone who doesn’t mind it either. Their son, however, is a natural born leader. He was our foreman, organizer, cheerleader, and berry counter. He would go from person to person saying "Keep picking, your doing good. Can you help me fill mine now?" So, as you can imagine, the morning was filled with a few of us (my sister and brother-in-law and Bean) picking like crazy people to see who could fill their bucket first. Then there were others of us (like myself, my Sugar Pea, and My JeJe) who spent time taking pictures, chasing bugs, and occasionally dropping berries into the bucket! Of course there was also my Marmie who steadily picked and enjoyed herself too. The best of both worlds she is. |
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What are these blue things? Hmmm…Yum yum! |
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JeJe’s first year at the berry patch |
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Look at my berries! |
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Sugar Pea loves Blueberries soooo much! Her fingers were blue by the end of the morning! |
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So many berries…so little time! She could not get berries into her mouth fast enough! |
Bean is such a good big brother! A protector, a confidante, a friend, a playmate. The first to stand up for his little sisters, the first to run to their aid. He loved being “big enough” to pull the wagon full of sisters and berries!
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One of Many Buckets of Berries! |
