We did not grow up with blueberries. They were a relatively recent addition to the supermarket aisles. I had, of course, heard of them but imagined them somehow to be bluer than they were. They were really more of a dusty purple and not as sweet as I imagined. They were no substi(more)tute for the blackberries of my childhood. These were also more of a purple colour. I wondered why no one though of calling either of them a purple berry. Never the less I missed blackberries. There were no blackberries in the city.
I remember the Autumns back in the old house where we grew up where blackberry picking was just part and parcel of the day. The bushes along the boreen to the house were heavy with the fruit. We would dawdle on the narrow road from the school bus on those Indian Summer days after hot and stuffy classrooms and algebra and fill our mouths with the juicy berries. By the time we walked the half mile home our fingers would be stained and we would have no appetite for our dinners.
On Saturdays we would take buckets and fill them for jam-making. Bubbling pots of the sticky sweetness would fill the kitchen with steam and the jars with jam that would be distributed to the family neighbours and would still fill the hollow wooden seat in the hall. If we were running low I would be sent to fetch a new jar. Often the newspapers and bills and phone messages would have to be swept aside to open the cushioned lid of the bench that served as a seat to find the purple treasure beneath it. The jars would do us from one end of the year to the next. There was always plenty. (less)
Every summer I've lived at home has been distinctly marked by what we called pickin' season. The blackberries fill the woodlands, the fruit trees are bearing, and the garden is teeming with perfectly crisp and fresh veggies.
You don't check the fridge, you go outside.
(more) But nothing beats the blueberries. 3 rows of overladen bushes, more blue than green, nary a leaf to be seen. Friends come and pick, friends of friends come and pick, bags and bags are given away where ever you go. The feeling of giving warms the heart just as the hot Florida sunshine warms the body. (less)
"blueberries" sound beautiful, i think
blueberries might not taste as beautiful as its name
blueberries are probably not something one fancies eating
blueberries are rich with vitamin a (maybe)
blueberries; i wish life gives you those instead of lemonade(s)