Blueberry Dreams

During elementary school I remember reading a book where the character found herself having to survive in the forest somewhere in Maine. The name of the book escapes me. Perhaps it was a Boxcar Children book or Babysitter’s Club, since I probably read every single one of those books in the third grade. What I do remember about the book was that the girl made surviving in Maine sound like an adventure I wanted to have. She slept under the stars, picked blueberries, and somehow came about some cream from a dairy.

Now that adulthood has set in, I know this dreamy scenario won't occur. People don't get stranded in blueberry patches and happen upon some cream. I probably would be too cold under the stars all night anyways. Needless to say, it would be nice to pick some blueberries, pop them in my mouth, and think, “Oh yeah, I could have been that girl living off the land in Maine.”

Danny and I picked out some blueberry bushes last year at the local nursery. The blueberry gods recommend buying two different variations of bushes for maximum sweetness, so we did just that. Danny planted the bushes in a bare corner of our backyard. He did not plant them by the vegetable garden which I like... It made them seem more natural, like the patches in Maine.

Danny’s friend Todd came over one day and we were in the backyard…perhaps barbequing. Danny told Todd about our blueberry bushes. Todd said he had heard they didn't do so well around these parts. Todd is a pretty smart guy, so I believed him. My blueberry dream was sort of crushed, although no one knew it was crushed, because I had never told anyone about it. Who tells her friends or husband that she has blueberry dreams because of some silly book she read in third grade? Not me. But now I have this silly little blog, and for blogging’s sake decided to share it with cyberspace.

The first year there were no blueberries. The plants looked withered and puny. Perhaps it had something to do with the bee shortage, the dogs, or perhaps Todd was right: My visions of blueberry picking were just pipe dreams.

But today, after Danny mowed the lawns, he came in announcing that he just ate a blueberry. I had to clarify, “From outside?” I asked because we have approximately one million blueberries from Costco in the freezer. Danny assured me it was from the bushes and he took me to see.

There are about 6 ripe sweet little blueberries. I picked one. It tasted wonderful. It had just the right sweetness and made the most perfect pop in my mouth. With more promising little blueberry buds on the plant, I hope to enjoy more blueberry moments this spring. Maybe I’ll lay under the stars for a bit. And maybe I'll happen upon some cream (and by that I mean happen to go to Save Mart and get some heavy whipping cream). It may not be Maine or my exact elementary school dream, but it's a fairly good adult interpretation.