Friday, August 7, 2009

Blueberry Hill




Bucket in hand, ku-plink, ku-plank, ku-plunk, the sound of blueberries dropping in, one by one, then handful by handful. She had no intention of picking blueberries this year, but a free morning, a clear blue day, and a nearby farm called to the deep-down parts of her that pleaded with her to fill the nest with bottled fruit, canned jams, pickled beans--food storage for the hard winters.

So she went. Edging her way through the rows of bushes higher than her head, squinting up at cluster of berries, ku-plink, ku-plank, ku-plunk, into the bucket they go. And before she knew it, four pounds of berries nestled together in the bucket awaiting pectin.