Blueberries for Sal

We began the day by sleeping in a little and then paid for our laziness by picking blueberries in the sweltering heat. But we were willing sufferers. Last year, a late freeze completely obliterated the berry patch's crop and we had to make do with frozen blueberries. A sore trial, indeed. Luckily I had done enough jam the previous year that we just finished the last of it off a month ago. (Is that right? Should jam be ok to eat not one, but two years later?) So anyway, the kids were so excited to be able to pick this year, and boy did we have to work for what we got. Turns out we're not the only ones in the metropolitan area who might be a little eager for the blueberry picking this year. The darn berry patches have been picked clean daily and we had to be vigilant today to seek out enough ripe berries to fill our buckets.

Wonderboy was all business. All business, and dreams of blueberry muffins, blueberry crumb cake, blueberry pancakes, blueberry cobbler, blueberry jam, blueberry buckle, blueberry...

Fia kindly offered to taste-test most of the berries I picked, but when I suggested she was just like Sal, she became a just a teeny tiny bit upset and informed me that was not her name at all, thank you very much.

Bubs was a great helper taste-testing the berries that were rotting on the ground under the bushes. He's number three. And number three can't be picky. It's survival of the fittest, after all.