Donna After the Blueberries
It all began this morning when the old tom turkey who’s been visiting us all week landed at the end of the meadow in front of our cabin and I got ambitious and decided to take his picture. I was too late or too obvious to accomplish that task, but on the way back, I found a cluster of blueberry bushes I’d overlooked all week. Snapped a few pictures, snagged a few berries to bring back to Donna.
I should have known this would set in motion a project. Herself was off the porch first with a glass, then with a bowl, harvesting every ripe berry she could find. What to do with her magnificent stash? It turns out the answer was to drive down the mountain to a local general store and purchase canning jars and pectin.
This is our last night at the cabin after probably the best vacation of our lives together. Hard to leave. But here’s the consolation: in December or January, when the snow is piling up and we are hunkered down in Philly, we can open up a jar and be back on the mountain.
Canned blueberries; Preserved memories.
Save some for your friends. Oh, and maybe some blueberry beer.