Saturday, May 24, 2008

Berry picking with Grandma

We went out on this breathlessly hot afternoon in the golf cart to see if the blackberries in the pine island field were ripe. We were squished together- Grandpa, Quincy, the three year old, Lola the dachshund, and me, Grandma. When we got to the large patch of berries we could see that most of the berries were still an unripe red, but we looked for the few dark and juicy ones. Blackberry patches are full of thorns and we cautioned Quincy to look out for the stickers. We found a few and gave them to Quincy, a most adventurous eater who loves to eat anything that grows. He reached out his little plump hands and scooped them into his mouth. "Delish", he pronounced. And then, "Bears like blueberries!"

As we went on, I asked Quincy if he knew the story of 'Blueberries for Sal'. He said he did, that's how he knows that bears like blueberries. I am rejoicing that this child who never said a word until recently can carry on a conversation about books! You learn a lot in berry patches.

As we proceed across the pastures I think about the many other wonderful berry picking experiences I have had with my small relatives. I remember being in the garden with Dan, my nephew. I noticed and rejoiced in seeing his small plump hands picking the fruits off the vines.

I remember going to a u-pick place in Washington with my grandson Silvio who at the time was having such a hard time as a three year old who could barely understand the terrible troubles of his family. The two of us threaded between the rows with our containers to fill. We were in the thrall of the lovely sunny northwest sunshine, and this was as peaceful a time as this dear little boy had had in a long time. Silvio ate as many berries as he picked and his chubby cheeks were purple with the juice and his chin dripped. When our containers were full we checked out at the kiosk, ready to make a blueberry pie.

When our oldest child was small enough to be in a backpack on his father, we had wonderful days collecting those incredible tiny wild New England blueberries. The sun was hot on our backs and we were in love with each other and life and we fed our son those sun-warmed fruits.
I especially remember the tiny hands reaching out to these incredibly succulent fruits of warm earth, and his eager mouth lapping up their sweet tastes.

Everyone should pick berries with people they love.