On Saturday, we felt incredibly unrushed. Zack had finally returned to being his normal self after the few days of post-oral-surgery medication, and I was not feeling motivated to accomplish much of anything aside from spending quality time with him. We rode our bikes through our neighborhood and fixed ourselves fancy crostini for lunch, sitting on the floor in our sunroom as July bugs beat on the outside glass, wishing to join in the cool indoor air.
In the afternoon, we climbed into the car and began to drive. It was one of those organically spontaneous treks, where I asked, "Did you see the sign to pick blueberries up past the church?" and he replied, "No, lets go check it out!" And without another word, we had slipped on our shoes and were off, driving with the windows down.
We followed the sign several miles up a hill, winding our way past sunflowers, away from the town and up toward the green farms high above the valley. The sign on the gate informed us that the blueberries were ripe for the picking and, if was needed a bucket, to leave money in the small wooden box nailed to the fence. The field was empty. Just the blueberry bushes, the hill and us. We grabbed a pail and began to harvest.
We ate as we plucked (because how could we not?), feasting and picking and tasting as we slowly filled the bucket with handfuls of fruit. Kneeling in dirt, I remembered an old children's book--one of my favourites growing up--and thought to myself, "Bears aside, this is pretty much just as wonderful as Blueberries for Sal."
We should have weighed the pail once it was full. I have no idea how many we picked, but it was pounds and pounds, I am sure. We ate more on the ride home, tossing handfuls of rich berries back into our mouths with gusto. While watching an evening movie with friends, we placed the bucket of berries among us, forgoing popcorn for tart, blue fruit.
Yesterday, the berries became cobbler.
Today (I am a little ashamed to admit), there are hardly any left, and we feel a little sick.
But they were totally worth it. Hands down.