an embarrassment of riches

Yes, it's a cliché but I have never in my long, long life picked so many blueberries in so little time. As I stood this morning, surrounded by obligingly high-bush shrubs (it's nice not to have to bend over), I felt flustered by the abundance.


When we moved here, 19 years ago, we were thrilled to find ourselves in blueberry country. They were everywhere, obligingly ripening over a month's time (usually mid-July through mid-August, but everything is early this year). In the swamp, the schoolyard, the woods, we find different varieties that ripen at different times to different shades of blue and different degrees of sweetness. A fortunate and delicious combination.

This year I'm overwhelmed! The clusters are heavier, the berries are larger, the taste sweeter. I gathered with both hands, rolling the berries off their stems and dropping them in to the bag clipped at my waist.

And now? What to do? I have recipes for blueberry pudding, blueberry buckle, blueberry crisp. But I can't decide!

And yes, those are blackberries in the foreground. My picking ground obligingly provides multiple crops (fiddlehead fern, cattails, milkweed, and mayapple are just outside the frame). A few were ripe today, but in a week I'll have another dilemma on my hands.