Blueberries 101

Growing up in Maine, I have several fond memories.  One of the sweetest, both mentally and taste-wise, would be the blueberries.  Blueberries were the epitome of Summer for me.  The reason being would be the countless time we'd spend picking them.  They grew in the wild up and down the country roads where we lived and in the woods behind my Grandmothers home.  I distinctly remember picking with my Great Grandmother, Mamie. She holds a dear place in my heart, in fact Her first name was Louisa. Now you know.  Back to my story, by her side I'd walk and we would have little mesh strainers we'd hold just for picking. Sometimes I'd bring along a paper cup so that I could fill it up with the berries and then pour them in Mamie's larger mesh basket.  The berries were the sweetest thing you'd know.  Perfectly ripe and you would literally squat and pick as the bushes lay so near to the ground, think "Blueberries for Sal."  Those Maine blueberries were merely a memory as they don't grow blueberries the same down in the south.  The further south you go, the bigger and the paler the berries are.  They still taste good but are a milder, more spread out flavor.  The little berries up north taste blue and the sweetness is so centralized in the mouth that you have to have another and another. It's like comparing a period to an exclamation point, both command a purpose, one is just more exciting! This leads to my story, today we went berry picking and wouldn't you know that we discovered a bush that was putting out Maine blueberries.  Jackie was convinced a seed meant for a baby bird was somehow dropped by its' mother down here in North Carolina.  However it happened we were so pleased.  We robbed that bush of all its' berries.  What a treat.