Living in New Hampshire, blueberry picking is a summer tradition. In my childhood home our backyard was bordered by woods. Walking deeper into these woods, I was able to find wild blueberry bushes. I have many fond memories of summer mornings, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and pants, with one of my brothers accompanying me to pick blueberries. Swatting at mosquitoes and itching new bites, we would pick berries until our coffee cans were full.
Now that I am the mom of four children, I look forward to taking them blueberry picking. Unfortunately, our yard is not bordered by wild blueberry bushes, so we need to travel to a pick-your-own stand. Conveniently, we live only a quarter mile from Durocher Farm.
On a recent Saturday morning, my husband, two of the children, and I got dressed and headed to the blueberry farm. I chose a large bucket in which to carry the bulk of the berries, and everyone else took a small bucket. After being told where the best picking was that day, we walked deep into the field. Each of us chose a bush at which to start picking and began filling our buckets. While picking, I was able to have separate conversations with each of the kids, giving me brief periods of desired one-on-one time.
After 20 minutes of picking, we had gathered about 5 1/2 pounds of blueberries. This would be enough for nibbling and some homemade recipes. We paid for our fruit and returned home with the kids happily munching on handfuls of blueberries.
While blueberry picking is a quick parent and child adventure, it is endearing to me. Not only does it bring back wonderful memories of my childhood, but it creates new memories for me, my husband, and our children.