Yesterday, I was very upset about the loss of yet another blueberry bush by way of weed eater. I’m still upset. It’s difficult to explain why when my sister and I picked three gallons of blueberries today, and my friend and I picked two gallons yesterday. There are blueberries to be had in this life.<\/p>\n
That’s not the point. It was never the point. I want to grow my own in my own yard. I want the plants I put in the ground to survive. I’m still disgruntled over the fact that they are not surviving.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out what to do with two gallons of blueberries, which is what I currently have in my refrigerator. I’ll freeze some. I love to have blueberries to put in my oatmeal all through the year. I’ll eat even more. I can eat about a gallon of blueberries a week in the summer all on my own. The only real essentials of a summer diet in Mississippi are tomato sandwiches and fresh blueberries.<\/p>\n
By my estimates, in order to keep eating at the rate I’m going and to also have some to freeze, I need to pick another gallon by about Tuesday. I hear my brother has a friend who has dozens of bushes. Also, I’ve been given a bush that lives in someone else’s yard to console me over the loss of my own. I don’t think I will want for places to pick.<\/p>\n
And gladly will I pick.<\/p>\n
But then I have to also figure out what to do with them. I’ve been eating them with cereal and with ice cream. I’ve been filling up plastic cups with blueberries and eating them straight. I’ve been eating them in pies baked by my mother. No, of course I haven’t made the pies myself. If we took a family vote, I think I’d probably tie with my brother Keith as the Gerald least likely to bake a blueberry pie this week.<\/p>\n
I’m not looking for pie recipes. My mother’s pies are excellent. I have no need to make my own.<\/p>\n