Because is there any other activity you would possibly want to do on a 96-degree day than stand outside under the sun and pull fruit off trees?
Maybe, but I loved it. True, I wanted to quit after 5 minutes. But once I passed that hurdle, I settled into the peaceful, calming routine of testing the berries to see if they would easily release from the branches, carefully removing them, and placing them in a basket. There was a gentle breeze. The sun beating down wasn’t as strong as I had feared. It was nice.
But even if it had been torture, it would have been worth it. Have you ever had fresh-picked blueberries? The taste is so much better than regular blueberries from the store that it doesn’t even seem fair to call them by the same name. They’re so sweet and juicy and flavorful. I’ve never been one to argue for organic food even though I’ve heard about the benefits; if it’s more expensive, I’m not that interested. I see the point now. There’s something you lose by purchasing processed food. You wouldn’t know it until you taste the alternative, but once you do, it makes you question everything. (Or everything food-related, at least.) What else am I missing out on by not harvesting my own sustenance?
No, don’t tell me. I don’t have time to go out every single day and pick crops. But if I did, I think I might. And I think I would be much healthier–both physically and even mentally–for it.
For now, I’m just going to think about all of the blueberry treats to come in the next week: pie, of course, and coffee cake, and streusel, and cheesecake.
If my skin appears to have a blue tinge a la Veruca Salt the next time you see me, you’ll know why.