It seems that the wild blueberries on Fire Island are starting to ripen this week. I’ve had an eye out for them and have been rewarded with many sweet little treats. I can’t help but think about both of my Grandmothers whenever I pick some wild blueberries.
My paternal Grandma’s backyard bordered on an Power Company right of way. The area under the high T’s was filled with wild blueberries bushes. My cousins and I would eagerly wait for Grandma to tell us that the blueberries were ripe for the picking, and then like a hyper mob we would rush out into the fields and fill our buckets with our sweet prizes. Now admittedly my Dad’s Mom wasn’t much of a cook, raising 6 kids, and having 14 grandkids made her more of a caterer than a gourmet chef but Grandma handing you a bowl of fresh berries with a bit of sugar on them seemed like heaven!
Now my Mom’s Mom was a good cook, she made delicious blueberry muffins! My mother’s family was much smaller and I got to spend a lot of one on one time with my Grandma. Our blueberry ritual was much more laid back than a mob of half dressed little savages rampaging amongst the Power Co’s berry patch. Grandma would pack a picnic lunch and we would climb the little hill next to her house and enjoy sandwiches and iced tea while sitting under a big oak tree. After we ate we would gather up a bucket of blueberries and take them back to her house and she would make those awesome muffins.
It is a nice feeling to wander down memory lane and remember those 2 great ladies who I hold so dear.
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