In the grand tradition of foraging in Maine during the exquisite summer months, we went blueberry picking up in Hollis.
Plip is the sound the blueberries made in our emptied yogurt containers. Just as Sal & her Mama went picking on Blueberry Hill with their tin pails in the story book "Blueberries for Sal" we all three had our yogurt pals and instead of Kerplink, Kerplank, Kerplunk....we had a bit of a short plip, plip, plip and then as the bottom of the pail filled it was quite silent.
It was my first time blueberry picking. We had met some friends initially at a great patch and the children played together, but it grew hot quickly andeming beneath the tall shady pines.
The kids enjoyed the swimming & not long after our friend led us back to the blueberry patch and we quietly entered the woods, just the four ofii
It was lovely and quiet there. We picked another quart full and feasted together. We speculated on what we would do with our berries. Maybe pie? Blueberry pancakes? Perhaps smoothies.
We wrapped up & tucked our forray in the cooler bag to keep. I hope the future will mbring more picking & excitement for us all.
