Blueberries, my mother said,

ripen in the late summer. The

quality of the crop depends on

the amount of rain from the summer

before. They need a lot of rain. But

they need sun too, learn to wait.



Look at the soft blue color -

take your finger and wipe it off

to reveal a brilliant purple. Wild

blueberries are small and seedy -

grandma has those in her backyard.

Fun to pick but too bitter for pie.



In August we gorge ourselves with

bursting round blue gems from the

Blueberry Farm. My mother says we

should wait and save our appetites.

Help pick, but don't eat yet. There is

an art to choosing the right berry.



They blotch our teeth, our fingers,

our lips. Blue-purple bruises of hunger.

Blue eyes turning green. Green leaves

turning brown. Freeze enough Blueberries,

then you won't miss them in the winter.

I'll teach you how to make muffins, maybe.