Blueberries always remind me of my momma. She was a fine gardener. She always had a good sized garden in the field next to the yard. She grew all the regional vegetables with abundance. She lined tomatoes up on every window sill to finish ripening. I can still taste that rich flavor of her tomato sandwiches with Duke’s mayonnaise.
She also had a beautiful row of blueberry bushes, carefully tended. Even in her old age, she picked berries early in the morning. I can close my eyes and see her in her big straw hat and basket, slowly picking each ripe berry. She would wash them in the big green colander and make deep dish blueberry pie. We ate the pie with vanilla ice cream.
I have been trying slowly to bring the fallow bushes back. They are full of weeds and have been neglected, no longer producing. In the cool months, I do a little cutting and weeding out small sapling trees. It is slow going, as I detest yard work. Eventually I hope to bring them back to their formal glory in honor of my momma.
Life is wonderful for country painters.....