There
is an abandoned field a few miles from our home that has sat for twenty years
or more without attention. It is up high with views that go for miles. Friends
of ours live across the valley and we can see there home. The place is spectacular.
Blueberries
grow wild in this field, the lowbush variety. Weeds compete for space and trees
are slowly creeping in from the forest edges. The blueberries established
patches in the grass, but trees are trying to poke up through. Someday the trees
will win and the land will return to forest.
For
years we have picked blueberries in this field. Blueberries grow on our own
property, but somehow it is more fun to pick were the view goes on forever and
bears and birds compete for the fruit. On one side a manmade pond is tucked
against the woods. It has a footprint about the size of a small home and the
dogs love to swim in it when the weather is warm.
Today
they barely swam at all. The temperature struggled to hit seventy and clouds
hid what would have been a hot sun. A gusty west wind kept the deer flies and
mosquitoes at bay. It turned out to be a perfect day for picking blueberries.
Two
grouse flew into the woods while we picked. Obviously, their nerves couldn’t
take the dogs and humans in their blueberry patch. Mollie, our younger dog,
stopped to point in one of the patches, but no bird was found. It had to be residual
bird scent from before the bird walked off.
