Wild Blueberry Fields Forever

It's that time of year...for gathering blueberries! It did catch me off guard and it arrived earlier than normal. My blueberry supply wasn't depleted from last year yet and I wondered if I could find room in my small freezer. But I had to go.....It is tradition. 

As a small child I learned the value of hard work procuring the wonderful fruit. Our whole family would spend countless hours filling our buckets with berries. It wasn't only limited to blueberries though, as we picked whatever kind of berries were ripe. 

Growing up, we spent most all of our summers at our cottage on Lake Roland, one of the Twin Lakes in Houghton County, Michigan. It was less than 20 miles from our year round home and actually closer to our Dad's work. We were so lucky!

We never had to go far to find berries. I don't ever remember using a car as we just walked in almost any direction from our cottage and we could find them. 

My favorite place though, was the island that was just off to the side of our cottage. We had to take our small wooden row boat to get there and that added to the fun. 

In those years the island was unoccupied and an abandoned home was the only residence. I remember thinking that the place was haunted probably due to the condition of the rundown house. 

I loved going over there though, as it was a magical place full of blueberry bushes that no one bothered to pick other than us. I really think my affinity for islands comes from these early experiences too.

Back at camp again, Mom would whip out blueberry pies and jams galore and we were in heaven. When I was 19, my parents sold the cottage and Dad continued to find different other areas to pick. He always found a supply and later was blessed to be invited to Wendy's (friend of my brothers) place on Lake Superior the last few years of his life. 

Dad's enthusiasm for berry collecting never ended for 88 years even though his hands were swollen and crawling around on the ground was no doubt hard on him. His smile though said it all, he was pleased to be able to do it regardless.

The last time I picked berries with my Dad was after a backpacking trip of 13 days to Isle Royale National Park. My brother, sister-in-law and Dad picked me up from the seaplane and took me directly to the berry field. At the time I thought, "a shower would be nice", but what the heck?  

So I find myself in the woods picking berries each year with the same satisfaction that I learned as a child. Sure my back hurts after several hours, the bugs bite and the sun is hot...but oh, the berries!!! I reflect on this tradition in our family and hope to be able to pass this on to my new granddaughter, Emma, when she is old enough. In the meantime, I often return to the woods to find more.