Picking blueberries

Adding to our list of first-time adventures, Sawyer and I went blueberry picking this week.

You’d think that I would never voluntarily pick fruit in a field again, after our experience strawberry picking last summer. But the News & Record’s annual “the berries are ready” story and photo package did me in. The bushes looked like they were just covered in blue beauties. And they’re tall. So I figured we wouldn’t have to stoop over the whole time.

Plus they’re way cheaper than buying berries at the grocery store (or even the farmers’ market), and I have grown to love blueberries in the summer. Sawyer used to eat so many that I thought he’d turn blue, but he doesn’t like them as much now.

Anyway, after the glorious photos ran in the paper, I decided this was something we needed to try. I convinced my friend Margaret to come along, and we headed north to Rockingham County to Honey Sweet blueberry farm, which I thought would be like a commercial farm.

We pulled up at someone’s house. Unsure we were at the right place, we decided to check it out. There were a few more cars, and we had passed tons of signs for blueberry picking. There was a small handmade sign on the garage that told the prices and the hours for blueberry picking, so we headed on back. 

Sawyer was running around, ready to hit the fields. There were rows and rows of blueberry bushes. Most were close to 6 feet tall, well above my head. And they had these neat paper lantern-type globes flying above each row.

We talked to the owner and admired his cute dog (who wasn't too keen on small children and steered clear of us). We got giant black buckets and he told us to pick as many as we wanted. Sawyer got his own little basket but had little interest in carrying it after the first three minutes.  

The farmer pointed us in the direction of the ripest berries, and we set off to pick.

I will admit: Picking blueberries was probably easier than strawberries but still not easy. There’s definitely a reason you pay more to have someone pick them — it’s time-consuming, labor-intensive work. 

The branches are scratchy; bees (and not just the friendly bumbly kind) are everywhere. With the sun high overhead, we were sweating in no time. Between rows of tall bushes in the middle of someone’s backyard field, there was no breeze and little shade. 

But we managed to have fun. Sawyer ran around, hiding behind bushes and popping out to surprise us. Remarkably, he picked quite a lot of berries. And he didn’t eat any of them since he “doesn’t like blueberries.” He got hot and antsy, but he managed to stay with us the whole time without melting down. 

The hat didn't last long, despite how much we were sweating.

Margaret picked her fill and then helped us fill our basket. We topped off a whole gallon of them.

After a Sawyer made a trip to the port-a-potty, we noticed they had a field of sunflowers. So on our way to return our now-overflowing baskets to the stand, we took a detour through the tall, bright flowers.

The scrunched up face? He's sniffing the flowers. 

When we made it to the farmstand, we paid the farmer for our berries, and I inquired about a vase of sunflowers sitting nearby. (The website had said the farm also sold flowers.) I wanted to buy a few. But the man acted like they weren’t for sale. Instead, he gave each of us one for free (which was very nice even though I wanted to buy several).

It was a fun outing. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with so many berries; I figure my freezer will be well stocked until next summer. And maybe we'll go again ... on a cooler day.