Yesterday, I made Saskatoon jam, and it
reminded me of my parents. They used to go picking every summer, and
then my mom would put up a batch of wild blueberry jam.
I remember picking with them. I hated
it. I would get hot and sun burned, and usually make myself sick from
eating too many berries. And when we would all gather for the picnic
after we finished picking, I would have the fewest blueberries in my
pail.
It's funny but I think those are my
fondest memories now. I imagine we did a multitude of things as a
family, but only a few stand out in my mind, and berry picking is one
of them. Sometimes, my dad would bring along his 22 and we would
practice shootings at beer cans after lunch.
I wasn't much of a shot then or now,
but I am a better picker. I still eat lots of berries when I pick,
so much so, that I can't quite meet the eyes of the people at the
upick places when we weigh out.
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