Wait, Those Are Blueberries?

Scott woke up and rolled to the side of the bed. He sat up and looked around, not entirely sure of where he was. He didn't really recognize anything. Then he remembered that he wasn't at home. He was in New York with his mom and sisters. They were visiting the Buckingham family. He and his sisters had spent the night in a guest cabin that was available for their use. He stretched and got dressed before groggily making his way through the small building in search of his mom. He found his mother in the kitchenette fixing herself a cup of coffee and both of his sisters sitting at the table.

Scott poured himself a cup of coffee and added some non-dairy creamer. He tentatively took a sip and sat down across from Kelsey.

“So,” Scott addressed his mother. “What are we going to do today?”

“Well,” Christa replied with a smile. “As soon as you've had enough coffee to function, we're going to head over to the house for breakfast. After that, we'll just have to wait and see what the Buckinghams have in store for us.”

“I can function now,” Scott declared through a particularly strong yawn. 

“Sure you can, sweetie,” Christa smiled. “Just finish your coffee and we'll head out.”

Scott finished his coffee as requested and the whole family piled into the van to head over to the house. They got to the house and piled back out and made their way into the house for breakfast. Breakfast was a flurry of activity as due to the large number of people present. Afterwards, he dishes were collected in the kitchen. Someone started washing the dishes while other members of the two families set about cleaning up the breakfast mess. Christa directed Scott to dry the dishes so he wandered into the kitchen and found a dish towel. He picked up a plate and ran the towel over it and set it on the counter as he didn't know where anything went.

“Hey Scotty,” Lolly greeted the towel wielding Henning. “We don't actually dry our dishes because we dirty them so quickly. You can just go play outside with Jimmy and Daniel if you'd like. We'll get the dishes cleaned up”

“Are you sure?” Scott questioned. 

“Yup,” Martha interjected from the doorway.

Scott shrugged and dropped the towel on the table on his way outside.

“Scott!” Christa exclaimed from the dining room. “What do you think you're doing? I told you to dry the dishes.”

“But mom,” Scott stammered. “They said they don't dry the dishes. They said I could go play.”

“Really?” Christa responded skeptically. “I'm gonna check on that. You stay put for now.”

Scott waited impatiently as his mother stuck her head into the kitchen to verify his tall tale. He heard the back and forth between his mother and Aunt Martha. 

“Scott says you don't dry the dishes. Is that true?” Christa asked.

“Oh yes,” Martha replied. “With a family of ten, we dirty them so fast it's hardly worth the bother to dry them.”

“Well,” Christa chuckled. “Here I thought he was just pulling my leg.” She returned to the porch where Scott was waiting, “I guess you're good to go.”

Scott turned on his heel and joined the Buckingham brothers at the rope swing. The rope swing hung from a large oak tree in front of the house. The tree was rooted in the soil at the bottom of a small embankment that dropped off in front of the house. There were a few stone steps that allowed a person to walk down to the lower part of the yard without fear of falling. The rope had a board attached to the bottom that could be sat on, so the children would stand on the edge of the embankment, straddle the rope and jump off. The rider would enjoy a quick descent as the swing followed a broad arc out and back.

They all thoroughly enjoyed the rope swing with the occasional exception of Scott. He did enjoy the swing. The problem was that Scott was significantly heavier than the other riders which made the rope stretch slightly and it caused the limb to which the rope was attached to sag a little more than it did for other riders. The problem that arose due to these unforeseen factors was that Scott's feet would hang lower than anyone else's which allowed them to strike the rock steps when the young man wasn't paying attention. And Scott had a very well developed habit of not paying attention. (Scott still has a well developed habit of not paying attention as his lovely wife can attest.) After a few painful incidents and a threat from his mother to have his rope swing privileges revoked, he learned to pay enough attention to keep his feet up.

“Hey kids,” Martha called from the front porch. “If we had some blueberries to work with, we could have blueberry muffins. Do you want to go blueberry picking?”

There was agreement of various levels among the children so they collected various containers in preparation for the task ahead. The Hennings were quite accustomed to blueberry picking. They went to Wades Fruit Farm on a regular basis during berry season. The children didn't always find it to be the most exhilarating activity and often made this fact known to their mother. Christa would have nothing to do with their hesitation on this particular day. She lead by example with her trademark over-exuberance which sent a clear message to her children. They were going to pick blueberries and they were going to be happy about it.

“Okay,” Christa began. “So, I'll follow you guys.”

“Oh no, Christa,” Martha explained. “We pick our blueberries in the woods. We don't go to a berry patch because we have blueberries that grow wild.”

“Oh,” Christa replied. “Well, I guess you still lead the way.”

With that, the two families struck out on their mission of gathering berries for the masses. The Buckingham family lead the way through the woods. They followed well established paths through the trees branching off occasionally in search of the small bushes that bore the blueberries. The air in the woods was cool as the leafy canopy overhead shielded the berriers from the hot summer sun. Squirrels scampered away from the group of people and shot up nearby trees where they sat perched on branches and scolded the hikers for disturbing their home. Their angry chatter along with the summer song of fluttering birds was the soundtrack of the berrying quest. Finally, after about thirty minutes of searching, one of the children raised the alarm. They had found blueberries.

“Over here,” Jimmy called guiding the others. “We found a whole bunch of them.”

“Sweet,” Kelsey exclaimed as everyone rushed to where the boys were already picking.

There, a couple feet off the path, were six or seven small bushes that were just under two feet tall. The small branches were dotted with dainty little berries about the size of a pencil eraser. Jimmy and Daniel were already picking the berries off the bush two or three at a time and dropping them into a bucket. Scott approached the bushes and paused.

“Wait a minute,” he interjected. “Are you guys sure these are blueberries?”

“Yup,” Jimmy replied as he dropped a few more berries into his bucket. “Want to taste one to be sure?”

“They're just so tiny,” Scott declared as he picked a berry off the bush and popped it into his mouth. “I guess you're right. When we pick blueberries at home, their as big around as a dime, sometimes as big as a nickle. Is this always what you get when you pick blueberries?”

“Yes it is,” Christina replied with a smile. “They're wild blueberries so they're small and it gets a little colder in the winter than in Ohio and spring comes a little later, so the bushes don't get as big and the berries are smaller.”

“Okie dokie,” Scott shrugged his shoulders. “I guess we just have to pick more than I thought.”

The dual family berry party trekked through the woods for well over two hours searching for and picking the wild blueberries until they had enough for their intended purpose. The whole experience was completely different from what the Henning four had expected. Even Christa had to agree that she had something different in mind when she had so enthusiastically agreed to go berry picking. The whole crew had a good time all the same. 

“I suppose the thing to remember when picking wild blueberries,” Christa surmised between breaths, “is that it's more about enjoying the time with the berry pickers than actually picking the berries.