Maine Exploring / Picking Blueberries!

This is the first year Michael and I have been in Maine since our wedding seven years ago, and I’ve really missed blueberry season in Maine all these years. The weird thing is that this week’s adventure blueberry picking was probably the first time anyone in my family has gone blueberry picking. We’ve all gone strawberry picking over the years, but for some reason blueberry picking never made the list. Maybe because by the time blueberry season came around, we were always getting ready for pre-season sports or stocking up on school supplies.

So why I got it in my head that this summer’s activity would be blueberry picking is really beyond me. But when Michael and I were driving through a neighboring town last week we noticed a little sign by the side of the road that read, “U-pick Blueberries, Not Sprayed”, scrawled in blue marker. Over the weekend, Michael, my dad and I went to investigate. Long story short, we had a blast and came home with three pints of giant ripe blueberries.  We followed the signs along a bumpy country road for about a mile until we were directed to pull into a driveway, where we found this little sign. The raspberries were all picked for the year, but we picked up a few pint boxes for our blueberries and put our payment into the little tapioca container honesty box. Just as fervently as I insisted we go blueberry picking this year, I insisted we bring our ancient blue Volvo, which we have always called the Blueberry. I just thought it was fitting, like it was fulfiling its destiny! My parents gave me the Blueberry when I was a senior in college and it’s the cosiest. The heat warms up so fast and hot in the winter, although of course in the summer there is no air conditioning and the windows are the old manual roll down ones. For as long as I can remember, we’ve been a Volvo family, although this is our oldest of the Volvo fleet at the moment. I think it’s actually eligible for antique plates at this point!  I loved the way the field of blueberries was overrun with Queen Anne’s Lace flowers. They’re one of my grandmother’s favorites. Maine blueberries are typically low bush blueberries, but this was a whole field of high bush blueberries. Much easier on your back, and much easier to fill up a pint container! Low bush blueberries are teeny tiny and are usually picked with machines, unless your name is Sal. Happy camper or what?! We’d all just taken a break from working around the house doing chores to get ready for my sister’s wedding this weekend, so we’re a little scruffy!  My dad taste-tested a lot of the blueberries, just to make sure. Caught ya, Dad!  The farmers were haying the field next to the blueberries that morning. It was very quaint and picturesque.  While I was taking millions of photos of blueberries, Michael and my Dad were all ready to take the Blueberry and their blueberries home.  See? The blueberries are the exact color as the Blueberry! I’ve been eating blueberries by the handful, but Michael decided at 10pm last night that he was going to make a blueberry cheesecake with a bunch of them. I can’t wait to have it for lunch!

If you’re in the neighborhood, we picked at Locust Farm, just off Route 137 on the right if you’re driving east from Albion.