Blueberry Pickin'

You step out of your car into the warm, sun-filtered air of a summer evening. The little feet of children patter with fading sounds of laughter into neat rows of green before you, their buckets clinking as they bounce. The welcoming sight of verdant mounds dotted with white, pink and blue opens before your eyes, and you drink it in with the peaceful satisfaction that only God's creation can give. The few tasks of the hour are to wander, select, taste, smile, and fill. As the sun dips lower in the sky, and the buckets droop, heavy with bounty, your heart can only desire to stretch the time into

one more hour,

one more minute,

one more moment.

Hopers dancing in the field after eating every blueberry she met. As for her bucket? Ne'er the twain shall meet.

Jeremy guards the blueberries.

Elaine and I agree: The best berries are found deep inside the bush.

Blueberry picking can also be dangerous. Noodle barely escaped that berry branch alive! Her hair-do, however, shall rest in peace.

Lisette and her food-safety-tester, Michael.

Berry Buddies.

(Nichole, Hopers, Jeremy, Noodle)