This piece was written about 18 years ago and was my first "acceptance" by a nondescript, now probably defunct, magazine. It was printed in their "nostalgia" section. I left it pretty much as it was originally printed...grammatical errors and all, changing the wording just a tad here and there. So please accept it as that...a novice writers early attempt.

This is a true story in all aspects and one of my fondest childhood memories. I was the "baby" of the family at the time (about 5 years old). A year later there would be a brother and 7 years after that, a second brother.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



It would come. As surely as autumn would bring the colored leaves, and winter would bring the snow, and spring the new, green grass...it would come.

We would wait through long, hot summer days of chasing butterflies and picking flowers. We would wait...and then one day in August, Mama would say, "Tonight after supper, we will go up to the mountain".

The "mountain" was a wooded elevation beyond the pine trees surrounding our home, layered here and there with rock ledges. Along the way, we would find white birch trees, their peeling bark perfect for making tiny doll-size canoes. We would stand on enormous rocks and view the neighboring farms in the distance. And, at the very top, there would be blueberries!

On the evening of Mama's announcement, we would all gather in the kitchen. Father would be armed with Mama's big, battered potato pot, Mama carried a white enamel pan, speckled black here and there where it had chipped, and my two older sisters would be given pans of smaller size. Being the youngest, I carried a small measuring cup.

We would make a fine procession trudging up the dirt road and into the woods, at first laughing and shouting, then tiptoeing, as stories were told of how the early settlers lived right here years ago and were now buried under the rocks. Yes, yes they were...see their toes sticking out? I saw white tree roots...or were they?

Onward and upward, until we came to a cluster of low bushes laden with berries of deep, soft blue. It amazed me how Mama and father could ever fill such huge containers, while my measuring cup seemed to never get full. I suspect tasting every other berry had something to do with it. When I gathered a fair amount, I would carry it to Mama's or Father's pot , dump it in, and return to another bush.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, our procession headed back down the trail to home, where Mama washed all the berries. She held the notion that all the ones that floated to the top had worms in them and threw them away.

We hurried off to bed, scratching the mosquito bites we had gathered along with the berries, and knowing what tomorrow would bring.

After breakfast the next day, Mama took out her rolling pin, pastry board, and bin of flour. As she mixed the flour and shortening, I had the honor of sprinkling water over it very carefully..."just a little at a time," Mama would say. She rolled the dough into large circles and placed it into the waiting pie pans. After heaping them full of luscious blueberries sprinkled with sugar, she topped them with more crust. Taking a knife, Mama cut a "B" for blueberry in the top of each.

Soon the house was filled with the delicious aroma of fresh-baked pies. Then came the waiting...the waiting for the pies to cool, the waiting for Father to return from work, and the waiting for supper to be finished.

Then finally, finally, we all closed our eyes, savoring scrumptious mouthfuls of blueberry pie, knowing as certain as the leaves turned in autumn, the snow fell in the winter, and the grass grew greener in spring, there would be yet another blueberry summer.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, Flutter! ~ This brings to mind some very fond childhood memories and is so beautifully written! Thank you!

Awesome ! As a kid it was blackberry / raspberry summers on vacation in Illinois. When we gathered enough Grandma would make jelly ! The smell was incredibly strong and your write brought it back in full force. Bravo.

Lady flutter,

What a beautifully reminiscent story of time gone by. I can remember similar family ventures with strawberries and teaberries among other things. I guess my most overall sensory experience was going to my grandmother's (when she wasn't living with us) and the smell of warm gingerbread emanating from the kitchen. It was dark brown, full of raisins, very moist, and so spiced, that it almost "burned" with the taste and aroma of ginger. Sometimes she would make a vanilla sauce and others a sharp tangy lemon sauce which contrasted nice with the rich sweetness of the gingerbread. Drat! I wish I had her recipe today.....

It sounds as if you might have a treasure trove of such memories - please share more with us. You lead us all down the path back to childhood and some pleasant reveries.....

Gizmo, Me, and Galatea: It seems everyone has some "food related" childhood memory...either triggered by the aroma of something cooking/baking, or by enjoying picking tasty treats from Mother Nature's bounty. I'm glad this piece reminded you of some pleasant things from the past.

I have to share the following amusing anectdote which pertains to these lines from my reminiscence:

"As the sun dipped lower in the sky, our procession headed back down the trail to home, where Mama washed all the berries. She held the notion that all the ones that floated to the top had worms in them and threw them away."

My sister and I visited with our Mom 2 weeks ago and my sister brought a store-made blueberry pie for dessert. After tasting the first bite, I said "Mmmmm these taste like wild blueberries!" My mother (a tad hard of hearing) had her back turned fixing her coffee at the counter, and my sister said "Shhhh! Mom won't eat wild blueberries! She thinks they have worms in them!"

HAHA I had to laugh! After ALL those years she picked and enjoyed wild blueberries! Somewhere along the way she started picking the huge cultivated ones and I guess figured they wouldn't have worms in them. There IS a difference in taste...the wild ones being far more flavorful!

Thanks to all for taking time to read a longer piece on the site! FB

Longer piece? Didn't feel so... i got wrapped up and read it fast !
It would come.
-nice start, makes one think 'what would come?', then anticipate what is there to come in the story and read eagerly, then shows faith as one raeds the next line about the surity of autumn leaves etc. -- faith and a depdence on consistency.
I also like the matching ending, ...knowing as certain as the leaves turned in autumn, the snow fell in the winter, and the grass grew greener in spring, there would be yet another blueberry summer.

I also didn't notice (m)any grammatical mistakes, your headnote was an exaggeration , i find this to be a fine attempt.

"And, at the very top, there would be blueberries!"
-A child's fresh excitement reflected here.

"Being the youngest, I carried a small measuring cup."
heh

Yes, yes they were...see their toes sticking out?
-that was very cute. Children's imaginative mind .

I suspect tasting every other berry had something to do with it.
-I didn't get it... I think you implied that YOU tasted every other berry and thus your cup couldn't be filled?

As the sun dipped lower in the sky,
-Might be a simple thing but I like it when passage of time is indicated by natural movements.

"Then finally, finally,"
-that was cute, you have a fine, flowing and fresh expression (/flair).

A delightful read... b/c of the treasured memory.. the simple appeal of it...one of my faves by you, well-written as well.

Interesting to know y'all have related memories too, above repliers. If I think ahead I guess among the foody memories some might be of eating mengoes Indian-ishtyle... now in front of guests and all I eat with spoon/fork, those small-cut mangoes, however when we're just family, we eat... savagely, and rapturously [cut into three halves, suck the loaves as well as seed dry ].

Galatea, the recipe might be lost (though you should try hit-and-trial method works sometimes! You mgiht discover a new recepe for your grandson too... ) yet it's good you savour the taste in your mind .

Flutterbug, you actually make ME want to taste those worms... I am usually a bit too, finicky/hygenic, still .

'Blueberry Summers' is a nice, nostalgic, lovely title! Ihope there are many more blueberry summers for y'all .


Thanks for sharing, y'all!
--------
A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person.
~Dave Barry, Dave Barry turns 50 (Crown)

Burp!...pardon me. You must have known homemade blueberry pie is a favourite of mine…I drooled through the entire writing. I never had the nerve to steal one of them cooling pies from the window sill; however, I’m sure that’s why I’m still around today…hehehheh! Great piece of writing here FB, I loved every morsel of it.

“ Lionheart
~

Thank you, "Share" (thanks, Jack! GREAT nickname for LWAS!) Glad you enjoyed it! As far as these lines:

"Yes, yes they were...see their toes sticking out?
-that was very cute. Children's imaginative mind .

This refers to the parents telling the children "spooky" tales as they were walking...

and your question on this:

'I suspect tasting every other berry had something to do with it.'
"-I didn't get it... I think you implied that YOU tasted every other berry and thus your cup couldn't be filled?""

Yes, that was exactly what I implied

Thank you so much for reading and commenting.


Lionheart Mmmmmm yes! I'd have to say homemade blueberry pie is my absolute favo(u)rite dessert! ( heheh yeah, I think you would have been that mischievous type that would want to sneak pies off the window sill! )
Thank you for stopping by to read!

What a wonderful memory!! There is nothing like childhood memories and the moments of the past that are preserved! I thoroughly enjoyed your "Blueberry Summer" Flutterbug. A story well written and wonderfully told!!!

~Colly

flutter,

You have penned this wonderful memory very well indeed. These are the moments in one's life that lead to the makings of traditions. Our family has them as well, but they involve toilet paper, duct tape, flash lights, and a lot of sneaking around in the dark. Maybe I'll explain that one some day, but trust me when I say it is a family tradition and one that is counted on year after year.

Here's to blueberry summers and all the little things that make life worth living.


Thanks for the warm feeling flutter, and for the reminder to stock up on flashlight batteries!

Flutterbug this is a true joy to read. I found myself smiling all the way through it.

Colly,LaJ, and justawesome:

I'm glad this reminiscence brought you some pleasure...each time I relive it in my mind, it brings me much joy, too. Hmmm...think I'll pick some blueberries this weekend. Yum!

I absolutely cannot believe it has been FOUR years since I posted this piece, but it is yet another August, so I will take the liberty of bumping it up for those who have not read it. I just revisited the old family home and was allowed by the current owner to ramble on the 5 acres of woods to reminisce...hence this story came back to mind.

I'm hoping one day soon to see a reappearance of my muse~~a chaotic time in my life at present, so when a quieter time arrives, I hope my muse rides in on its coattails!

~~flutter~~

Flutter this made me feel all fuzzy all over. What great memories you have and to share them with us gives us a chance to live them with you, thanks J.

This couldn’t have come at a better time; for the past two week-ins I have been picking blackberries and making jelly. There are more up there but I’m all jellied out.

Jack

YUMMMMM!!! That is a wonderful story Flutter. What a great memory to have.
Do you still bake blueberry pie???
Kat