In blueberrying, it pays to be patient, and not to take it all too seriously.First, select a good dayñcool, maybe cloudy, but unlikely to bring rain. (If the day is hot, your crew will wear shorts and short-sleeve shirts. You might as well post a billboard for the bugs, advertising your walking meat market.) Long pants and shoes protect against bugs, and coarse brush. If you like bug spray, this is the time to use it.
Landing your boat at the foot of blueberry hill, you will find among your group the following disagreeable persons:
ï The spendthrift. This person carries a can, but for show only. Every berry goes directly into the mouth. There is no shame until the end of the session, when all are asked to pour their contributions into the common pot.
ï The saver. This person eats nary a berry. Everything that resembles a blueberry, be it green, black, white, or moldy, goes into the can. The result is a prodigious heap at the reckoning, but also a nightmare of sorting. Maybe half of this personís take will be edible.
ï The quitter. Here is the wimp who gives up too soonñafter the first bruising fall through the brush, the first encounter with a bear, the first hundred mosquito bites, the first step into a beehive. This person is soon whimpering near the boat, with an eye toward home.
ï The zealot. Loudly announce that the agreed-upon hour of picking is over. Collect everyone elseís berries. Get in the boat, and start the engine. Yell that you have spotted a ferocious wolf pack. None of this will availñthe zealot is still picking. There is no hope for this personality disorder. Next time, have this person come in a separate boat.
Try to remember what a nice, cohesive group this wasñbefore you went blueberrying. Your solace will be delicious pancakes, bread, muffins, or best of all, plain blueberries in a bowl.
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