Not Enough Blueberries
by Mary E Lacey, Desertrat
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Which is best? The beauty of yesterday, or convenience of today.
A glorious autumn afternoon, on that
fateful day, the dying leaves of beauty
were falling to the ground. As we
walked along the forest’s floor, it was brimming
with colorful leaves. And as we took every step,
a crackling crunch beneath our feet.
Sis and I were walking around the sunlit
woods, picking blueberries so Mom could bake a pie.
We walked passed the babbling
brook, and listened to the singing birds in the sky.
As we walked along, our baskets
filling up, I looked at the bluish purple
berries and thought I’d eat just one.
As I took a bite, delicious nectar filled
my thirsty mouth, a delectable treat, sweet but
sour too. I handed one to Sis, and said,
“Here, this is for you” Being older than me
she scolded with a little “a hem” sound.
We’ll never get enough of these if you
keep wolfing them down!
We walked some more, I felt a little
mad, for her putting me in my place.
But when I looked up at her, blue
was all over her face!
We walked and picked berries, and
ate almost every one, than when we
got home we realized what we had done.
Mom looked at our empty baskets, and
asked us where we’d been. She snapped
and looked at us, “Speak, I want to know!
We lied and said the vines were empty,
no berries to be found. She folded her arms
and looked at us in her special way, and said,
“stick out your tongues”.
Of course the blue ruined our plans, she
said in anger “no pie tonight, go wash your hands”
But isn’t it grand, kids today don’t have to worry about such things. No pesky leaves around falling in their hair, no walking in some
stupid woods, with blueberries staining their hands. No lousy singing
birds, to drown out the music with the ipods they have. And Mom doesn’t worry about messy blueberries anymore, just rev up the car and take a quick run to the grocery store.
If you could have a fresh baked blueberry pie, which one would it be? Fresh berries that stained your tongue, or one baked by Sarah Lee?
Mary E. Lacey
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|Reviewed by D. Vegas
|I'll have a fresh baked blueberry pie from fresh berries that stained
your tongue...Great write.
|Reviewed by Peter Adotey Addo
|Ahhh Blueberries ...you just reminded me of picking some very tasty and wild blueberries on our fishing trips ... and in the woods ..they seemed to taste much much better than the store bought ones .. ..what memories.. Thanks so much.|
|Reviewed by George Carroll
|Fresh of course and let's hope there will still be blueberry bushes and you can't fool old mom can you?|
|Reviewed by OnepoetGem *the Poetic Rapper
|good one Mary, home baked is better, of course Sarah lee isn't bad, hope your mothers day was great, cheers|
|Reviewed by Swan Son
|I like your poem, Mary .... it reminds me of times my cousins and I went blackberry picking at my aunt's summer house in Mahopac, New York. Being city kids this was "real country" to us ... high up in the hills where you could see forever. Whenever I see fresh berries I remember our times blackberry picking -- getting stuck by all those pesky thorns -- no - Sarah Lee never tasted as good! Susan|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|This reminds me of when we used to go and pick "saskatoons" (a form of wild blueberry) in the woods of northern Alberta. A delightful sharing, Mary. Thank you. Love and best wishes,
|Reviewed by Jon Willey
|--it's fresh blueberries for me -- picking them a chore -- eating them, a treat -- bluberries, a great story of a more innocent time --may your basket be filled with blueberries and your tummy too! -- JMW|
|Reviewed by Connie Faust
|Your little essay at the end is enough to make me cry for "the old days." I enjoy many of the real treasures of life, living where I do, but I feel bad for the kids who've never experienced them.
This is a great story.
|Reviewed by Todd-Michael St. Pierre
|Not Sara Lee, I concur, I agree, self-picked is the one for me, children need dirt on their hands and rain in their hair and should be taught the joys of making mud-pies, it strengthens their natural immunity and it's just plain fun too! For crying out loud, let them play with bugs and get a sticker in their foot occasionally... you can't protect them from everything! Great job Mary!|
|Reviewed by Michael Guy
|I had a childhood just like yours on "rural Long Island" Empty lots and woods just teeming with "huckleberries" We picked containers full of them for mom to make tarts... I knew there was something about you I liked right off (well you actually came to my site first)
And your intro sentence and footnote comment MAKE A GREAT STATEMENT of
facts sadly all too true. I wish the young would read this.
Later (stay in "your paradise", michael
|Reviewed by Karen Palumbo
|A most wonderful story to share and leaves me thinking of both past and present....
Be always safe,
|Reviewed by Shedding Light
|You make a great point. You had times with your
sister picking blueberries that you will never
forget. This is a very innocent and beautiful
Harold M. Nash
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|No contest, Mary, the picking wins every time, the experience, the sheer indulgence will outstrip and outshine any tin or can or Sarah Lee. Great point of view here.
|Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
|I love blueberries, Mary; thanks for taking me back!
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
|Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
|Would rather have the ones picked with love, put in a pie with love, baked with love, served with love - with a dollop of vanilla ice cream given in love. Sigh. I miss the good ole days - these young whippersnappers don't know what good food is! :( Excellent write, Mary.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|Those days may return, only this time, Mom will make sure that little girls taste only one or two and the pie will be baked in the waning sun.
|Reviewed by Edwin Hurdle
|This is a very delightful and refreshing poem about blueberries.I enjoy reading it.I like eating yogurt with blueberries or any other berries with them.take care
|Reviewed by Lois Christensen
|I love fresh berry pies. Mom used to sit out on back porch in summertime seeding sour cherries, then would go in a bake delicious pies in the hot house, no air conditioning in those days.|
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Give me fresh every time, and thanks for this wonderful delightful poem. It took me back too!;-)...ET|