Blueberries for Life

I was reading the wonderful children’s book, Blueberries for Sal, by Robert McCloskey, to my grandsons this morning… and it filled me to the brim with a beautiful slice of my own childhood.

Blueberry picking.  And just like in the book, blueberry picking in Maine.  No, I didn’t get all mixed up with  a mama bear and her cub, but I did get all wrapped up in the warmth and goodness of life’s moments… ones that shape us and ones that I hope find my grandchildren and wrap them up in as well.

I was nine years old.  I lived in New Hampshire.  My mother had a cousin, Loretta, who had a daughter exactly my age.  My mom and Loretta had grown up as very best friends, and when we visited my  Nana in Boston (where Loretta still lived), my mom and Loretta tried to fit in a visit.   It was during one of these visits that my mom and Loretta set up a 2-week visit for me at Loretta’s family’s summer cottage in York Beach, Maine.

I was shy to leave home at that time and was filled with both excitement and dread at this little adventure an hour-and-a-half or so north of my home.  I remember Loretta saying that the nights were cool and that we’d be spending lots of time outdoors.  So my mom packed lots of clothing into my little suitcase and off she, my dad and I drove to this mysterious East Coast town.

The first night, I was awfully homesick.  I slept in the top bunk of a set of bunkbends and tried not to cry.  But I did.  And to make matters worse, a huge thunderstorm had settled right over our York Beach cottage roof, and I can still feel the cottage trembling.  I wanted to go home.

But sleep finally held me tight, and morning came with the most glorious sun steaming through the windows.  I could smell pancakes.  (I would soon discover that we would have pancakes each morning… and you guessed it, blueberry pancakes.)   And no sooner did I take my first bite of pancakes when Loretta’s husband’s two sisters came bursting through the door with buckets and baskets and baskets and buckets.

We were going blueberry picking.

I had never met these women, but I fell instantly in love.  They were joyous and warm and huggy and perfect.  They were wonderful.  I would learn that Loretta’s husband’s whole clan had cottages in York Beach, Maine… and families blended like, well, blueberries in pancakes.

I had never been blueberry picking before.  Right after breakfast, we all took a bucket or a basket and we walked along the dirt roads, still wet with the rain, until we came to a place where, I think, blueberries were born.  Everywhere I looked, there were blueberries.  High.  Low.  Thick.  Luscious.

And we picked (and ate) blueberries in the warm morning sun, just like Sal.  Plink Plank Plunk. The aunts laughed and hugged some more.  The kids laughed and hugged back.  And I wasn’t as homesick.

When we were done, we dragged our blueberries home, and then the aunts prepared for the making of the pies.  I got lost in flour and sugar and pie crust and blueberries.  I got wrapped up in a memory that still makes me warm and happy…

When I think back to those couple of weeks in Maine, I see the ocean and lobsters and seashells and the on-going carnival up the dirt path.  I see cousins and their aunts and Loretta smiling the whole time.  I see cotton candy and salt water taffy twisting in the window.  I see pails and shovels and screened in front porches.  I still hear those unmistakable screen-door slams.  I see cottages that tilt in the wind and shudder in thunderstorms.

But most of all… I see blueberries.  I will always love blueberries because of that one morning in Maine.

I only hope that the sounds of blueberries going “plink plank plunk” will some day fill my grandchildren with the same wonder and joy.  And memories.

About Audrey

Audrey McClelland has been a digital influencer since 2005. She’s a mom of 5 and shares tips on her three favorite things: parenting, fashion and beauty. She’s also a Contemporary Romance Author.

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11 Comments

  1. 5.17.09
    Erin said:

    What a wonderful memory, Sharon. I could almost taste the blueberry pancakes. I want to thank you so much for sharing this, because it brought to mind my own memories that are tied in with blueberry picking.
    Growing up, we went blueberry picking every summer at a nearby farm. We’d leave with our hands and tongues blues from all the blueberries we ate, and I always knew that my mom would make a fresh blueberry pie soon, not to mention all the blueberry pancakes. Believe it or not, I have never missed a summer of blueberry picking. After getting married, Shane and I started meeting my parents for blueberry picking, first just the two of us, then eventually wearing Luke in the baby carrier. With this baby due in mid-July (blueberry time in Northwest Indiana!), I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make this year… but you can bet that I’m going to try!

  2. 5.17.09
    Heather said:

    Ahh, the memories! You really have such a beautiful way with words, Sharon. I read this and was imagining myself there right along with you. I’ve always wanted to visit Maine and you gave me a chance 🙂

  3. 5.17.09
    Jennifer said:

    Great post. Blueberries for Sal was one of my all-time favorite books as a kid. I have already bought it for my girls even though they’re not quite old enough for it yet. Am dying to start reading it to them, though! If you haven’t done “Bread and Jam for Frances” it’s another personal fave!

  4. 5.17.09
    Nadine said:

    You have such beautiful memories of life. Such richness to pass on to your grandchildren – what blessed children they are.

  5. 5.17.09

    Love this. Love love love.

  6. 5.18.09

    Great book, great post, great memories.

  7. 5.18.09
    Connie said:

    Sharon, you carry your readers with you on your wonderful adventures into memoryland. These should be gathered in a book. They are as worthy and memorable as “Blueberries for Sal.”

  8. 5.18.09
    Nancy B. said:

    You reminded me that it really is the simple things in life that create the most wonderful and lasting memories. Thanks for sharing this beautiful post, Sharon. I can only hope to create such lovely memories for my own children.

  9. 5.18.09

    Oh Sharon, I LOVE your stories about your childhood memories. I could hear the slamming of the screen door while reading. Blueberries hold a special meaning as well for me. Before my mother-in-law passed away we use to go picking on a farm in Indiana. I still have that special large pot with the wooden handle that we took to pick. When I get it out to make stews or soups, I can sometimes still see the blueberry stains. You are creating such wonderful memories for your own grand-children. They are so so blessed to have you Sharon. You are one in a million! Oh, and I could even smell those blueberry pancakes!

  10. 5.19.09
    Barry said:

    Great memories Honey. You certainly have been the impetus for our family. Thanks to you, we have all learned to cherish the simple things in life. And realize how important traditions are to a family.

  11. 5.20.09
    Chrissy said:

    Sharon, I love all of your wonderful memories. I always feel just like I’m there – I have no trouble at all picturing the lush fields of blueberries, Loretta’s husband’s lovable sisters, or the way the kitchen must have looked filled with pies and spots of flour. So many of your memories seem like the makings of your own children’s books!

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