I have sat down to write half a dozen times in the past week but have not formed a single sentence. Jeff and I are a tad bit tired, yes, but mostly we are short on words.
It is impossible to describe the outpouring of enthusiasm from the community. The universal adoration of all things blueberry! It is much more than we expected. It is everything we would have hoped for if we’d had the audacity to hope for something (which we didn’t). We have been laser-focused on getting to opening day. I'm not sure either of us thought much beyond that.
And suddenly here we are - open for the pick your own season! At 8 AM on July 3 our hearts pounded as the first car rolled in. And six cars followed. Then more. And more.
In the short time since opening day, Jeff and I have met so many kind and welcoming neighbors who have been picking berries at the farm for years. We are humbled by being so new here. We love to hear your stories.
We have fielded questions about bears and birds, cheesecake and honey, vines and berry varieties. We are humbled by how much we still have to learn.
We have lifted coolers of berry pints and jugs of ice water. Our “vacation” carry-on bags now hold pancake mix and granola. We have walkie talkies clipped on our shorts and speak in the clipped tones of air traffic controllers - “on it” “got three coming to south” “36 pints are in.” We bounce around in golf carts. Two weeks ago we weren’t doing any of this. Now we are doing all of this.
The blueberry bushes stand by quietly. No fanfare. No judgement. I overheard a child say “the bushes are magic!” And they are. There is no other explanation. Buckets are filled and carried out all day, ten pounds or more at a time, and yet – improbably – there are more berries every day.
Feeling grateful, humble, and at a loss for words.
Comments