bloobs

it's been a long, cold, wet spring. today was the first day of triple digit temperatures. the sky was ruddy and the sierra nevada mountain range, tho still packed with winter snow, was invisible hiding as they were behind and beneath a scrim of smog. we went up the hill anyway, to apple hill, a sequence of wineries and orchards nestled at the bottom of the sierra nevada to pick blueberries.

call it a stereotype. call it what you will. but if you are, or happen to be in love with, a swedish person you will experience that peculiar swedish need to pick berries. i understand swedes in the motherland drive in the countryside with empty baskets just in case a promising bush steers into view. all hands on deck the swede will pull to the side of the road, pick up the basket and head into the interior ready to find the most ripe, the most luscious, the most mouthwatering grip of berries to be found on earth.

it's no exception in california. apple hill also is home to a couple of blueberry farms. the bloobs come into season late june and the season lasts for just a few weeks. blueberries require hot, dry weather to ripen into fullness. the bloobs on the bushes today needed a couple more weeks of hot dry weather to fully ripen. instead of berries leaping off the plants and into our buckets like they did last year, we must search a bit harder for the purple ones.

berry picking requires a patience and an aptitude for manual labor. even if one is possessed of both qualities it is damn hard to maintain one's composure when the temperature is at 11:00 am 88 degrees f. it's going to be a hot fucking day. it was. the crickets were chirring in the tall grass. but even they gave a sound of indolence that said, it's too damn hot even for love. we picked nearly 3 lbs of berries before sweating to a stop. nicholas was in full swing and found the farm's cat, all plump and mewing, ready for a round of petting. we did what we could, paid for our lot, and left, rounding out the rest of this very hot day at the local pool where we met up with our very good friends, b., s., and their boy, j. the rest, as they say, was a wash.