Friday night, laying in bed and enjoying a little pillow talk before dozing off, husband and I decided a visit to the blueberry patch would be an exceptional (and a bit impromptu) way to start our Saturday. The weather would be overcast and cool, ideal for two little girls on a summer morning. With a 6:30 wake-up call from our youngest, we loved the thought of picking the blueberries as soon as they opened. So we readied ourselves and opted to eat our traditional Saturday donuts (from a local donut shop) in the car on the way over to the farm. There was coffee too; and music and an excited 3.5-year-old with leftover donut chocolate smudged around her smiling mouth.
We enjoyed a quiet morning picking session that resulted in 4 quarts of berries, mostly to be devoured as-is. I'm still holding out hope to make a crumble from what is remaining. It was wild thinking back on last year's visit, when I was 11 days away from delivering Quinn and we were sneaking in the last moments of us as a family of three. It was easy then to dream of what this year's blueberry harvesting would be like, with a baby just shy of her first birthday. I can't help but associate my youngest and blueberry picking now, and I feel like this will always be a part of her birthday celebrations; even when it's just her and I sneaking away to load a basket full of ripe blueberries in the cool mountain morning, coming home to whip up a special treat with those still-wet-from-the-dew, birthday berries. It's magical how little moments become special memories that turn into cherished traditions.
As for this summer, I feel certain we'll make it back out to blueberry hill for at least one more round of picking before the season is over. Now for a whole lot of photos, because it was impossible to narrow it down. And because I'm obsessed with this family of mine and the traditions we're making!
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