We rented a car on Saturday and loaded it with Matty and Leeloo, then drove the hour plus up to Easton, Connecticut to pick blueberries at Stu!’s parent’s house. They live in an old farm house that her grandfather was born in, and in the back are a dozen enormous blueberry bushes that produce amazing organic fruit. Ages ago, her parents made these goofy/awesome coffee can holders with string that holds them around your neck for picking, and after dinner the four of us marched out to the bushes to get to work. As we picked, Matty, Leeloo, and Jack – her black lab, and my dogs’ oldest friend – wove themselves around our ankles, and Jack showed my two how to pick berries for themselves right off of the dog-height branches. Emily and Stu!, of course, are friends from high school, who knew me way before I was cool (stop laughing!) so it was fun to hang out with them and show Marley off to some of my old friends.
After we had our fill and added some wild raspberries to the mix, we caught fireflies in a jar and watched them light up the yard for a while until mosquitos got us, and then had some sort of invented dessert that I think was pretty close to blueberry shortcake, with blueberries from their yard from earlier in the season and homemade ice cream.
The whole evening felt like someone mending the sail of a sailboat, sewing small tears up in my soul. Between the root canal, lots of weddings, tons of places to be all the time all over the City and a scary medical procedure*, it was a long month, and it was so good to be still, and quiet. There is almost nothing more magic to me than late July in New England. Or friendship.
Thanks, Emily and Stu!
*Story forthcoming. Spoiler: I’m fine.