The Berry Farm

We took our youngest granddaughter down to the berry farm along the river to pick blueberries. To me, blueberries are one of the finest fruits – blueberry pancakes, blueberry cake, blueberry muffins, blueberries in a salad, blueberry preserves, blueberries by the handful – whatever form, they’re yummy.

At the berry farm there are strawberry, red and black raspberry and blueberry plants galore, but this day we were after blueberries. Since it promised to be a hot day, we went fairly early in the morning and in just over an hour picked 20 pounds of blueberries.

Some of the berries went home to Mom and Dad, but most went into our freezer to supply blueberries for pancakes, muffins and cakes. We’ll have to go back to get more before picking time is over or we won’t have enough blueberries to last the winter.

It’s a pleasure to buy locally grown food and support nearby farmers who, in turn, support local businesses when they purchase supplies and equipment. Buying from local farmers gives them an economic incentive not to sell their land to have it turned into habitat for McMansions or parking lots for big box stores. One of the area’s supermarkets also buys fruit and produce locally, supporting local agriculture and keeping their own transportation costs down.

How much better to purchase locally grown food rather than blueberries flown up from Chile or lettuce trucked across the country from irrigated fields in drought-stricken California. Unfortunately, some of the finest agricultural land in the area has already been put under roof or pavement. “There ought to be a law” say some – but there ain’t.