We picked three gallons of blueberries yesterday afternoon...
... and then drove out to a local farm to gather a bushel of pink-eye peas. The lady at the farm told us to pack our half-bushel buckets as full as we could get them, and we actually ended up with 27 lbs of peas, two more than the standard bushel. Then we brought them home to dump on a clean sheet in the den and started shelling.
I shelled 18 lbs of peas in about four hours, then helped Grandmommy find the few wormy ones before she blanched them and packed them in stuffed pint bags for freezing. She froze most of the blueberries, too.
This is the second time in a week I've been down at Grandmommy's--my sister and her family visited last weekend, and so Mums and I drove down Saturday to see them and spend one night. My nephew and niece were enthralled by the blueberry bushes in the backyard, and the three of us--Brad, Rita and me--passed hours picking fruit, eating berries straight off the bushes while filling our baskets.
The two young fry made up stories while they darted around in the thicket, pretending they were "woodland sprites" who would magically fill pickers' baskets with ripe blueberries if treated well, but unripe pink ones if scorned. Grandmommy came down for a while to admire the children's superior skills in selecting good berries:
The ham, hamming it up.
A full half-gallon each.
.When we finally came inside, Rita immediately occupied herself with her great-grandmother's typewriter ....
... painstakingly composing a story (I don't know if it was a blueberry or Harry Potter-inspired fantasy, as she finished reading a well-thumbed copy of The Order of the Phoenix in Saturday and was well launched into The Half-Blood Prince on Sunday).
While Brad played with interlocking blocks on the floor.
Two silly children with their increasingly round aunt.