Memorial Day is really the first day of summer. And I want to spend this sunscreen-soaked summer with my girls, beginning with the beach, followed quickly by Vacation Bible School, the Fourth of July, my older daughter's birthday and lots of fun up until school starts back August 6th (!).
And in just one month, near the end of June, the local blueberries will appear in the farmer's market and the CSA bags. I lived for blueberries last summer. We ate bags and boxes of them, maybe freezing a pint or two, which didn't last through October. We were like giddy subprime mortgage lenders, wallowing in the bounty, ignoring the future, the still small voice whispering the blueberries won't go on forever. Heedless of the maxim all good things must come to an end.
But now it's May and soon it will be June. Emily Dickinson wrote that hope is the thing with feathers. Naaah. The Belle of Amherst had it all wrong. Hope is a blueberry. And when I have fresh blueberries at hand, I plan to make blueberry scones and blueberry almond yogurt cake and maybe a blueberry pie and my favorite, blueberry granola parfaits.