Look who crawled under the netting to the blueberry patch; my 6’ 2″ 26 year old son, Josh. He inherited his father’s dislike of mayonnaise and his mother’s love of blueberries.
When he was a little boy he used to set up battles between blueberries and grapes. The blueberries always lost because he ate them.
This time of year, I spend at least an hour each day in the garden. On weekends, my husband joins me. We get paid well for our labor with the green currency of Swiss chard, broccoli, lettuce, and kale.
In August, we’ll strike it rich with the gold of corn and Yukon potatoes.