An early-evening thunderstorm had left the air as heavy and sodden as the ground outside. My friend and I had scheduled a time later to pick blueberries at her house, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk it if the rain came back.

But she texted that the sun was out at her house so I went.

She carried a large, handled basket and a small plastic jug, and I brought an old Cool Whip container. We walked down to the lake where the bushes stood—maybe 12 of them, absolutely loaded from top to bottom.

My favorite fruit! In abundance.

We each chose an area to start picking and soon her husband joined us. As we talked, I would pick from one bush and move to another, only to realize that I had missed bunches of berries on the first bush. When our containers were almost overflowing, we would pour the berries into the large basket. I must have done that three or four times.

Multiplying quickly, the berries filled the basket with deep blue beauty. I could hardly wait to bite into their deep blue goodness.

And I was already planning to make cobbler.

It was quiet and peaceful, the only sounds being our voices and the occasional lap of the lake nearby. The humidity seemed to lift a little, and the sky pinkened a bit when the sun started to set.

It reminded me that sometimes, especially now when life has gotten so complicated, simple things like picking berries on a summer evening can mean the most, and the memories made are worth savoring.

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