I like blueberries. One of the reasons I always wanted to live in Maine was because of this simple fact. Blueberries grow in Maine–25% of the world’s supply is right here. Not only that, but they’re the state’s official fruit. How cool is that? So when I knew I was coming to Maine, I knew that blueberries were in my future. Unfortunately, I missed the growing season by a few weeks last year, so I had to wait patiently until I could have the chance to have enough blueberries to keep me happy for the year. Twenty pounds of blueberries, to be exact. Wild ones–none of this high-bush, cultivated junk. No siree. Not for this Mainer. DKC and I spent a couple hours last night freezing them (TRC helped, but he ended up pretty much just eating anything he tried to prepare), and now we’re set. I’ll still likely go do some high-bush picking, maybe even some wild picking, too–just for good measure. In any case, I’m pretty excited for this. Blueberry muffins, blueberry pancakes, blueberry you name it.

Oh–and how much did those blueberries set me back? $30. Now I know what it’s like to live in an oil rich country. One of those places where you can get gas for like fifty cents a gallon. Well, I might have $4 gas, but I’ve got cheap blueberries.

And blueberries taste better.

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