I’m calling it nine gallons in the freezer, and I’m calling it quits.

Actually, I decided I was happy with eight gallons and planned to stop there, but blueberry picking is addictive. The in-laws were napping. It’s hard not to look out the windows around here. I swear I could see blue spots on the tundra. And then I heard them call. No one would notice if I slipped out. Just an hour. Two, tops. And so for several days I crept out, gradually reducing my blueberry picking time, bringing back mere quarts at a time, until yesterday I finally called it quits. For 2009. Really. I’m done. Cold turkey. No more blueberry picking.

I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten all of them–the good ones, anyway.

cranberries

Now I’m picking cranberries.