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.
Now I’m picking cranberries.