Blueberry Picking Time

Northern Minnesota has lots of wild blueberries.  Some grow in wet areas called blueberry bogs and some grow in the pine forests.

Many years ago, when my kids and I lived in that part of the state, I spent hours in the middle of summer, out in the pine woods, picking blueberries.  I was lucky enough to find an area that held a wealth of berries and that nobody else knew about.  Blueberry picking areas were jealously guarded by those of us who wanted the berries.

My family ate some of the berries fresh.  I canned blueberries in a simple syrup, made blueberry jam and froze the rest.

My Dad's family picked blueberries, but used a different method than I did.  Keeping in mind I had only four kids and there were nine of them.

When the berries were ripe, my Grandpa and his sons would load a cast iron, wood burning stove onto a hay wagon.  Added to that were crates of canning jars, large stock pots and a goodly amount of sugar and enough food for a couple of days.  They hooked up their team of horses, everybody piled onto the wagon and off they would go to a blueberry bog several miles from their farm.

Everyone had their job to do.  A couple of the boys gathered dry wood to burn in the wood stove.  The rest would head out with pails to fill with berries.  Dad once showed me a homemade blueberry picker he used that made quick work of filling his pail.

Grandma and a couple of the girls were in charge of canning the blueberries.  They cleaned the sticks and leaves out and washed the berries.  The jars were filled and the berries covered with a light sugar syrup and water bath canned.  They didn't go back home until all the jars were filled and canned.

If you have never eaten wild blueberries, you are missing a treat.  Store bought blueberries are tasteless by comparison.  It was worth every minute of time and effort to pick blueberries.