The height of summer is announced by fields and barrens of ripe wild blueberries. Around mid-July, the first pints of local blueberries pop up at the farmers market, and it is around that time that I schedule my annual 'blueberry field trip'. In the region around (appropriately called) Blue Hill, many wild blueberry barrens are tended by local farmers, and the blueberry fields stretch endlessly into the horizon. Last year, 88 million pounds of wild blueberries were harvested in Maine, and around 600,000 pounds were sold fresh. Maine is actually the largest producer of wild blueberries in the world.
Naturally, there are also many patches with truly wild blueberries, which you can pick yourself, including a back ache from bending over for hours, and tinted fingers and mouth, but being shielded from investigating farmers for illegal picking. Anyway, I get my blueberries from the farmers market after a few of those bent back adventures, but I am still mesmerized by the blueberries fields. They remind me of the Beatles song "Strawberry fields forever". Just blueberry fields forever, in my case. There is a true beauty to those endless fields of barely 10 inch high plants, which turn a deep reddish purple in the fall, the tiny green leaves, and the clusters of sweet blueberries,..... a sea of blueberries.
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