Technically, Summer officially started on June 22nd. I had been informed of the fact and even subjected to a brutal heat wave. Still, I refused to welcome Summer in. Until yesterday.
Yesterday, I bought blueberries.
OK. So, we live in an era where seasons hardly matter anymore. One is no longer restricted to purchasing and eating fruits and vegetables based upon when they are harvested in his/her little corner of the world. Somewhere else, it is warm and sunny.
Yet, there are specific fruits that I refuse to eat out of season; blueberries, strawberries, and apples are top on that list. I think part of my philosophy stems from the fact that since childhood I associate fruits with a particular season. More accurately, I associate a season with particular fruits. I look forward to each season with the glee of a child waiting to open a present.
I was thrilled yesterday to find blueberries in the grocery store. Not just any blueberries – blueberries grown and harvested in our neighbor state, New Jersey.
The best way to enjoy fresh blueberries is with heavy cream poured over top of them.
Though I have no pictures of the little town, I do have pictures of our booty.
Inside Dan’s bag are two chocolate coated pretzels.
My bag is better.
Dan said he should steal a truffle or two from my bag just to teach me lesson about how to properly label bags. Not funny.