Blueberry Pickin'

If you've lived in the Deep South for any amount of time, you've picked blueberries at least once or twice. I've been picking berries since I've been knee high to a grasshopper. Used to hate doing it; now I find a simple pleasure in it. The older I get, the more simple things mean to me.

Ever since my father took up the hobby of making jelly, my family has picked much, much more in the past two or three years. The man can make jelly out of any fruit, but seeing as how there is a little blueberry orchard in the backyard... We are never out of blueberry jelly anymore.

To those who do not know, there are different varieties of blueberries. I myself do not know the names of them, but I do know that usually the big berries are a little sour and the smaller berries are sweeter. As my mother says, you have to mix both to make a good jelly.

Like any other fruit, blueberries depend on a regular source of water. Summer showers usually keep the berries big and ripe, but for some reason, the summer showers haven't been as regular as the past few years and it really shows in the berries.

One particular bush that has ALWAYS produced the biggest berries now has the smallest berries on its branches. The bush that has always produced the smallest berries now has the biggest 'uns this year. There must be a life lesson in this somewhere...

As a Christian, I need "water" to grow the spiritual fruits in my life. If I receive an abundance of a water, my fruits will show. But if I receive just a little water, barely enough to survive, the fruits I produce will show that too.