I’d always look forward to the end of summer when I was younger. It sounds crazy for any kid to WANT summer to end, but I loved the fall. I loved the back-to-school excitement, buying all my school supplies and new school outfits. I loved raking pine needles and red-orange-brown maple leaves into piles, feeling so accomplished when I’d see them all tucked into big black garbage bags (even though the yard would be covered with leaves again within two days). And I loved going apple picking.
When you’re a kid, there’s something so magical about running around to pick and gather something that you can actually eat. Because when mom comes home from the grocery store with a bag of apples or a box of blueberries, it’s just not the same. You can’t feel the energy and sunlight and crisp fall air, or be awed by the efforts of the universe that went into creating that piece of fruit (granted, there are few things that don’t awe a six-year-old).
It’s fitting then, that just before heading off to college, my friends and I went blueberry picking. It was sort of a farewell to childhood (as was watching the last installment of the Harry Potter movies). Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t indulge our childish sides every so often. This isn’t the last time we’ll go blueberry picking.
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