As the month of August approached, I was getting excited about blueberry picking. There is nothing like interior Alaskan blueberries – sour and sweet at the same time – especially in a blueberry rhubarb pie. Being determined to pick as many blueberries as possible, we heard that blueberries were ripe on top of the local dome. On the weekend, we looked out the window and saw that it was cold and pouring. Determined, we headed out. When we arrived at the top of dome, we did not find many berries – just wind, rain, and bad moods. We soon admitted defeat.
Determined to gather blueberries, we went on our annual family pilgrimage to Fielding Lake. We roamed the hillsides – only finding bones and empty bushes. With one last possible place to try, we ventured out – not expecting to find many blueberries. Much to our surprise, we found heaps of blueberries. We were all eager to pick – even our son Alex. We all picked and picked until we had gallons of blueberries and many pies to look forward to enjoying.