Every year on Father's Day weekend, we all wake up early and go blueberry picking. My parents, Chris, me, the kids, and whoever else is with us that year all load into a car (or cars) and head off. There have been years of babies in slings. There have been years of pulling toddlers in wagons. No matter the ages, we always go. Even though it is hot, we have a lot of fun. Blueberries grow on big bushes so that you aren't bending down or reaching up all day. You can just stand and pick. Although, I usually find myself convinced that the best ones are in this hard to reach spot. I end up in the middle of the bush pulling limbs down so that I can get the very top, middle ones. We always have fun trying to see who can fill their buckets the highest. Its hard though, when we eat as many as we pick! Something I love about the morning is listening to all the talk around me. Everyone, (our family as well as strangers) speaks openly to one another. You have this feeling of privacy as you stand next to someone and the bushes surround you. You can pick and listen to all kinds of conversation! It is such a sweet, precious family time that no one would want to miss a year. Yes, you will hear us complain about the heat and how early we are expected to leave, but secretely we hold this tradition as one of our favorites. One year we had a contest to see who could fit the most blueberries in their mouth at the same time. After we are all tired, we go back to my parent's house and make cobbler and snack on fresh blueberries. We then eat blueberries for weeks!