Blueberry

Five years ago I bought some bare root blueberry plants.  Five years ago I planted those plants in little pots and left them alone.

Four years ago I put the blueberries in bigger pots.  Again, I left them alone.

Three years ago I put the blueberries in my vegetable parterre.  2 of them survived.

Two years ago I ... I did nothing.  They just sat in the parterre enjoying the sun.

Last year, also nothing.  Okay, I might have inspected them with a magnifier to see if there was any hope whatsoever of them ever bearing fruit.  I decided there was no hope, so I left them alone.

But today!  Today when my DH and I were planting in the garden, I came face to face with this - the first blueberry on the blueberry plant.  I couldn't believe it.  My first blueberry.

I love blueberries.  Always have.  To me blueberries mean summer is here.  Their sweet taste, the purple stains on your hands, the smell of them simmering in a pot on the stove.  It's my childhood all over again each time I see a blueberry.  I can still hear my grandpa when he greeted us each time we went to visit - 'There's some blueberry pie in the freezer, Joe.' (He called us all Joe - our mother said it was so he didn't have to remember all of our names - I think he just liked saying Joe.)

Now we have our own blueberry.  It's small, it's green, it doesn't look like it has a chance of ripening.  It's not enough for a pie or jam or fruit salad.  It will probably be eaten by a bird or a chipmunk or our rabbit.

But it's there!  We actually grew a blueberry from bare root.  This means that I am not a lame gardener! I have a clue when it comes to plants.

Oh wait - I just neglected it for a few years.  Well, let's see...

I chose the spot to plant it!  I'm not a lame gardener! I have a clue when it comes to plants.