Yesterday, we engaged in an activity as old as humanity: friends from church invited us to pick blueberries. They have a two-year-old and a baby. So, it was a long trip without a lot of berry picking. The two-year-old had a difficult time with the notion of saving berries for later. Every time she found a berry (ripe or not), she put it in her mouth. I don’t know why, but teaching a two-year-old to gather blueberries, I felt a strange sense of communion with simpler times. It’s good to be home and moving a little slower.
