It almost seems to be too much at once, but I’ll just start wearing sweat pants. Or back my belt off a couple notches, just to make room.
Not only is corn ready to eat, the blueberries are getting ripe.
Some may find this strange, but my birthday is coming up soon. I know cake is the tradition, but I always found August a bit warm for cake for some reason. Although with a nice scoop of ice cream it fits the bill. But I have always had a request for a birthday pie, rather than a birthday cake. And, given the time of year, what I really like is a blueberry pie. Although the scoop of ice cream still works. Just sayin’.
The blueberries are starting to get ripe, so now the battle begins. Me versus the ducks. Usually, the ducks have the upper hand.
I know where there is a nice little patch of blueberries. Not a lot, but enough to make a pie and not many more than that. But ducks like blueberries. Every year, I try to keep the ducks away from my patch of berries until I have enough picked for a pie. Ducks are not big on sharing. They waddle up from the lake and rather efficiently harvest the blueberries for themselves. They don’t make pie, or cake or grunt or any of those things. They just eat them.
I chase them away, and they come back as soon as I’m not looking. There isn’t a lot of quacking going on. They just quietly waddle up and start eating. I don’t even know they are there until I see the bushes shaking.
And even worse, I can’t stand guard all day every day. I can usually only get to my little blueberry patch on weekends. The ducks are there all the time, watching the berries get ripe and waiting to eat them as they do, beating me to my berries and keeping me from my pie.
I may have to range a little further looking for berries. But I will have my pie. Maybe with a side of duck.
