We spend every 4th of July in Savannah with Nana, Papa, Uncle Jeff and Aunt Bonnie. And, every year we go out behind Nana and Papa's house and pick blueberries. Lots of blueberries. This year it was about 25 pounds of the little blue beauties.
Before I share any more photos of the blueberries however, I should really clarify something. Just a moment ago I said that we go out and pick blueberries. I am using the term "we" very loosely. "We" usually means Razor. July in south Georgia is very hot, humid and buggy. And, I have this delusion that there are venomous snakes perched in the trees and blueberry bushes (or slithering around in the underbrush) just waiting for the likes of me. Waiting to offensively attack me like a B grade horror movie from the 1950s. Now, the rational side of me knows that snakes no more want to see me than me see them and would high-tail it out of there long before I arrived. But . . . well . . . I'm not all that rational when it comes to snakes. In fact, last week I was mowing the grass (on a riding lawn mower mind you) and a rattlesnake slithered out from under the burn pile and I started screaming bloody murder. Razor ran out in his bare feet. I'm screaming. He's bare footed. I'm then screaming that he needs shoes and he needs shoes fast. And, he grabs the hoe and takes care of the snake like it's no big deal. Bare footed. ::Blink:: ::Blink::
I digress. I think what I'm trying to say is that Razor gets all the credit for the 25 pounds of blueberries that we brought home.
And, yes my oven is an absolute mess this time of year. But then my mother would say that it is a mess all year long. Eh-hem.
P.S. I'm shooting to start the quilt giveaway tomorrow but it may have to be Wednesday. I have to finish binding it, wash it and photograph it. Plus, I have to have a proper ceremony to relinquish it from my grips.