Better Blueberries

We took a wrong turn on the way to the blueberry farm. The blueberries were mushy. Mosquitos swarmed us, especially little Wallace with his milky baby blood. I had dressed for an overcast morning not for full sun at noon. Our lunch was soggy and Wallace wet his pants.

But we were with Grandfather. And being with Grandfather makes everything better. Conversations with him during the long car ride there and back again made it all worthwhile.

(I still wish we had come home with a basket of better blueberries. . . )