Murphy’s Blueberry Farm is one of the prettiest places around here.  The view is draw-dropping and the picking, superb.

Today I went for my last picking of the season, as the farm will close for the season next weekend.

Late berries are the sweetest, and I was born to pick.

I love searching the bushes, testing each berry for ripeness with a small tug.

I become absorbed, obsessed almost, the berries becoming the anchor for a deep meditative state.  It’s what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls the “flow state” –a thorough absorption in the task.

It is a berry deep place.

An hour later, when I “came to,”my bucket was heavy with fruit, and my heart was light.

Tomorrow, pie.