Lucky for me, our summer vacation to visit my Aunt and Uncle in North Truro coincided with blueberry season. I was delighted to go wild blueberry picking near the dunes with their friend, Ira. We let some air out of the tires, and Ira drove us to his secret location. We were quickly enveloped in curtains of blueberry bushes the size of redwood trees. I entered “the zone” and began to pluck the large, vibrant berries from the bushes with methodical precision. Too much pressure and you could rupture the berry in your fingers. It was an artful dance to procure the ripest blueberries for pancakes and muffins. At the end of the morning, my stomach was almost as full of berries as my bucket.