I grew up in Holland, Michigan; blueberry farms could be found no further than a mile away no matter where you were in the city. I have driven through the fields on the way to school, wandered through the rows, and at the end of the summer, after all my patience throughout the year, reaped the reward of as many fat and juicy blueberries I could stomach.
What always amazes me is how the bushes transform from twigs in the ground during winter, to bountiful platters of fruit in the summer. When the tiny, expensive packages of blueberries show up in the grocery stores, I have to chuckle at how easy it is to be ignorant to our food production system. It’s a natural thing to take the food we see on the shelves for granted. Prices, brand, and marketing are really all we see. What we don’t see are the spring branches that have turned purple with blueberry juice, or the fog of pesticides in the morning, or even the owners, employers, and the conditions they work in. There is a hidden world to blueberry production.
