Mary Oliver’s Blueberries: Veggie Share Week #4 – Wed. July 2nd

Mary Oliver’s Blueberries

The very first farmer I worked for used to quote Mary Oliver in the fields. I have never been much of a poetry reader, but this winter at an airport bookstore I found a collection of Mary Oliver’s poems. As I am now the same age as my first farmer boss, I wondered if I too might enjoy Mary Oliver’s perspective.

That was a good airport purchase decision, really!

Occasionally I just pick up her book and read one poem. I let that sit in my mind, savor it a bit. I really enjoy how tasting the one poem spreads flavor in my daily observances. Recently, I read the poem “Blueberries” and it has been sticking with me.

There is connection we keep when our food comes from places we know.

Blueberries, by Mary Oliver from Blue Horses
I’m living in a warm place now, where
you can purchase fresh blueberries all
year long. Labor free. From various
countries in South America. They’re
as sweet as any, and compared with the
berries I used to pick in the fields
outside Provincetown, they’re
enormous. But berries are berries. They
don’t speak any language I can’t
understand. Neither do I find ticks or
small spiders crawling among them. So,
generally speaking, I’m very satisfied.

There are limits, however. What they
don’t have is the field. The field they
belonged to and through the years I
began to feel I belonged to. Well,
there’s life, and then there’s later.
Maybe it’s myself that I miss. The
field, and the sparrow singing at the
edge of the woods. And the doe that one
morning came upon me unaware, all
tense and gorgeous. She stamped her hoof
as you would to any intruder. Then gave
me a long look, as if to say, Okay, you
stay in your patch, I’ll stay in mine.
Which is what we did. Try packing that
up, South America.

Sincerely, 
Farmer Cassie