Blueberry Mountain

We used to live in Grand Marais a good part of the summer back in the ’50s.

And picking blueberries was a big thing for my mom. Abe Lund (Lund’s Cabin Court) would tell us where the fresh burnt-over patches had enough regrowth that berries would be everywhere – and he was always right.

Here’s a pic from 68 years ago, somewhere up the Gunflint. Mom canned almost 100 pints that summer.

One really productive spot was on the side of Northern Light Mt. I was taking a break from picking, sitting on a log enjoying a breeze (berry pickin’ was hot work in August). Then a bear got on the other end of MY log and we teeter-tottered a bit till I decided if he wanted that log, he could have it. But he didn’t get my bucket of blueberries :-)

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