In rural northern Minnesota blueberries grow wild at the edges of the woods and other unlikely places. The farmer's wife takes a small bucket to the berm at the edge of a plowed field and looks toward the tree line. At first glance the berries are hard to see. Squint a little and focus on a small patch and they spring into sight growing close to the ground. There is no pattern or logic. They seem to grow here and there and then skip for a while, but if you find one you can be sure more are nearby. The best blueberries are 3/8" in diameter, plump, and easy to part from their stem. A good picker can fill her bucket in half an hour, go back to the farm house, prime the pump by the sink, rinse the berries in cold water, drain and divide them into several breakfast food bowls. Every one near sits at the kitchen table and pours just the right amount of cream in each bowl, dips the spoon and transfers the heavenly berries to the waiting mouth. Was it all worth the effort? As Sarah Palin would say; "You Betcha"!