My infatuation with blueberries, explained
I've always wanted to grow blueberries. The reason must begin with summer vacations in Michigan, my uncle's blueberry farm and my aunt's blueberry pies
The blueberries have started making their appearance on the five bushes alongside the split-rail fence near the vegetable garden. Tiny, almost-iridescent blue balls are nestled amid the plants’ green leaves, absorbing all the energy the sun can give them. They’ll ripen in the days and weeks ahead, the birds keeping a watchful eye.
I’ve wanted to grow blueberries for years, and buying this house in western Massachusetts finally gave me the chance to do it. For much of my life, blueberries – among all the glorious fruits on our planet – have held an almost mythical spot in my mind. I love their deep blue color and their size, small enough so you can scoop a handful into your mouth, no peeling or pitting required. They’re delicious and healthy.
As a kid, though, I admit I didn’t enjoy eating them all that much, even though my mom sprinkled them liberally with sugar. But I absolutely loved blueberry pie. I suppose that’s where my infatuation began.
My mother’s sister, my Aunt Jane, baked fabulous pies at her home in Dowagiac, Michigan. My parents, sister, brothers and I would drive to Dowagiac in our station wagon every August to spend a couple weeks’ vacation on Magician Lake or, just across the road, the smaller Dewey Lake. To pass time and keep the excitement level high, we’d talk about Aunt Jane’s pies on the two-day trip out from New Jersey. She’d make apple pies and peach pies but I remember her blueberry pies best, filled from cans of fresh berries that seemed to be literally overflowing at her home.
Jane’s husband Paul Jones was a blueberry farmer. Uncle Paul was a handsome man who stood ramrod straight because of a chronic bad back. He was a remote but intriguing figure to me as a young boy despite his taciturn demeanor. He let me drive his ride-on mower and taught me how to make chocolate fudge on the stove. I was just 12 when he suddenly and shockingly passed away so I never really got to know much about his blueberry business, though I vaguely remember visiting his 80-acre farm in Grand Junction, Michigan, which the family always referred to only as “The 80.” Paul and his brother Bernard bought The 80 in 1936. They owned another 38-acre farm a few miles away and a 50-acre U-pick farm in Osceola, Indiana. Their father Sam Jones was also a blueberry farmer.
I remember home movies shot by my dad of the mechanized blueberry harvester that Paul helped develop, though I can’t recall whether I was actually there with my father that day. I asked my cousin, Thom Jones, to help fill in the details of his dad’s farming life. I was particularly interested in the invention of the towering mechanized blueberry picker that straddled the bushes as it moved down the rows, shaking the bushes to free the ripe fruit. Similar machines are used on blueberry farms to this day, and for olive harvesting as well.
Here’s what Thom told me:
“The automated, self-driven berry picker evolved from a number of cruder models. From time spent in the fields they knew that ripe berries were more easily separated from the bushes than the less ripe. I imagine a moment when Dad tested this spontaneously by shaking a limb and witnessing the loss of the ripe berries. So from early on the object was to find a mechanical means of shaking the bushes (then how to collect them?).
Dad partnered with a local mechanic and inventor, Mac McKibbon. The first models were air-powered hand drills fitted with an attached set of fingers and inserted into the bushes. The drill head had an offset bearing that created a shaking motion. I wasn't present for all the following iterations but at some point it became evident that an over-the-row machine would be more efficient. So the machine straddles the row of bushes, gathers the berries and transports them to carry boxes ('lugs'). Later they developed a cleaning machine that blew away small, unripe berries, leaves and twigs, leaving the heavier ripe berries to continue to the packaging stage.
I don't know what the machines Dad and Mac sold for, but new ones today go for around $300K.”
With their invention, Paul and Mac McKibben formed the Blueberry Equipment Company to supply harvesters for the blueberry industry.
It was a different era, to be sure. Just take a look at this photo most likely taken in the ‘40s of my uncle leaning against a pickup filled with blueberry crates, a James Dean before his time.
I was very happy to learn from my cousin that three of the highbush blueberry varieties I’ve planted – Blueray, Bluecrop and Duke – were grown by my uncle 70 or more years ago. He also grew Jersey and Coville.
Now if I could only get my bushes to survive.
Growing blueberries is tough. I’ve met a lot of people in the Berkshires who’ve told me they found it impossible to grow them here, though I know for a fact there are several blueberry picking farms in the area. So I remain naively optimistic.
The biggest challenge is the soil. Blueberries require soil that is highly acidic, with a pH level of between 4.5 and 5.2, according to the UMass Extension Service. Our soil is around 7.0, which is great for growing most things, an obstacle to healthy blueberries. They also prefer soil that is somewhat sandy – ours has a high amount of organic matter in it – and they like water.
I started preparing my blueberry bed in October 2021 by blocking out the area with thick cardboard and then covering it with several inches of a mix of soil, sand and organic compost. I added about 4-5 pounds of pelletized sulfur to the bed, based on the recommendation of blueberry master Lee Reich, an agriculture scientist with the USDA and Cornell University. He lives on a farm in New Paltz in New York’s Hudson Valley about 70 miles southwest of me. The soil and conditions aren’t that different from where I live, so I figured, why not me too? He’s graciously responded to my emails seeking advice on lowering my soil’s acidity level.
More than 2 1/2 years and several additional pounds of sulfur later, I’ve lowered my pH to 6.2. That’s according to the soil test results I received in April from the UMass Soil and Plant Nutrient Testing Lab in Amherst. So I have a little ways to go!
That said, the bushes are growing. By the time I planted the first four bushes in April 2023, the bed was a fluffy mix of soil, compost, peat moss (a natural soil acidifier), dried fern leaves and white pine needles. A fifth plant went in this spring. They’re all Northern Highbush blueberries, one Bluecrop, one Blueray, one BlueJay and two Dukes. (My daughter went to UNC, so believe me I would have chosen a Tar Heel if there was such a thing.) Other than keeping the bed watered, each spring I’ve added pelletized sulfur for acidity, lightly raking it in, and alfalfa or soy meal for nitrogen. I’ve covered the bed with a thick layer of shredded leaves each fall. That’s about it.
Last summer, I left the berries for the birds to feast on. There weren’t that many, for starters, and I was traveling back and forth from Washington to Massachusetts during June and July. This year may be a different story.
We eat blueberries with cereal most mornings, or I put them in smoothies. It’s one of the few fruits (bananas being the other) we buy at the grocery store year-round, even out of season. They’re rich in vitamins and are great antioxidants. My wife Katie also plays catch with our dogs during breakfast, tossing a blueberry in the air for them to grab. Birdie, our Jack Russel mix, can track down most every berry like Willie Mays. Frida, our dachshund-chihuahua, is more Bill Buckner. She lets them drop between her legs first and then mulls whether they are worthy enough for her to pick up.
Anyway, the big question is whether to put netting over the bushes during the ripening season. We’re fearful of trapping birds inside the nets, but I’m of the opinion that if we check the nets once or twice a day we can free the birds. It might teach them a lesson.
I’ll be back with an update on how this plays out sometime this summer.
Yes, what a fascinating story. Love the Birdie video!
What a fascinating family history of blueberries. Hope yours flourish.