My grandmother taught me to pick wild blueberries. On the lake in southern New Hampshire where we spent our summers, blueberries grew in the profuse underbrush. Picking them kept a bunch of active kids busy those long sticky days. Me, Charlot, Chris, Rolo and Annie followed the sandy road from our camp north to the neighbors’ yard where a narrow path led into the woods. The low bushes appeared in a clearing.  We ate as