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Scroll To The Bottom For My Original Wild Blueberry Muffin Recipe.





~~WILD BLUEBERRIES~~
By Marilyn (MWL1367@aol.com)


Here I sit, like I have nothing to do this morning but gaze out the window at the snow. But I love snow. I love to watch the big flakes floating down, spinning, whirling, tilting and twirling, as they slowly waft in what seems like an orchestrated manner, on their descent to the ground. Across the road, the fields are a blanket of white instead of their normal dull, wintery brown. And the mailbox looks very much like a gigantic white toad. Frank's truck, I notice when I shift my gaze, could pass for an albino T-Rex.

Idly, I reach for my coffee mug and a sip of the hot steaming brew. Is it snowing in Greenville, Maine? I wonder. Yesterday's Baltimore Sun reported that the state of Maine had already had 37 inches of snow this winter, and it's only the middle of January. But then temperature wise, Maine is far colder than Maryland and meterologists in Maine probably start their snow-count on November first.

Maine! Oh, how I love it. As I sit watching the flakes come down, my thoughts run back to last summer and the week Frank and I spent at a lodge on Moosehead Lake. The temperature that week was toasty, I remember, and one day Frank and I decided to go on what they the owners of the lodge called a moose safari. While we motored across the lake, the guide talked of nothing but snow. Snow drifts often measured several feet high, as high as the roof of the lodge, he told us, and we, of course, had believed him. We had seen the enormity of the wood pile stacked by each of the twelve rustic cabins earlier so we knew the winters at Moosehead Lake were cold. I had also seen a map with a network of trails for snow-mobiles, causing me to realize that either the winters were severe or Paul Bunyon lived close by.

That week at the lake was one of our best vacations ever, even though we didn't see a moose. In fact, no one at the lodge saw a moose...not on the safari or in the 11,000 acres of surrounding wildlands. Although the staff at the lodge tried to assure us that we were certain to see a moose, we never did.

One couple from Ohio went so far as to hire a private guide to find them a moose, but sadly that hadn't worked either. Another couple hired a plane and flew over the entire Moosehead Lake area, looking for moose. But like the Ohio couple, they, too, were disappointed. They returned with what they hoped were some beautiful photographs, but they did not see a moose. The owners of the lodge were surprised when they heard it and tried to console everyone with comments of how unpredictable moose are.

Before we left that last morning, Frank and I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of wild blueberry pancakes, Vermont maple syrup, and several mugs of hot coffee. It was nine o'clock before we finished packing began our three-hour drive back to the coast. We didn't travel far, however, until I realized that the three cups of coffee I had enjoyed earlier were giving me an "I need to stop" urge. Frank complained of my inability to "hold it", which was typical, but he also knew that when I need to stop, I need to stop.

A few minutes later, he pulled off the road and onto the shoulder and I breathed a sigh of relief. When he cut the engine, I opened the door and climbed out. We were in the wilds of Maine, I told myself, so I knew I needed to hurry. I took off through the grass, headed for the line of brush ahead. Boy oh boy, I thought as I hurried along, this was an emergency!

I realized as I waded through the grass, that Frank had parked on the edge of a bog. Northern Maine is full of bogs, we had discovered on our adventures, so it was no surprise.

It was quiet, so quiet I could almost hear my heart beat. I was delighted when I spotted several blueberry bushes growing near the ground. I was even more delighted when I noticed an abundance of ripe berries. Although I was moving quickly, I managed to scoop up a handful.

Was I far enough from the highway to be hidden, I wondered? I looked around and decided that I was. But while I was feeling the first moments of relief, I hear a noise. Frank! The nerve of him! He had followed me because he, too, had to "go". He could at least have found his own spot, I muttered. I tried to hurry, but of course at that point my bodily functions were in control and I couldn't.

Franks's footsteps were heavy enough to wake the dead, and judging by the noise, I heard, he was headed straight at me, as though he had carefully watched in which direction I come.

As large a state as Maine was and he had come to my little spot? I was about to shout in protest when all of a sudden, the largest animal I had have ever came lumbering up. Oh my god! My heart was in my mouth. A moose! A humongous bull moose! From my half-standing, half-squatting position, he looked behemoth. I could not move!

The moose saw me, stopped, and just stoos there. And oddly, my urge to "go" quickly disappeared. His rack was enormous! His nostrils were flared! And worse, his big brown eyes were looking straight at me! I was paralyzed! I remember hearing someone at the lodge say that moose, especially bull moose, were aggressive during the rutting season. Was it rutting season? Boy oh boy, I surely hoped not.

The moose stood for several seconds and just stared at me, and I, afraid to move, remained in my uncomfortable position. I was afraid to jump up and run for fear that my movements would startle him and cause him to charge. Then, because I can often find something amusing in most situations, I wondered how many others the moose had seen in a position such as mine. I would have laughed if I had not been scared to death. Then, in the next moment, I heard the loud blaring of a car horn. Frank!

The moose heard too, and was momentarily startled. He tensed, then took off for the bog, trotting so heavily the ground shook. It sounded very much like a herd of elephants moving through the brush.

Although my heart raced, I began to laugh. I knew Frank would never believe me.

As soon as I got to the car, I jumped in and locked the door. "Drive," I yelled, gasping. "I just saw a moose!"

"Wh--aaaaaat?" Frank's eyebrows arched.

"A moose! I saw a big, bull moose back there! Really, I did!"

"You're kidding! Is this another one of your jokes?" The tone of Frank's voice let me know that he wasn't in a mood for jokes.

"No, it isn't a joke. Believe me, I saw a moose back there!" I grabbed my purse and dug for my hairbrush."

With wrinkled brow, Frank pressed the accelerator. "I don't believe you. Where's your proof? You're trying to tell me that after a week of looking for and not seeing a single moose that one walked up while you were "going?"

My mental image at that point is so vivid that I can't help but smile. "Yes, that's what I'm telling you. I saw a moose and here's proof." Smugly, I held out my berry-stained hands. "I was so frightened I squashed the blueberries."

Frank glanced at my hands, grunted, and drove on. And to this day I don't believe he thinks I saw a moose.





Wild Blueberry Muffins

1 cup wild blueberries
1/3 cup plus 2 Tbs. sugar
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tablespoon grated lemon peel
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted

In small bowl, stir together blueberries and 2 Tbs. sugar.
Set aside. In large bowl, mix flour, 1/3 cup sugar, baking powder, baking soad and salt.
In another bowl, using a whisk, beat eggs lightly. Add milk, grated lemon peel, and melted butter.
Beat until smooth, then stir in blueberries. Stir liquid mixture into
flour mixture. Divide batter evenly among buttered muffin cups, filling each three-fourths full.
Bake in 400 degree oven until the muffins have risen and the tops are golden, which will take
about 15-20 minutes. Remove from the oven and let them cool in the pan for 2-3 three minutes.
Empty onto a platter and serve.




Other Pages: Some With Java Applet Effects


VICTORIAN CAROUSEL

THE WINDOW

ALL THINGS PASS

THE CHILD WITHIN US

HOUSE OF FRIENDSHIP

MOMENTS OF LEISURE

HEART OF A DUSTMAN

An Original Story-In-Progress
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SPEAK TO ME, MY LOVE

TOUCH THE HEART

HOW DO YOU MEND A BROKEN HEART

A SPECIAL LIST OF FRIENDS

SHAKESPEARE

UNDYING LOVE

WHERE ENCHANTMENT BEGINS

TO BE LOVED BY HIM

IF YOU COME ACROSS AN ANGEL

UNFOLDING OF A ROSE



A SUMMER PLACE

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WILD BLUEBERRIES

A WINTRY TALE

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