My grandmother was unflappable. Mémère could fall asleep in a room full of chaos. Nothing ever seemed to bother her. She had no hesitation taking her young granddaughter into the deep Maine woods to go blueberry picking, even though her granddaughter had a life threatening allergy to bees. Clearly she was right, because no catastrophe ever occurred but rather just wonderful memories eating handfuls of blueberries right from the bushes.
I remember many outings, where we would walk deep into the Maine woods to find the best blueberry bushes to pick from during blueberry season. These were in the days before the evolution of pick-your-own farms. This was old school. She knew where the blueberries were and had mad skills picking them.
Weekends in Maine 