Blueberries

A bag of peas is pretty cheap. So why is a box of blueberries so expensive? They aren't much bigger than peas, but they seem to cost a whole lot more. There are times when an itty-bitty box of blueberries costs more than a full meal. It must have something to due with the fact that I'm willing to pay a small fortune for blueberries, but I would never pay for peas unless my wife guilted me into being a good roll model to my kids. 

During the summers, we often head up to Oregon where the blueberries are plentiful. As a matter of fact, they are so plentiful that the farmers almost pay you for picking their bushes. There's one farm that we visited where the owner greeted us personally as we drove in. He then gave us a tour of the farm, carefully pointing out where to find the different varieties of blueberries and explaining their different uses. He let us know that as long as we picked our own, the cost was one dollar per pound. He also insisted that we try out the berries as we were picking them and that there was no cost for anything we ate on-site. 

Usually when I eat blueberries I'm very cautious, knowing that the quantities are limited. I'll eat two or three in one bite and slowly work my way through a small handful. Not at the blueberry farm. That day I ate berries by the handful. I mixed the mild ones with the tart ones to create different flavors. Other times I'd pick one great big one right off the bush and pop it in my mouth never even worrying about how much the bill wold come to. By the time my wife and I and the kids finished picking an hour later, we had several pounds of blueberries and a tab of about five bucks. 

Yesterday for Mother's Day we took Mommy to the local Southern California blueberry farm. The berries were equally delicious and the kids had fun picking them. The setting was pristine. You would never guess that we were only a few miles from the nearest major shopping mall. The biggest differences between Southern California and Oregon were that it was 102 degrees outside and the final bill came to 15 dollars after only about 15 minutes of picking. 

As I looked around at the farm, it occurred to me that the real difference between these two experiences is not the price, but the perception. In Oregon, we were doing the farmer a favor by saving him the expense of hiring someone to harvest his crops. In California, we were visiting an attraction, like a mini theme park. There were chickens and pigs off to the side to make you want to come back and see them again. There were fences and lots of cute signs with rules and directions. There was a counter where you could buy jam and drinks and other concessions. 

In Oregon, there was a a farmer who handed you a bucket and had a jar on a table where you could leave some money when you left. As you picked, he tinkered with his '56 Nomad that was parked on a patch of grass beside the barn. 

Regardless of the price, the kids had fun both times. And to make up for the higher prices in Southern California, we just drove down the street to the neighborhood Costco and pigged out on free samples afterwards. I'd call that a win-win.