…………on Blueberry Hill.
Hemingway, what’s a blueberry?
It’s something humans eat but you and I don’t.
So why am I singing about it?
Wait…….is this a blueberry?
Yes it is. Tell me again why you are disturbing my nap.
I know why I’m singing.
Remember last week when Mom left and took a road trip? When she got back, she told us she had gone over to that other state and went way up on the river bluffs and picked blueberries at this really neat farm called Rush River Produce.
I remember how happy Mom was when she came back from her road trip. Did you see all those blueberries she had?
I guess we should be helping her find a job but if she had been working, she wouldn’t have been able to take that trip ‘cuz she says weekends go too fast when you have a job.
I FOUND MY THRILL…………ON BLUEBERRY HILL…..
Steinbeck, a little less noise please. zzzzzzzzzzzz