here’s nothing quite like the taste of a freshly picked blueberry. Its skin’s deep, midnight-blue hue is captivating, and its delicate juices effortlessly burst from its plump, soft flesh. As a little girl growing up in Louisiana, I spent almost every twilight during early summer on my grandparents’ back porch, watching the fireflies begin to pirouette under a sprawling oak tree as I sat with a seafoam green bowl filled with freshly picked blueberries still warm from the sun. A simple swathe of softly whipped cream kissed with vanilla and lemon zest nestled on top of the blueberries, perfectly complementing their juices and adding to their complexity. The lavender sky with gray clouds faded into darkness, and with it, the
