If I were a fruit...

This in response to a recent post by lapetitefleur:

Many people may read this as the kind of question Barbara Walters would ask in an interview in her later years on 20/20. However, for a food lover and a poet, I’m inclined to answer thoughtfully.

If I were a fruit, I would be a blueberry.

Reasons being the following:

That I love berries of all kinds, but blueberries happen to be my favorite, with raspberries close behind.

And if I were a blueberry, I would grow wild on oceanside bushes, breathing the sea air as it rolls in off the coast.

Because the taste for blueberries can be satisfied in so many ways: They are the perfect way to start your day: breakfast. They are delicious in oatmeal, blueberry muffins, blueberry coffeecake, blueberry pancakes with blueberry syrup. They are beautiful as a garnish, perfect as a snack by themselves, or an addition to a more substantial dish. You can even make blueberry wine, as my aunt Denise does from her garden in New Brunswick, Canada. And then there is my grandmother’s blueberry pie.

They can be sweet or sour, bitter or perfumed, an ambrosial fragrance on your palate.

Because they stain your mouth with the deepest blue, as if the berries were rich and filled with secrets that could only be released on your tongue, as though those secrets needed to borrow your mouth for a voice.

Blueberries are petite and feminine. They are plump and round and smooth. I like the feeling of holding a bundle of loose blue beads in my hands as they tumble around between my palms, like black pearls off their string.

Because they are good for your heart, like so many of the good things in life that give us pleasure, like wine, dark chocolate, tea or coffee, a good night's sleep, yoga, spring cleaning, poetry, an afternoon in the park, or falling in love.

I think I need to start a food blog.