Ah, January. It’s the season of snow and ice and other annoyances.
But there’s an UP-side: in the supermarkets I can find tubs of fat, dark, juicy blueberries.
I love ‘em. Call me an old anti-oxidant junkie. (In fact, some of you might have noticed that my Gmail address is supposed to be “wild blueberries” in French. I say “supposed to be” because I misspelled it; oh well, Comment puis-je être maladroit?)
Anyway, there these beauties were today, in one of our local emporia, reasonably priced, considering, and making one’s mouth to water.
But as I put them in the cart, I heard these voices in my head, sounding like some of my greener friends:
Tas, tsk, went the voices. How could you be so selfish, so eager to join in the ruination of the atmosphere and the environment generally? Don’t you know those berries are shipped here from 5,000 miles away by atmosphere-destroying airliner??
Besides which, chimes in another, they’re not even organic; full of toxics and pesticides.
For that matter, echoes a third, we’re supposed to be buying local, and seasonal; plenty of blueberries grow in Carolina, within an hour’s drive, and they’ll be ready for you in June.
Now the chorus: so get with the new age program; practice some discipline and delayed gratification. Have a rutabaga, or maybe some winter–grown Carolina collards instead.
Well. What’s a politically correct fella supposed to do? On the one side –the planet. On the other — damn, those berries look good. Fat-, caffeine- and cholesterol-free too. (And face it: rutabagas on pancakes or in muffins?)
So help me out here, people. What’s it going to be? Collards, rutabagas, and dreams of July blueberry madness?
Or instant gratification, imperial entitlement, atmospheric destruction, and global warming, all for some Vitamins A, K and potassium. . . .??