GENRE: *Lyrical
WORDS: 480
Query:
Thank you for reviewing my PB Party submission.
On a mountain in Vermont, a blueberry farm measures the passing of time through deep family connections and a shifting lyrical refrain. From the first sprout of new bushes to the farmstand, through the ebb and flow of hungry critters and the wild wood, GROWING UP BLUEBERRY takes a journey through the growth, death, and rebirth of a beloved family farm. This 480-word lyrical story, inspired by personal experiences, is designed for children ages 4-8 and touches on themes of family, nature, and cycles. Potential backmatter is available to include an author’s note and original newspaper clippings.
Like Outside In (Underwood & Derby, 2020), GROWING UP BLUEBERRY is a love letter to the quiet, magical moments that happen outside, while also offering the reader a heartwarming family history akin to Farmhouse (Blackall, 2022), with an invitation to explore the balance with nature, and the ebbs and flow of life on a family farm.
I’m a mother, geologist, environmentalist, and blueberry-farm-vermonter at heart. I am a member of two bi-weekly critique groups, the Co-Assistant Regional Advisor to SCBWI/New York West/Central Chapter and a member of Storyteller Academy.
I have other completed picture book manuscripts available upon request.
Thank you for your consideration.
Excerpt:
On a mountain in Vermont,
hugged by an orchard,
a farm awakens.
In the middle,
stands a girl picking blueberries.
Little hands, dappled blue,
pluck handfuls of berries,
PLINKITY-PLONK
into an old can.
One for the bucket,
two for her belly,
and a sprinkling of runaways
for the creepy crawlers.
Her uncle drives the tractor,
returning fruit to the farmstand.
She learns at his side,
but not big enough,
yet.
What inspired you to write this story & what do you have in common with it:
I grew up on a blueberry farm on a mountain, in Vermont. I worked on the farm as soon as I could walk – tip-stepping barefoot, down the dirt road from our house to the farm stand. I learned how families support each other. We all pitched in. My childhood summers were filled with farm-work, learning from grandfather, and then my uncle, picking berries, pruning and re-wiring fences.
The farm is closed, much of the family have moved. And when we gather at the farm, where my uncle now lives, we always pick the berries that remain.
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