Saying Grace: Blueberry Muffins or A Morning on a Lake in Maine

It was early morning when my sister and I pulled on our jeans and flannel shirts and snuck out the back door, taking care not to wake the sleepers on the porch. The day before had been chilly and windy, making the lake choppy and unfit for boating. But this morning my eyes had flown open with the realization that I could not hear the breaking of waves on the rocky shoreline. The lake was still.

We tumbled out the door and drew in a sharp breath at the view that greeted us. Mornings on Moosehead Lake are unlike any other. The lake lay before us, a still mirror reflecting the blueness of a cloudless sky. The sun crested over the tops of the trees, just beginning to light up the little round island that lies straight ahead. Its sole inhabitant, a small red cabin stuck jauntily on its cragged surface, peeked out between crowded pines. A shallow mist had settled on the surface of the lake and rocks rose up sharply out of the water, silhouetted black against the blue.

Lace and I pulled the kayaks into the water, clambered in and eagerly pushed off. Our first few moments were spent exulting in the beauty around us, giddy in the freedom those little boats gave us, the ability to go anywhere and see anything, a whole playground for us to explore while the world slept. Only ourselves and nature, awake with the sun.

As we sped along, stopping often to take a picture or contemplate the vastness that surrounded us, I peered into the watery depths below me, apprehensively expecting to see a loon swim under and pop up nearby. The water of the lake is inky black where it is deep, but as the lakebed races upward toward the surface you begin to see a whole world emerge. Sometimes there is sand scattered with clam shells, but often you see rocky shoals or boulders that push their way up and threaten to scrape against the bottom of your boat. Once in awhile these boulders break the surface and the water licks hungrily around them or scrub trees grow on their licheny surface. In the coves, the trunks and stumps of long dead pines litter the lake bed, a crisscrossed graveyard of once majestic tress, now rotting in the muck that settles above and below everything in the lake waters. Way back in the marshy areas the water appears red, due to a high concentration of iron in the soil and marsh grass and lilies float casually on the surface. Bleached white stumps rise up grotesquely and stare eerily at you as you float past and the quiet banks of granite and pine seem to hold secrets that they dare not breathe. Once in awhile you will come upon a moose, picking its way through the muck to nibble on sweet grasses or you will see an eagle swoop down and pluck a fish from the lake.

As my sister and I rounded the point, the lonesome cry of a loon greeted our ears and we came upon a group of six, diving under the water in search of minnows. They let us get pretty close, their red eyes watching us warily as we paddled near and then diving under when we came too close, only to pop up further off, teasing us to follow.

It had been a glorious morning and our arms ached with the effort of pulling on our paddles. We tied our kayaks together, the water rippling around us as we floated unencumbered.We unwrapped blueberry muffins that our Grammy had baked the day before, light, airy, and plentifully punctuated with the small blue fruit that grows wild in the brambles of Maine. The sun felt warm on our faces as we munched and the cry of a loon hung in the air. It was a perfect moment, just me and my sis on a lake in Maine.

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These muffins really are best with wild, Maine blueberries. Not only are they more flavorful than cultivated berries but they are also much smaller, which allows you to have more blueberries distributed throughout your muffins. Fortunately, you can get them in the frozen section of your grocery store. I know Wymans is one brand. Of course, you can also make them with cultivated if you choose!

Blueberry Muffins

Makes 10 muffins

1 3/4 cups sifted flour

2 1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 cup sugar

1 beaten egg

1/4 cup butter, softened to melting

1/2 cup milk

1 cup wild Maine blueberries (or regular blueberries work too)

The recipe calls for sifted flour. This means that you sift a bunch of flour and then measure the amount that you need. So sift first, measure second.

(Consequently, if the recipe said 1 3/4 cups, sifted, you would measure first and sift second.

So confusing, I know.)

Anyway, in a medium bowl, combine the sifted flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.