By Tressa Versteeg
From our July 2024 issue
Wild blueberries thrive down east, having taken root in the region’s thin soil after glaciers receded more than 10,000 years ago. Which is precisely why a large, purple geodesic dome now rises from the earth on the side of Route 1 in Columbia Falls. Marie and Dell Emerson built the structure in 2001, a few miles from their farm, Wescogus Wild Blueberry. The dome was initially intended as a farmstand, offering better visibility than their tucked-away barrens. They sold fresh wild blueberries as well as blueberry jams and blueberry pies.
But the place quickly grew from a business initiative into an evangelistic mission to spread the good word of Maine’s state berry. “You’re saving multigenerational farms by promoting wild blueberries,” Marie said one recent morning, clad in a blue fleece vest, a blue-striped shirt, and blue pants. “I try to wear blue all the time,” she noted, while explaining that everything about the dome is intended to pump up wild blueberries as “a national treasure.”
Over the years, Wild Blueberry Land, as it was called, became a sort of museum, adding more and more displays dedicated to history, geology, and ecology. (Dell’s favorite explains the role of canned wild blueberries as a “secret weapon” for the Union Army during the Civil War, a vital source of nutrition sent to the troops. Outside the dome, massive marine buoys, painted blue, dot the property, and a mini-golf course used up lots of blue and purple paint too.
The Emersons are fixtures of the state’s blueberry industry. Dell worked at the University of Maine’s wild-blueberry research farm for 53 years, and they’ve both been active in various efforts to help promote wild blueberries more widely (including the idea to gin up interest in creating a national heritage area). But longtime visitors will have noticed some changes at the purple dome in recent years. In 2016, Wild Blueberry Land became a nonprofit. Last year, Marie, who’s in her 70s, stopped baking in the dome because she was needed at Wescogus with Dell, who’s nearing 90. “I’m just back to the farm doing what I always did with Dell,” she said — harvesting and selling berries.
Now, Wild Blueberry Land has changed its name to the Wild Blueberry Heritage Center, and it has a board of directors stewarding it forward. Marie is on the board, along with a mix of community organizers, businesspeople, and academics. Under the big purple dome, the overarching goal to raise the profile of wild blueberries remains the same. “This almost 12,000-year-old ancient crop, it’s so biodiverse and so interconnected to all the wildlife,” Marie says. “It’s one of the last real things left.”