I will have blueberries. Even if I only manage a dozen of them.
A few years ago, Rick and I bought two small blueberry bushes and planted them in the front garden. One promptly died. The other one limped through the season. The next spring, we bought a second blueberry bush and planted it near the old one. The new one promptly died. The old one limped through the season. Clearly, this blueberry bush felt that there was only room for ONE of them in this garden. Last year, I left it alone. It limped through the season.
This year, I stared and stared at the blueberry bush and I'm sure I heard it telepathically tell me to MOVE it. I'm sure of it! And so I moved it. About four feet to the left where it *told* me it wanted to be. From its scraggly limbs, it promptly put forth a pitiful spattering of flowers in appreciation and gratitude and now, several weeks later, I have about a dozen green blueberries.
I look forward to seeing if an entire year in the new location encourages the blueberry bush to be more prolific next year.