I went blackberry picking at the weekend down in Portaferry where I used to go as a child the hedges were full of them and as I did it bit by bit it brought back loads of memories of doing it as a child along with all my sisters and granny it was always a significant event- Blackberry picking. The scrabs on my arms, the juice squashed around my face the teasing of one sister as she didn't like to eat them until they were washed because she always though she was eating insects. These days were followed by watching the jams and crumbles being made and the ,fretting over Jam setting and the warm glow of my grannies kitchen.
I was picking some over in Strangford as well on Sunday and I couldn't help thinking how right and fresh the berries looked. In comparison to seeing a punnet of over engineered plump blackberries in the centre of Paris. Someone no doubt thought of cultivating them for Parisian consumption- I just thought they looked fake. A bit like when you see a women with false boobs, they are supposed to look right but you can't help thinking that they are a bit over engineered and dangerous to get close too.
Anyway Blackberry season always signifies for me, Autumn proper shorter days clear skys sharper weather and the slow fall into winter. The thing about not having a TV is you watch the changes in the seasons more for your shifts of the year. You are often the first to see the changing seasons the shift in the weather. Does it make a difference? A significient difference? noticing? yes I think it does.
Now Jam or crumble what is it going to be?
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