So, about those blackberries.
They seem to be nice and juicy this year, the result of the perfect summer I expect. Yes, I know that there are those of you that think this summer hasn’t been that great, but I shall remember it as one of my sunnier ones. Anyway, we gathered our blackberries on the lane down to the far right beach at Abersoch. There were plenty and the deep purple juice stained my fingers red.
They seem to be nice and juicy this year, the result of the perfect summer I expect. Yes, I know that there are those of you that think this summer hasn’t been that great, but I shall remember it as one of my sunnier ones. Anyway, we gathered our blackberries on the lane down to the far right beach at Abersoch. There were plenty and the deep purple juice stained my fingers red.
As a child blackberry season was a treat and we’d collect
loads, although I have no recollection of what my mother made with them. We just
gathered just enough to make a couple of crumbles. In years gone by this time
of year was so important. It was the jam making, preserving, pickling season and
kitchens would be full of jellies, vinegar, and Kilner jars. Of course it still
happens, but less so and those that do it are usually doing for pleasure rather
than necessity.
We took our blackberries to the cottage and I scrumped some
apples from a neighbours tree so that we could make blackberry and apple crumble.
I remember the scrumping raids as a boy, climbing walls and rushing to the tree
to snatch a pullover-full of apples. My hand-knitted jumpers we always baggy at
the front, what with the carrying of apples, pears, or conkers in my makeshift
woollen basket. I was always in trouble about it – along with everything else.
