Breakfast for me this month has been blackberries from local hedgerows on my walk to feed a cat each morning. They're so large an juicy and fresh and yummy! :)
Maybe I'll go into Epping Forest at the weekend and collect lots and lots and do stuff with them. :)
As a kid, we had a HUGE blackberry patch in front of our house and I spent many a summer day with a 5 gallon bucket, loading up blackberries for the family. I liked it while I was doing it, but the bug bites that would appear at night were horrible.
Now, I can only get them at the grocery store for horridly inflated prices.
The other ones I've tried from local hedgerows have not been ripe, but the ones today were very juicy!
Blackberry and apple crumble, blackberry ice-cream, blackberry yogurt, mmm. I wonder if there is anywhere around here that has enough that I could pick that many. A few weeks ago, I went to a pick-your-own place and got raspberries, loganberries, redcurrants, and tayberries. Very tasty.
Despite millennia jammed with the impossible silk of aroma, intellection's saffron, the grilled cocoon of feeling, not to mention Psyche, Muse, Id, Satori, Melancholy, Eros, Eros, Eros, or the bottomless agony this poem will not praise or bemoan or so much as wince at beyond this line, I offer mulberry, mulberry pure as idea and mulberry dense by the dozen in a blue tureen big as a soccer ball halved, thick bowl glazed blue as mulberries mounded blue-black as Andalucían sky the moment before final black comes, and when it comes (mulberry-inked memory, mulberry equipoise not sweet nor sour), it bursts between tongue and palate, thirst at once made and gratified, lamplit night-nectar sluicing down throats, mulberries hilled on hand-churned ice cream, mulberries spreading dusk on dabbling fingers, swabbing fat tongues, speckling noses and eyelids and cheeks and nothing exists, exists, nothing the mulberry sublime.
Not sure how much at the moment - I am moving house this week, so I think I've already packed the tickets away! Money at the show would be easier for me really.
I was never quite tall enough to pick all the blackberries from my parents' place, since they hung over a rather high wall, but the ones on the roundabout I could reach perfectly well. :)
And i think Kate just posted on the list that she still needed a ticket. I replied i thought we had one but i would check with you. Yeah for helping out campers ;)
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 09:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 10:00 am (UTC)Maybe I'll go into Epping Forest at the weekend and collect lots and lots and do stuff with them. :)
The sad part is
Date: 2004-08-17 10:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 10:19 am (UTC)Now, I can only get them at the grocery store for horridly inflated prices.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 10:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 10:55 am (UTC)Blackberry and apple crumble, blackberry ice-cream, blackberry yogurt, mmm. I wonder if there is anywhere around here that has enough that I could pick that many. A few weeks ago, I went to a pick-your-own place and got raspberries, loganberries, redcurrants, and tayberries. Very tasty.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 10:56 am (UTC)Re: The sad part is
Date: 2004-08-17 10:57 am (UTC)Re: The sad part is
Date: 2004-08-17 11:04 am (UTC)For you.
Date: 2004-08-17 12:24 pm (UTC)Whether birds feel joy in their flight
Whether one's lifework might be something no one wants
Whether one will end up living in a cardboard box
Whether love is an element like air or fire
Such are the questions on their purple tongues.
Copyright © 2002 Jeremy Hooker
All rights reserved
from Adamah
And more berries that are black, even if they aren't blackberries...
Date: 2004-08-17 12:25 pm (UTC)Despite millennia jammed with the impossible
silk of aroma, intellection's saffron, the grilled
cocoon of feeling, not to mention Psyche, Muse, Id,
Satori, Melancholy, Eros, Eros, Eros,
or the bottomless agony this poem will
not praise or bemoan or so much as wince at beyond
this line, I offer mulberry, mulberry pure
as idea and mulberry dense by the dozen
in a blue tureen big as a soccer ball halved,
thick bowl glazed blue as mulberries mounded blue-black
as Andalucían sky the moment before
final black comes, and when it comes (mulberry-inked
memory, mulberry equipoise not sweet nor sour),
it bursts between tongue and palate, thirst at once made
and gratified, lamplit night-nectar sluicing down throats,
mulberries hilled on hand-churned ice cream, mulberries
spreading dusk on dabbling fingers, swabbing fat tongues,
speckling noses and eyelids and cheeks and nothing
exists, exists, nothing the mulberry sublime.
Copyright © 2004 John Repp
All rights reserved
from The Fertile Crescent
Cherry Grove Collections
no subject
Date: 2004-08-18 01:35 am (UTC)Re: The sad part is
Date: 2004-08-18 01:44 am (UTC)OK
Date: 2004-08-18 06:05 am (UTC)Re: OK
Date: 2004-08-18 08:19 am (UTC)Re: For you.
Date: 2004-08-18 08:20 am (UTC)Re: And more berries that are black, even if they aren't blackberries...
Date: 2004-08-18 08:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-18 08:33 am (UTC)He's not
Date: 2004-08-18 08:43 am (UTC)Re: He's not
Date: 2004-08-18 09:11 am (UTC)