Saturday morning dawned and for the first time in a while, a downpour didn’t look imminent. After this summer, I have however modified my interpretation of imminent to “don’t think I will get wet in the next ten minutes or so”.
A friend from Kehelland was also early to rise and after pondering a bike ride, we settled on a stroll over to Rosewarne for a little blackberrying. I’d noticed when last on a walk toTehidy that the hedgerows were ripe with plump blackberries and thought it’d be a shame to waste them all.
Perhaps it was the unprecedented sunshine; perhaps the competitive spirit; whichever it was, it was nearly three hours later that we found ourselves staggering back towards Treswithian, with tubs overflowing, juice-stained hands, bramble injuries and nettle-stung legs galore. A delicious crumble ensued that evening and the freezer is well-stocked for more treats as the weeks go on.
I fear this may turn into an obsession as now I can’t so much go for a run or a walk without noticing legions of blackberries waiting to be picked and hope to make the most of this bumper crop before the brambles start to wither as autumn draws in.
I’ve noticed a couple of mature gentlemen out blackberrying since, but no young uns, I hope that now I have relinquished my position as the youngest Town Councillor that I am not the youngest blackberryer in Camborne!