We’re smack-bang now in Autumn, my absolute best-loved season. All I can see are my favourite colours and creatively, that’s just so inspiring. It’s also the time of harvest, of gathering, and in ye olden days that meant hoarding enough supplies to keep you warm and to see you through Winter. When I was a girl, harvest only meant one thing – blackberries. Ker-ching! So voracious was my picking and eating of those darkest of delights, I must have single-handedly deprived the rest of my town the pleasure of eating them for many, many years. Seriously. A purple-stained mouth (and upset tummy) was normal for me when those berries were ripe. I can almost taste the sourness now, setting my teeth on edge yet perversely making me want more at the same time.

The berries aren’t ripe  just now in Edinburgh but when they are, I think I will take my daughter blackberry picking for her first time although I won’t encourage her to eat them straight from the bramble and put her off eating them for life, no, better to head down the blackberry jam tarts route.

Anyhow, to welcome October officially, a few lines from a delightful (but quite long) poem by John Clare.

The summer-flower has run to seed,

And yellow is the woodland bough;

And every leaf of bush and weed

Is tipt with autumn’s pencil now.


And I do love the varied hue,

And I do love the browning plain;

And I do love each scene to view,

That’s mark’d with beauties of her reign.


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