My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...
That male is a startling looking fellow with his rose breast and the white patches in his wings. I love this time of year when I hear all manner of birdsong not usually heard. It is like we are a motel on the way north!
ReplyDeleteMotel or bed-and-breakfast. Yes, that describes it very well!
DeleteGreat pictures. Appreciate you sharing.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Martin.
DeleteThe male is very good looking.
ReplyDeleteTrue of many species of birds - it's the male who is the "peacock" so to speak.
Delete