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 ...
Hahaha! I love it! And unfortunately it's true!
ReplyDeleteSadly, it is.
DeleteCounting the days.
ReplyDeleteMe, too.
DeleteThat's funny! :-)
ReplyDeleteIn one sense it is; in another, it is absolutely infuriating.
DeleteThe old Hillary couldn't play guitar. It must be the clone who did it. Or a special talent obtained from her head injury. Now I'm heard it all...no, wait, we haven't. Maybe we'll all wake up and find it has all been one horrible reality show and this isn't happening. What's next?
ReplyDeleteWhat indeed? Every time we think the reality showman and his followers can't sink any lower, they find new depths. The next seven weeks are going to be absolutely miserable.
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