30 September 2013


As a child there was nothing I loved more than foraging for fruits on Cleadon Hills or unearthing vegetables from my Grandad's vegetable patch in the back garden. Rhubarb and blackberries were my favourite as there was always a pie to bake or jam to be made. As September rolled into October and the leaves started to turn we would spend an active afternoon, pot in hand, collecting wild blackberries off the bramble bushes that grew rampantly near their house.

This weekend I was excited to give F a taste of my childhood. We took a small tub and headed to Clifton Village where I had found an abundance of brambles on one of our walks. At first F was a bit hesitant but I got stuck in trying to reach the ripest berries without squishing them on contact. He watched on inquisitively and soon we were all weaving through bushes, avoiding the sharp thorns, so dearly protecting its fruit. After 40 minutes and a few scratched arms, we filled our box and headed happily to the park with our bumper harvest and purple stained hands.

I'm a total novice when it comes to making jam, as a child I would get distracted with drawing or playing rather than witness the whole process, so I can't wait to make some jam with F and show him how to enjoy the fruits of the wild.


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