Raspberry Beret

Autumn has arrived and the last time I wrote about my hedgerow adventures was Spring! Not that I haven’t had any. I’ve just been too busy enjoying them to find the time to write about them.

The memorable harvest for me this year was Raspberries. I’ve always managed to get an adequate supply of leaves but somehow seem to miss the best of the berries. Not so this year. Recruiting help not only increased the yield but passed a pleasant couple of afternoons by the river. It is a day of solo gathering that shines in my mind though. It was a hot day in early August and, for me, the best way to spend days like that is in the welcome shade of the woods. Sunshine still managed to glitter down through gaps in the canopy however, occasionally revealing a jewel-like raspberry hiding behind a leaf.

The best of them; the most perfect, plumpest, juiciest of pinky-red ones; never made it to the bag. They were, of course, enjoyed on the spot. A refreshing taste bomb enjoyed with eyes closed and a little squeak of delight as I shuffled contentedly through the woods humming Prince songs to myself.

But Raspberry picking is not an occupation without its hazards. Although the prickles of this plant are relatively benign, she often lives close to her more aggressive cousin, the Bramble. And, when Bramble has a hold of you, only patience, gentleness and soft placations will eventually extract you from his rough grip. I also discovered, to my cost, that Raspberry has another ally, safeguarding her from our foraging raids. With eyes on the juicy prize, my greedy fingers reached deep into the hedgerow for the best berries; always at the back, just out of reach; oblivious to the Nettles threatening to tickle my chin until a breath of wind woke me from my trance as they said hello a mere millimetre from my nose. I soon realised that the best ones are not always at the back. They are right in the heart of the hedgerow surrounded by a cohort of prickly, caustic protectors, waiting to grasp your ankle or sting your unsuspecting underarm!

Although I managed a respectable harvest, I’m still 400g short of a full demi-john of wine so I’m open to ideas on what to top it up with. Will Apple be too dominant a flavour? Bramble? Should I go with Nigel Slater’s idea that “What grows together goes together” and add some Nettles too? Maybe I’ll give up the idea of wine and make vinegar and syrup instead. Some of the harvest inevitably made it into a jar of vodka. This is a stunning big Raspberry punch on the nose but with perhaps a bit too dry a finish to it. Maybe the raspberries in the freezer might end up as a liqueur…? Made with vanilla sugar…? I’ll let you know how it goes…

Last Days of Summer

                        Last weekend we finally got round to taking a well-earned break before going back to Uni. We didn’t go far, just to a small campsite in Fife, but wow did we get the weather for it! From the minute we arrived the overcast sky began clearing and each day just got better than the last, culminating in a perfect blue sky for Monday’s Equinox. We arrived late in the afternoon on Saturday and by the time we got the camp set up there wasn’t much opportunity for a good look around. That said, I was (sometimes literally) tripping over herbs whilst pitching the tent. Our pitch was called Catkin and the entrance was a pathway through some young Birch trees with our area marked out by a low hedge of Brambles, some of which were making a bid for freedom onto the grassy path. Getting down on the grass to pitch the tent soon showed us why the site was called Strawberry Fields; it was covered with Wild Strawberry plants, but sadly with no actual berries on them. It also had a healthy proportion of Plantain, as all good grassy areas should, in my opinion. As the sun set on our first night another herb which caught my eye was Lady’s Mantle. Most of it had long since finished flowering, as has mine at home, but there was one small fresh patch still with those tiny yellow flowers shining out amongst the seedheads in the field – Summer hadn’t quite gone yet. 

                        Walking round the site next morning it seemed the birds had had the best of the Elderberries. Fair play really and I wasn’t harvesting anyway because I only had a camp kitchen so processing was out of the question. The hedges were heavy with Haws though as well as Rosehips which just shone out against the dark woodland backdrop as the sun lit them up. The clearings in the woodland were teeming with wild herbs but the one which interested me this time was Horsetail. I enthused about its virtues to much polite nodding but when I mentioned the silica content and its ability to polish pewter he got interested. I was informed that this is because silica is higher up the Mohs hardness scale than pewter. The conversation then veered off onto diamonds and iron and cleavage planes… We did, however, take some back to camp with us (Horsetail not diamonds). As predicted it didn’t make a dent in the stainless steel pots but it did a splendid job of scouring the food off them; a handy herbal camping tip. I also found some Meadowsweet under the Birches which I made a tea from in an attempt to shift a thumping headache on Monday morning. It had gone to seed but I threw some leaves into my morning tea which then tasted of Disprin – bleuch!! I drank it anyway but it didn’t really help. Several litres of water and a fried breakfast also failed mind you so the only real solution would probably have to been to NOT have drunk all that wine on Sunday night!   

                        Sadly I don’t have that many pictures for this post. So, instead I’ll just share my Equinox Sunset and the First Sunrise of Autumn…