A gift

Brambles is the word I would call them, especially as we gathered these beauties locally, but will allow the late and great Seamus to call them as he wished.  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,… Continue reading A gift

A glisk

On return from a short break up to the wilds of Ardnamurchan, we found this beautiful hand-drawn image on our kitchen chalkboard. A gift from our lovely dog-sitter, the talented Diana Notman. All the more lovely as it is fleeting.

Summer offerings

As, possibly, the only person on the planet who cannot seem to grow the simple potato, I am delighting in my flowering plants. This, allegedly, is some kind of celeriac. It may be edible but, for now, I think it I will just look at it. It surely deserves that.    

Wild Garlic

Wild Garlic Transgressive plant  slipping definition. Lily-of-the-Valley dainty yet bitingly assertive adding piquancy to our meal as we talk of how it is for us this mid May evening. Constellations of miniature stars cut from a mass of edible foliage hefted from a cool corner of a manse garden where Stevenson played, now perfume and… Continue reading Wild Garlic