One of the utter pleasures of living here is the hedgerow all down one side of the “field” part of the garden. The top of this area is a low wall that has obviously been there for ages and has “history”, then a few shrubs and trees on the side with our lovely neighbour, and the riverbank at the bottom. The hedgerow side is made up of elder (berry profusion imminent), hawthorn, ivies and willow and other trees. And a ridiculous amount of brambles = blackberries! And most of us are partial to such.
So far we’ve had three forays, picking a good kilo each time of just the ripest that almost leap into your hand, resulting in one big jar of jam, one Kilner jar of blackberry vodka and one of rum, plus some puddings, and a couple of punnets to the aforementioned lovely neighbour. Hopefully the weather will be such that we can harvest plenty more, even with leaving ample for the birds and insects – there’s a wealth beyond reach, too.
An odd thing, mind, is that my aim is never better than when tossing a handful of the ripe berries into the bucket (OK, so it’s a wide bucket, but my aim is truly atrocious).
Next year we will train the brambles for better reach, perhaps, although we rather love the wildness of it all; this is not a garden for taming…