when I walk around the village where I grew up, I see with affection, all that was commonplace in my childhood environment - much of which was spent exploring outdoors. The forest ferns, nastertia flower borders, fallen acorns, crab apples, elder flowers and elderberries, blackberries abundant, to name but a few.
We used to forage the fruits and there would follow jams, pies and elderberry wine. One year, we even picked stinging nettles to make beer. I do not remember it being a huge success.
My favourite was always the damsons. Strong in flavour and perfect for jam and crumbles. The season for damsons is now, and the fallen fruit lies rotting all around as though no one can be bothered with them.
So I took a bag on my walk, and brought some home to cook. Picking out each stone meticulously gave me a hint as to perhaps why the fruit lies untouched by humans. But if you are not pressed for time, it is no hardship to suck each stone clean before binning it to make sure that none of the deliciousness goes to waste.
Although some of these were picked at the end of Gooseberry lane, most were from Little Switzerland. Only I rather liked the idea of damsons from gooseberry lane so excuse the artistic license.
Yes, I think that title could have a whole story attached to it- a lovely reminiscent tale of childhood and capturing its lost pleasures. It sounds quaint and nostalgic. I have never had damsons but your writing has me intrigued about their taste. Good shot!
my sister and i when we go around the market or the city, and we would see things that spark memories of our childhood, we sure felt giddy. we may not be "home" but we do remember the good things and times we'd had. we had something similar to this, but a lot darker so we didn't dare get any drippings in our clothes or we'd be in trouble. furthermore, mother would find out that we've been climbing the tree and as you know in those days girls weren't supposed to be climbing trees! this did indeed triggered a nice memory. aces!
September 29th, 2020
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