First of August . . . a country walk . . . and I’m amazed at the fruits: how early, how abundant . . . .
Cherry-Plums (aka mirabella), only fruit in very hot summers . . .
. . . which probably explains why I came upon a lane lined with these golden fruits: nobody was aware they were there, so they remained unpicked. They taste divine, like a good English plum should, though they’re only the size of a cherry
This wonderfully blue sloe is the fruit of the blackthorn (whose blossoms turn our hedgerows white in early spring). Not to be eaten. Not poisonous, just impossibly tart
I don’t think I’ve ever seen the hawthorn bear its haws so early. I’m guessing the birds will soon strip them.
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