Thursday, 18 August 2011
Norfolk last weekend. Heavy rain that made rivulets down the aged glass of the conservatory. Blazing sunshine that allowed us to eat outdoors and walk barefoot on the grass. Double yolked eggs for breakfast cooked by my sister. Roses, sweetpeas, in mugs, vases, jugs all over the house. In the garden, dahlias, in sunrise colours, hiding coyly behind fronds of the asparagus plants. A half-collapsed apple tree, collecting the sour cookers early, packing into boxes. Ladybirds, everywhere. Picking tiny alpine strawberries at dusk, clambering between the young raspberry canes for the first of the season. Digging up potatoes, earth under my nails. Blackberry picking, which always makes me think of the Seamus Heaney poem in my GCSE English anthology. Gorging on peaches.