We were up with the lark today to go and pick Mini-B's potatoes. I'm not an early riser, so 6 a.m. felt like the middle of the night, but it was exhilarating to be working outside at that hour with the mist rolling over the fields where red deer were grazing, watching the sun come up over the mountains. Tatties picked, we all sat outside in the morning sunshine eating breakfast of sausage, cheese, bread and white wine.
On the building front: yesterday the batten BB was standing on snapped and he literally had to hang on to the roof by his fingertips - no easy feat for a man whose stomach, when restrained by a white T-shirt, resembles a giant mozzarella. Then another of our helpers, our fireman friend Titi, embedded a wood axe in his thumb and was rushed to hospital. He won't lose his thumb, thankfully, but nor will he be helping out on the roof any time soon.
I picked these tiny wild raspberries when I went walking up in the mountains this afternoon. When the sun shone on them on the bushes they looked like red jewels. The man down at the duck farm makes a gorgeous apéro with them so I've frozen them until I can get his recipe.
3 comments:
Hmmm, here in the northeastern US, domestic raspberries (reds and blacks) ripen from late June to early July. Are these an exceedingly late variety, or ever-bearing, or does summer just arrive really late where you live?
Kathie, I picked these wild rasps at about 1300 metres up in the mountains - where the "summer" arrives later. The domestic variety are ready where we live (at 600 m) from beginning to mid July. At 1300 m now there are still buttercups and daisies which we had in May here in the meadows for just 4 weeks.
Saw your wild raspberry post from last summer. What a treat they are!
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