Berry good year

 

It's been a very good year for Blackberries, quantity wise anyways, unfortunately not so much on taste, with quite a number having a disappointingly bland taste. Maybe as a consequence you've seen more folk out gathering; weirdly though, even with the widespread abundance of blackberries, most of the people I've seen collecting were doing so on the sides of roads; what's that about? According to folklore today's the last day to collect blackberries, or least one of them, I've seen a couple; since Christianity' arrival it's been said that when the Devil fell from heaven he landed in a bramble thicket and cursed the bush, before that though it was a puck or malevolent spirits which rendered the berries foul. That in one form or another a similar story has existed for such a long time suggests there's a real world reason for avoiding late in the season blackberries, which if you've tried them is evident.

Early Blackberries

An early showing for this most abundant of wild fruits. The humble Blackberry. First I've seen this season.

Autumn fruits

It'll soon be Mabon and the period of second harvest, the fruit/berry harvest. The fruiting shrubs of the forest, the Crab Apples, the Hawthorns and Blackthorns all see their fruits swelling, with the potential of good crops. For me, Blackthorn is my main focus, every year I make a litre or two of Sloe gin/vodka, and this years crop is looking good, with good sized fruits. It's exiting, I look forward to this time of year and its foraging potential.

Though now when foraging or using wild foods, I find there's an increasing conflict of ideas and traditions. When to pick, how to process and of course the myriad of old folk lore around both, most of which is based in sound observations and understanding, although I feel climate change now challenges some of the old sayings and ways. Take Blackberries for instance, traditional folklore says you can't pick them after a certain date in September (moveable depending on your geography nationally) as they become the 'devils berry'. Clearly they don't, though there is a chemical change around said dates which makes the blackberries unpleasant eating. It was easier to explain this to a preliterate population by associating it with the Devil rather than trying to explain chemical changes, hence the lore. But this was when seasons were reliable seasons, I think due to climatic changes and seasonal fluidity, the date is more flexible (although at some point the berries taste will change for the worst, that aspect still hold true). This year as we rapidly approach that point of chemical change, the majority of the forest Blackberries are still unripe, and will probably ripen and still be edible after the old cut off date. With Sloes they say pick them after the first frost, but again due to seasonal climatic changes we might not get a frost until after new year, by which time the sloes will all be gone, eaten by the birds. So you've got to take them earlier. The same can be said for so many other forageable resources, the old lore, which endured for centuries, now conflicts with our weather/climate reality.

I think we're going to have to adapt our folklore to reflect our current climate, and not stick so rigidly to the old lore, respect it, though adapt. 

Summer fruits

I saw and picked my first ripe Blackberries of the season today.  Quiet early I thought for Blackberries, though the berries I picked were on the whole sweet and juicy, a few were a touch tart but not that it made eating the fruits unpleasant. It was great taking in the Sun and some of natures bounty. One of the joys of walking is the opportunity to forage as you go, just pastime now, although part of our very existence for hundreds of thousands of years. Blackberries have been found in prehistoric contexts dating back 8000 years or more, it wouldn't have been so long ago that individual, family and community seasonal foraging activities would have been common. Though sadly our disenfranchisement from nature during the second half of the 20th century has meant it remains only as an echo, a shadow of what it was, pursued by a minority. They don't know what they're missing out on.  It may sound strange, but I get a real feeling of connection when engaged with nature in this way, a feeling of timelessness continuity, engaging in the same activities as my ancestors and their ancestors before them, doing something human.  As I said, people don't know what they're missing.