The inherent seasonality of fruit reminds us of the evolution of the year, writes Charlie Ellis. The ripening of blackberries ushers in autumn, their perishing heralds the first signs of winter approaching.
It’s been a long season for blackberries. For me, it started in early July. In the stunning scenery of Grandport Nature Park on the fringes of Oxford, I came across bushes adorned with large, succulent berries. They were, even for southern England, unseasonably ripe; brought forward by extended periods of above average temperatures.
Meagre offerings
The size and plenitude of fruit I saw in Oxford was in marked contrast to the meagre offerings I encountered on a recent walk from Canonmills towards Five Ways Junction on the North Edinburgh Path Network. Wild brambles and other ‘food for free’ are very common along these green ‘active travel’ corridors.
With September on its way out and the evening chill becoming more pronounced, this felt like my last chance to pick a worthwhile quantity of berries. The last knockings of harvest time. I was keen to grab a few, to convert into a ‘rustic’ coulis to add a bit of a fruity tang and vibrant colour to my overnight oats.
Just out of reach
The Goldenacre Path is one of the best places for blackberries in the city; with a substantial number of bushes, most of them within reach. This is in contrast to other spots, where you have to risk life and limb to reach nice fruit. The best ones are always just out of reach. There’s a life lesson there.
As I walked from bush to bush, usable berries were in short supply. Many of the bushes were bare, while in other places the berries were shrivelled and dried, like burnt raisins.
In some spots, there were a few under-ripe berries, crimson or green. You wonder whether, if they have not ripened by now, perhaps they never will. As I was going to boil the berries, I tore off a few of these immature fruits to add to my bag.
A hint of pity
I hadn’t gone out with the intention of picking berries but as I spotted a few fruits, I dug into my bag for something to put them into, fishing out a plastic document sleeve. My pickings could be observed – and judged – by other path-users.
When picking berries at peak season, I would get some envious glances aimed at my packed punnet. When picking raspberries in June (along the Blackhall Path through Drylaw), some of those who passed me were inspired to do the same, such was the quantity and quality of the fruit. On my latest, impromptu, picking sessions, all I got were some surprised looks, with more than a hint of pity.
The frugal pickings in my plastic pocket failed to impress. I had a sense that the season had passed and I should let it go. Like an older man desperately trying to comb over an expanding bald patch, it was probably time to admit defeat. I kept going, convinced that there would be some pickable fruit. I was right.
Diminished bushes
As I neared Five Ways Junction, things picked up, even if pouching the best berries required me to step into the bushes, getting my trousers caught on the thorns. There were no easy pickings here. Beyond the junction, on Hawthornvale Path, I was met with a slightly pathetic sight: a large section of bushes, seemingly devoid of usable fruit. I found just one berry. The bushes were much diminished in vigour and it was easy to see pieces of litter scattered among them. These reduced bushes, ready to go into hibernation, were as clear a harbinger of winter as anything.
Foraging etiquette
After washing the berries well, I put them in the pan, adding a bit of Cretan honey to counter the sharp ‘tartness’ of the fruit. Within 5 minutes, the mixture was bubbling nicely, the green berries overwhelmed by the dark claret. After cooling, the mixture was jarred. It will, for a week or so, keep the late summer spirit going. So, I have ended my fruit picking for 2025. I’ll maintain a bit of foraging etiquette, by leaving some berries for wildlife and others.
My next ‘food for free’ will start to emerge in late March: the wild garlic that grows in abundance along the Water of Leith (including in Spurtleshire; opposite the Stockbridge Colonies on Rocheid Path).—Charlie Ellis
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