I’ve foraged for blackberries twice now and there are still lots more to come. What a lovely feeling it gives me. Such a simple delight. And so sensual. There is no smell, like there is with blackcurrants (hot, dusty and green) but the sensation of delicately releasing the berry from its stem is gorgeous. They stain my fingers, those fingers already, and now perpetually, stained with Indian ink.
There were two flashes of lightning over the sea this morning as I walked. There was a mysterious magic to it. Did anyone else see it?
