Gooseberries..........Just that word and you see them. Boxes full to the brim with just-picked fruit. So I didn't take photos because I know your mind's eye is already making pictures of it's own.......isn't it? See.
I forgive them the scratches they sketched up my forearms, how they made me kneel down in damp earth to reach under low branches lined with spikes. I'm ready to forget how the new stems were as ruthless as the old wood that taught them how.
We harvested in sudden heat after a night's rain, the woody mulch remembering it was once a forest. And we grabbed handfuls of jewel fruit fit to burst with juice when they hit the pan. A fine prize for stings and splinters, a few bad words and perseverance.
Just a handful for now, oozing through the kitchen, savoured teaspoon by teaspoon sitting by the back door, quiet, one thing at a time. And the rest is freezer-stashed for short dark days when mid Summer light is distant and this taste will sing again.