Elderberries

Hedgerows in Cambridge are absolutely dripping with shining black clusters of elderberries at the moment, so today we took advantage of a rare break in the relentless rain of this August and spent nearly two hours gathering berries in Grantchester meadows. I absolutely adore foraging for hedgerow fruits and today was tremendous fun, alongside the usual array of glittering dragonflies, wet Labradors, incompetent punting and happy if overly loud tourists waddling back from their creams teas a la Rupert Brooke. I must confess that we got fewer amusingly surprised looks than the last time blackberrying, when our green wellies seemed to make at least one group of Americans think we had been laid on as an especially 'English' photo opportunity. Life in a tourist hotspot is not without its charms. As it was rather too warm for wellies today, I decided that a short skirt and open shoes would be a good sartorial choice , apparently forgetting that 95% of hedgerow goodies require a scramble through a nettle patch first. Fortunately my skills at dancing through nettles reasonably unscathed are fairly well-developed, unlike the various South Africans and Australians of my acquaintance, who invariably find it hard to remember that England has plants that looks so innocuous and yet hurt so much. I delight in introducing them to the humble dock leaf.

We gathered over a litre and a half of elderberries in total. Currently stripped, washed and sitting in the freezer, they are destined to become the first stage of elderberry schnapps tomorrow.