So, yesterday I set out to find a new jogging path for myself to keep in shape. After consulting Google maps to get a feel from above for my new neighbourhood, I set out to check out a piece of land that looked like a park on the satellite image. Turns out, it is not a flat park, but a little hill managed by the National Trust as a recreation area. It is not very big, so not really suitable for jogging (unless I want to run 20 laps), but it has a beautiful view of the apple orchard next to it and into the Kent countryside. And even better: There are loads of blackberry bushes.
So back to the house quickly to grab a container and back to the bushes. Although it is quite late in the season for blackberries, there were still a few ripe once and even green once (and some had gone off). The trouble with picking them is that the bushes have little thorns. And also blackberry bushes seem to have a thing going on with stinging nettles, the bushes were surrounded by nettle plants. And then the juice of the berries themselves is also very sticky. You need to be careful not to touch your clothes with your juicy hands, I can imagine the stains to be a pain or not coming off at all. In conclusion, picking blackberries is not your thing if you are, say, a hand model.
But I am not and it gives me so much joy eating them straight from the bush (no, I am not afraid of catching an illness – I have eaten straight from the garden/forest since I was a child). After about an hour of picking and cursing at the thorns and nettles I had my container filled and my hands ruined.
But it was so worth it, the berries are so juicy and much tastier than the store bought. And with a view like that I didn’t mind the picking either. Kent isn’t called “Garden of England” for nothing. Let’s see what I will do with the berries. Maybe an apple blackberry pie? Or some muffins? Jam? Suggestions welcome. Now get out of your chair and have a look around your town where you can still find the last remains of summer! Happy picking!