Its always been a surprise to me that these don’t grow in the wild here, as in England they seem to be the most tenacious and drought suffering of all plants. I have such memories of my brothers making Blackberry wine, being sent out of the house to go and collect them, blackberry crumble with custard and my brothers again pretending to have their throats cut and dribbling the gore down their chins , blackberries and vanilla ice cream, when the kids were little and we’d been around the estate to pick them. Although they would be ready in August, they seem intrinsic with autumn. Here the heatwave broke and we’ve a delicious coolness in the air, that promise of change but not quite yet. These are the first fruits of our planted bush in our garden, maybe next year, if they survive we may have enough for a crumble. I knew when I took this photo Id have to be quick, as they were very soon munched and enjoyed with all the evocation of childhood and autumn.