They were hay-making in the meadows today.
That's not a sign you see very often tied to a London gate.
You could tell it was London because there weren't any poppies in the swathes of hay.
Only a few thistles.
But there was a flock of green parrots swooping over the field.
I walked across the meadow, feeling too hot.
Down the blackberry lane.
There weren't many ripe ones but it felt too much like the end of summer.
Then I spent the rest of the afternoon with a pot of Lapsang and Virginia Woolf.
Which felt appropriate as she lived only down the road.
(But did she like orange cake?)
Six am this morning is much dimmer than it was last week, Mary.
ReplyDeleteHow are you liking Jacob's Room? Simon suggested it as my next Woolf read.
I've just started it and so far it's going well, Darlene - but I've only read a few pages. I struggled with Mrs Dalloway, which I've read several times before and enjoyed, but it depressed me this time ... that feeling of the passing of years, which must have washed over me when I was younger!
ReplyDeleteHope you didn't pick too many blackberries! They are two weeks late here in Brittany, so I'm rather hoping they are late in Richmond too, i'd love to compare Breton and Ham Jam!
ReplyDeleteYou're post made me feel quite nostalgic, and I'm relieved to hear the meadows are being cut, the grass was getting long before we left,( I'm not 100% sure where you were, it I know the swathes of river meadows between Kew and Kingston are cut at about the same time)
J x
Not quite ripe, Jude, the ones I tasted were very sour - so there's plenty left for you
ReplyDeleteThanks Mary, I was forced to make a second batch of Apricot Jam yesterday, as the farmer told me mid August would be the earliest before we can pick. Usually there are only enough for a pie when I get home in September :-) Jude x
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