Tag Archives: orchard

Harvesting fruit, creating memories

The most delicious fruit

The most delicious fruit

When I was a kid I once spent a summer in France. I remember sitting in a cherry tree gorging on the cherries until I could eat no more. And picking deep purple figs that were deliciously sweet and squashy. The fruit of the south.  Quite different where I grew up in Yorkshire. The fruit is of the north, but just as delicious. And now is the time to indulge.

Ripe plums

Ripe plums

Last weekend was harvest. The whole family in the garden to get in the fruit before it fouls. A good moment, productive, memorable, everyone working together.

Umpteen barrow loads of apples

Umpteen barrow loads of apples

Enough plums to feed an army

Enough plums to feed an army

Good experience for the kids

Good experience for the kids

Soon he'll reach higher than me.

Soon he’ll reach higher than me.

Even Mrs P is in on the action

Even Mrs P is in on the action

Picking and storing the apples, stoning and freezing the plums. Enough fruit to get through the winter and into the spring. We’ve harvested the fruit and we’ve also harvested the experience. These are family activities that will linger long in the memory.

Pack it away carefully...

Pack it away carefully…

We do actually have a cherry tree in the garden. Been there for 35 years, and I’ve never got a single cherry off it – the birds eat them before they ripen. So my cherry memories will remain in France. Apples and plums belong to England.

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Mist and mellow fruitfulness

I went to visit my Dad this weekend. Bit of a crisis, Mum had to go into hospital, so I zoomed up the A1 to York to give my Dad a hand.

A portrait in the garden

Whenever I visit, we always walk around the garden. A chance to stretch the legs and get some fresh air. My Mum’s garden really, certainly the flowerbeds are – she put years into those deep borders. But the areas that catch the eye now are the orchard and the meadow. The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness is almost upon us.

Sweet eaters

The old bench

This is a garden that has matured and settled into a slow rhythm. It has its secrets and surprises.

An angel in the undergrowth

Flitter

Seed head

That slow rhythm is wonderful though: Flowering, ripening, setting seed, rebirth. And memories, gardens always have lots of memories.

My Mum came back from hospital. We were relieved and thankful. Life goes on.

A kiss