Beautiful Blackberries…

Unmistakeable signs of the season…

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Yesterday afternoon, in the gorgeous, fading early autumn light we headed out for a bit of a walk. Munchkin relished the chance to have a toddle around, and we loved picking fresh wild blackberries from the hedgerow and eating them straight from our hands, our fingers all black and sticky with berry juice.

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Little moments like this remind me how lucky we are to live the life that we do. I know there would have been blackberries in London, but not so easily growing in our own garden, or all along the paths in the village. We could have gone for walks, but they wouldn’t have been quiet, grassy ones with no traffic and the freedom to potter about.

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As we walked home through the village, there was just us, the smell of wood fires and the sound of an owl in the trees. A sort of perfect idyll I feel blessed to be a part of every single day….

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