It is the blackberry season.
My granddaughter Rebecca is nine today.
Her family came up at the weekend.
Rebecca noticed blackberries along the hedgerows as they drove along the Irish country road near our home.
Jacob my son is enjoying living in the country.
He offered to take Rebecca and her two sisters out to play while we talked with their mum and dad.
I remember when my sisters and I went blackberry picking.
The local store collected the fruit and we earned a certain amount for each pound.
We valued the extra money. It was an incentive to go out along the hedgerows looking for the black berries.
We competed with each other to see who would have their jar filled first.
When we filled a small jar we would empty it into a bigger container.
Our fingers were covered in the black juice, as were our lips.
Last week we visited a friend who offered us fresh blackberry sauce and custard. It was delicious.
So Rebecca’s mum will be making some blackberry conserve.
The family will remember their visit to grandma’s house.