Cycling; it's all about the foraging isn't it?

Sorry, not been on here for ages. One I've been away in America for, well, August really. That was a fair old schlep. Then, coming back, it's straight into jam making season so all of my cycle rides have been spent in hedgerows. No gnar for me, no chasing the latest Strava time. Instead it's been the old bike, ride slow to some secret spot.

What have I found? There's the usual culprit, the blackberry of course. Lots of those about, and where you get those you get Elderberry. Around here these two are accompanied by the Sloe from the Blackthorne bush. Bit early to pick those according to folk lore, yet since folk lore was spoken freezers have been invented; no need to wait now for them to split.

Raspberries, a few of those. Hawthorne, Juniper and Rowan are around. Lots of plum varieties too, along with apples of all variants. Been looking at Rosehips, yet they look a right faff. Full of hair.

The main problem for me, though, with all this abundance, is that I don't actually enjoy the process of picking. It's, well, boring standing in a field filling your backpack with stuff. Yet at the same time there's a compulsion to pick. Riding through Kent the other day, there was a huge blackberry bush. I was thirty miles from home. I still stopped to pick.

Of course there's a downside. One you have to make things with it all. That takes ages, and all seem to involve huge quantities of sugar. Then, well, a more fundamental one. Yesterday was plum picking. Too ripe for the bag? I'll eat that! Must have eaten 40, easy. Today, on the way to work, needed the toilet.


My rides are now no longer about the ride, or the bike, or indeed the cafe any more.