Brambling

Ripe brambles (blackberries) always herald the start of autumn for me.

These days brambles can be bought year round from supermarkets – grown abroad in warmer climates, with big, blowsy berries. I think the small local ones taste better, collected a bowlful at a time from wild hedgerows.

Wind-salted and intense.

Our brambles ripen a fair time later than those further south. I’ve been waiting for them to ripen properly for weeks now, and spurred on by a kind donation of some locally grown cooking apples, Bramleys and Keswick Codlin, (thank you Wildlife Croft Skye) it was time to get picking.

Our access track down from the croft is incredibly steep. Every week husband bravely drags the big wheelie bin down the track to the collection point in the lane, and back up again afterwards. Just thinking about it makes my head spin a bit. But today I joined him after breakfast, walking with him down the track with the bin to forage for brambles.

They’re just starting to ripen. The next few weeks will be when the bulk of the harvest is at its best, but we managed to gather a respectable bowlful for a few apple and bramble pies.

It was very quiet as we were picking. Just the sound of the rooks cawing overhead and the soft gurgle of the stream rushing through the culvert by our feet. The water was hidden by a tangle of brambles, yarrow, thistles and rowan.

I’m going to head down to the lane and the bramble patches every few days now to make the most of the free bounty whilst it lasts. Any excess can be popped into the freezer for later use.

There’s nothing like a crisp, sweet apple pie studded with little purple bramble taste explosions on the cold, dark days of winter.