Returning from my run this morning, I noticed that the pear tree in the garden is bearing lots of fruit. I picked a couple of pears - rock hard - for later, and wandered back to the house.
As I passed the potato patch, I found myself idly wondering if there were any tubers to be found beneath the withered plants.
Tugging away at the stems, imagine my delight (if you can!) when I found several beautifully purple potatoes hiding not far beneath the surface. I scratched and dug away with my bare fingers to uncover a generous feast - including one that was particularly amusingly shaped.
In the spirit of harvest, this afternoon I indulged myself and took my after-lunch stroll past the blackthorn bushes near the office, where the blueish sloe berries are ready for picking. So much so that they practically fell into my basket - by which I mean re-sealable container - on their way to my sloe gin jars.
Which reminds me that I noticed what I think are quinces on the tree I run past, and a squirrel eating walnuts, and cobnuts in the shops.
Is it Harvest time already?
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