I love this Flower Fairy poem by Cicely Mary Barker. It aptly describes me and my love of all things autumn. I read it out at my wedding (almost six years ago), and think of the delicate rhyming lines often:
The Song of the Blackberry Fairy
My berries cluster black and thick
For rich and poor alike to pick.
I'll tear your dress, and cling, and tease,
And scratch your hands and arms and knees.
I'll stain your fingers and your face,
And then I'll laugh at your disgrace.
But when the bramble-jelly's made,
You'll find your trouble well repaid.
It appears in 'A Flower Fairies Treasury', bought for me by my mother, and I love all the intricate illustrations for each of the fairies. Call me a dreamer.
I remember picking blackberries with my Dad in years gone by, as a child and as an adult. Is it true that blackberries often grow near railway lines, or have I made that up?
Blackberries would likely have been used to dye fabrics and yarns years ago (and perhaps still are?). They put me in mind of thorns and woodland forages and frosty mornings with hot toast and jam.
Here's some recent photographs of blackberries growing in the hedgerows around me.
Do you like picking blackberries? Do you believe in fairies?