Is there a lovelier feeling, a happier sight at the close of summer than, as Sylvia Plath wrote: “Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries”; picking with no one and nothing to hurry you in the precious dimming days, when your skin knows the holidays are coming to an end.
Autumn prefers tarts to unfurl a roof to become pies, so this is for days when you need a little summer, even in October.
