Hunter gatherer blackcurrant picker
We are all hunter gatherers…fact. So spending a lazy afternoon with the folks picking blackcurrants in their garden feels pretty good. Shop bought berries are not the same, they taste different, they are not as fresh, none of them look uneven and are generally lacking bugs.
I remember watching a sketch with an Aussie comedian Mark Little, who likened shopping to primitive man hunting through the aisles then gathering what he needed and leaving. In then out, we still have that caveman approach.
But today is not like that, we have fun and share jokes, there is no time schedule, we just enjoy the moment in our own timeframe.
The garden feels a much kinder environment and foraging and picking your own is rewarding, it slows you down and modern day life forgets you. The birds are also singing, probably chatting that they too need to do their harvest as the wind is blowing.
Some berries are ripe, some not, some squish in your hand, the red and purple juices stain your fingers. Some fall to the floor, some big, some small, some disappear into the bush. My parents talk about the crumble they will be making for their friends later, and how tart that will be.
Who has the most, who has the least, who has the biggest, who has the best – everyone is a winner and everyone is happy. We have been doing this for years and each year they seem to get better.
Last year in our garden we had plenty too, but this year there are none. Luckily we can share our harvest and maybe I too can make a crumble when I get back home.