"I suppose all woods everywhere are really just different bits of the one wood, pushing up through the earth like the different bits of the sky that shine through the clouds are the same sky."
Elizabeth Goudge, in Herb of Grace
I can't tell you how immensely I enjoyed this lovely novel and another by the same author, "Bird in the Tree." Mid-twentieth Century writer I've just discovered. Seems she had some acclaim in her day, and was forgotten. Do tell me what you think if you've encountered her, as I would like other perspectives.
Pictured are blackberry brambles. I picked like a bear, with tongue and paw and saved them up for the long cold winter.
Blackberries vary surprisingly. We have tart black raspberries, small and dainty covered in delicate prickers, as well as blackberries on our land. In just one corner of a valley on the property, there are blackberry canes thicker than a man's thumb, with long strong thorns guarding drooping clusters of heavy berries as big as acorns, juicy and dark and sweet. These are barbs that will rip your jeans if you rush by, leave a bright scratch on a forearm, punch into a finger and leave it smarting for days.
It is because they guard treasure!