“I fancy making some blackberry and apple crumble today” says the husband from the kitchen. He is still in a roll again. T and I are in the living room. The fire is on, I’m flicking through my Ideal Home magazine and T is on the iPad. She’s only ever allowed to have it on a weekend. I put my magazine down and quip “Not to worry, we shall pick you some fresh blackberries in our garden”.
We have a wilderness behind our old shed at the bottom of our garden. For a while, we toyed with the idea of planting a vegetable plot behind it, but I’m thinking now to let it be. There’s something magical and mysterious about this little plot of land behind that shed. And much to our delight, we’ve discovered blackberries growing in the bushes there.
T and I put our wellies on and this makes Doc excited. He bounds out as soon as we open the door, grabbing a stick along the way and watches us forage. After a while, he gets bored and decides that it’s more fun running around like a loony with a stick in his mouth and he lets little T and I be. It doesn’t take us long and we have enough for the Historian’s recipe and head back inside the house.
Now that’s what I call bliss.
If I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with. – L. Frank Braum, The Wizard of Oz