The Proustian Blackberry

Field Notes

We found the first blackberries this week - a cluster of big, fat ones in a suntrap nearby. I popped one in my mouth and was overcome by the flavour of autumn - misty mellow fruitfulness waiting just around the corner. I could taste warm crumble with cream, feel the grains of flour and sugar between my fingers. They call this ‘The Proustian Moment’ - an involuntary memory conjured by a certain taste or scent. The writer Marcel Proust described it in his 1913 novel À La Recherche Du Temps Perdu, when the narrator is overcome by childhood memories after sipping tea with crumbs of madeleine cake:

‘No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin.’

Perhaps the reason I love autumn so much is because it’s such a multisensory season, and it takes me back to happy childhood memories plum scrumping, blackberry picking and celebrating Halloween. It’s the season of dreams! A magical, mystical time that seems to improve with every passing year.

But woah now, guys. I hear you! It’s still only July, stop with all the autumn chat! And actually, I’m really enjoying the summer we’re having. This 20°C sun-and-rain weather is perfect for me - just the right temperature and just enough rain to keep everything green and alive. The budleia in our front garden is crawling with butterflies, and I even spotted my first hummingbird hawk moth on there this week! I’ve also arranged all our pumpkin plants into cute little teepees because when we got back from holiday they had absolutely dominated the garden. We’re talking metres and metres of pumpkin vines in every direction. Our biggest pumpkin is now starting to turn orange and oh my gaahhhddd - but no! No talk of autumn. Hush.

How are the butterflies doing in your neck of the woods? I feel like they’re having a good year, and I’m looking forward to taking part in the Big Butterfly Count to see exactly who is visiting our garden. The Count is happening right now and finishes on Sunday 6th August. It only takes 15 minutes but helps gather important data for butterfly and moth conservation. Today my nephew found this black arches moth on a fallen leaf - isn’t it beautiful?

Yesterday I wrote about passing the tipping point of a big project, and how your perspective can change from paralysing overwhelm to light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel excitement. I have a few more weeks until my next book deadline and I’m pleased that it has tied in naturally with the Wheel of the Year, particularly the approach of autumn which marks the end of an old cycle and start of a new one. There is lots of newness waiting around the corner, but I’m also taking the time to enjoy the last phase of this old cycle, too. The distracting hum of bees and butterflies in the budleia, the swifts circling overhead before they disappear for the winter. And the pleasant, rain-soaked temperatures, in stark contrast to what’s going on for the rest of Europe.

Before I go, I wanted to share this delicious recipe I’ve been making recently, particularly in the lead up to autumn when pears will soon be dropping, sweet and juicy, from the orchard canopies. It’s a Pear and Halloumi Traybake from Riverford, made with Middle Eastern spices, pitta croutons and tahini dressing. An absolute banger.

Something I Made: The Sand Lizard Basic Tee

I’ll be reopening my Etsy shop next month and releasing the autumn designs for Papaver shortly afterwards, but the sand lizard tee is the ideal choice while we’re still enjoying this lovely summer weather. It was inspired by one of the UK’s rarest reptiles, and the only native lizard species to lay eggs rather than giving birth to live young. Cool, non? The females are mottled brown for camouflage while the males turn bright green when they're ready to mate. The design also features stems of the biting stonecrop, a beautiful flowering plant found among dunes, shingle and grassland.

Something I’m Reading: The Gathering Place by Mary Colwell

I’m reviewing Mary Colwell’s new book for Resurgence & Ecologist magazine and it’s fascinating, although as the subtitle suggests, I think I might have preferred to read it in winter. The book is about the author’s pilgrimage along the Camino Francés in northern Spain, but also explores the Covid lockdowns, political changes and climate developments over the last few years. A bit bleak but a great read - I’m looking forward to finishing my review!