Armed with my big canvas bag and scissors, I roamed the lanes this afternoon in search of wild flowers to refill the vases and jugs. The selection is dwindling. A couple of weeks ago, I could find masses of clover and purple scabious plus several other kinds whose names I don't know. All that's left now is mostly cow parsley, fennel turning to seed and, here and there, other kinds. If anyone can identify them, please do.
As these summer flowers leave the stage, enter the berries. As I walked and picked, I ate handfuls of mûres--blackberries--which, like blackberries everywhere vary hugely in sweetness and flavour from one bush to another. I also gathered some strands of the scarlet-berried briony that hang like bright necklaces on the hedges. They now have a home along the top of the stove.