laxton's epicure
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 6 January 2024].
firethorn
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 26 November 2023].
I'm mixing things up a bit with a new Friday* series, fruitful, a series of photographs I've taken of fruit that complement two of my other series: a floral tribute and the fungus among us.
These berries are on the Pyracantha plant, commonly known as firethorn, and I photographed them overhanging the back fence of a home that backed onto Pondwicks Meadow in Amersham Old Town.
According to Wikipedia, the English have used firethorn to cover unsightly walls since the late 18th century.
Its thorns also make it an attractive and organic form of home security.
*I try to share photos from these series on Fridays, but sometimes they're belated. But I usually share them on social media the following Friday as part of #FloralFriday or #FungiFriday. This new series will fit the #FruityFriday theme.
a succulent christmas
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 17 December 2022].
of fruits and flowers
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 9 December 2022].
old man's beard
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 3 July 2022].
As with Ochna serrulata, this is another sneaky "floral but not floral" tribute.
These are technically the fruits of the shrub, Old man's beard, or Clematis vitalba. But, they grow out of the inflorescence and sepals of the plant to create infructescence.
And they caught the light so beautifully when I photographed them in Chichester last September, so I'm including them in my series.
holly wood
Day forty-seven of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
American holly by Henri-Joseph Redouté from Histoire des arbres forestiers de l'Amérique septentrionale, volume two
beautyberry
They unfurled the blanket on the damp ground. The sun had appeared. The rain had stopped long enough ago for them to feel confident of a pleasant, warm spring afternoon. But the soil beneath their feet still held a lot of water. And, here and there, raindrops still rested on the leaves, flowers and berries around them.
The berries, in particular, caught their eye. A royal purple. A vibrant, saturated colour set off by the green of the leaves separating the bunches along the branches. The berries clustered in groups at regular intervals along the stem, like disordered regiments at ease on their tea break. Clustered but unorganised.
They talked while they unpacked their afternoon's repast. They laid out their plates, cutlery, glasses. The cheese, crackers, fruit jelly and wine.
The sun licked at their cheeks. Added an extra pinkness to their complexions; a gentle glow.
They kicked off their shoes and took a seat. They nibbled at the tasty morsels they'd gathered together. Feasted upon the cheese; drank deeply of the wine made from the berries that overhung their current resting place. It warmed them from the inside while the spring sun warmed their skin with gentle kisses.
They spread the jam - made from the berries festooning the clearing - across their scones. Placed generous daubs of clotted cream upon it. The sweetness was overwhelming and welcome.
Once they had eaten their fill - talking animatedly throughout - they reclined on the blanket and gazed up at the blue sky. The light breeze caught the berry bushes' branches and caused them to swing in and out of their line of sight.
She looked up at the berries and let her gaze drop in and out of focus. As she let her eyes rest and her focus soften, the berries took on the soft, blurred, bokeh appearance of lights photographed out of focus at night.
She reached a hand up and gently twisted a berry off the branch with her fingertips. The berry still held the last vestiges of the spring shower, causing its purple blush to stain her fingertips as she rolled it between them. She drew the berry under her nose to smell its scent of crushed leaves.
As she turned the berry between her fingers, they talked of immortality in all its guises. The banter between them outlined the potential pitfalls of an eternity of life. They lay side by side curled up against each other, lost in a comfortable silence.
Unbeknownst to each other, both their thoughts turned to how pleasant it would be for this moment to last an eternity. They both sank into this thought, unaware of the collective power it held over them. They closed their eyes and let the spring sun warm their skin as the thought warmed their hearts.
They poured more wine and drank it as they talked more with each other. Listened more to each other. They nibbled at the remaining cheese, sliced apple and beautyberry jam. They roused themselves enough to draw out the Scrabble board and laugh their way through a close game.
As the game ended, the sun's warmth receded. The light had dropped without them noticing while they were absorbed in letters, words, high scores and banter. They pulled their jackets about them, feeling the cool afternoon breeze caress their arms and cheeks.
They gathered up the remnants of their meal. Their belongings. They shook out the blanket. The beautyberries that had fallen onto the blanket as they sat and conversed, teased and taunted, and lost themselves in the moment and each other, scattered around them.
The purple berries settled into the damp grass around them. They unwittingly trampled them underfoot as they moved around the clearing gathering up the detritus of their picnic. As they packed away the last of their picnic items, the remaining morsels of food and drink, and bundled them up, a light shower started to fall.
They moved faster, now conscious the clouds coming in threatened a greater downpour, but they savoured the touch of rain upon their faces. Dampening their hair. They paused as they both reached for the picnic basket.
He paused to wipe away a raindrop from her cheek. She paused to taste of the sweet rain that rested on his lips. They shared one last moment that felt like an eternity before turning to run, pell-mell, for the car.
They reached the warmth and dryness of its interior as the summer rain started to fall with full force. Pelting the windscreen and obscuring them from view of the outside world.