There is a battle of the reds going on at either end of the cattle gate. To the left, a rose bush, leaning on an elder. Its ordinarily slim hips are an eye-popping scarlet and unusually plump. To the right, a hawthorn, its darker berries swollen from the standard petits pois size to that of garden peas.
This year, nature weathered a wet winter, a spring of perpetual sunshine and sustaining showers through summer to produce a supersized harvest. Other than elder, I do not think any fruiting tree or bush has had a better year here. Our shrunken