An English country garden conjures up the magic of summer . Reading Three Men in a Boat or The History of Mr Polly under the shade of a big oak tree with a cottage loaf, a chunk of cheddar, a pickled onion and a glass of olde English cider or ale. Too warm and lazy to move, you listen to the hum of the bees, the distant put-put of a lawn mower ans smell the honeysuckle and roses. Oooooohh it's heaven!
On Strawberry Pickin'You have the tremendous joy and satisfaction of the back breaking toil in the mid-day sun to pick those berries when they are just ripe and warmed, to be able to take them home on your bike, which you thought you were still young enough and fit enough to ride. (well the idea seemed idyllic). Then to stand some more to wash and hull them, and get your beautiful soft white hands red and sore. So you can stand some more in a hot kitc
hen, over a hot preserving pan until you miss the setting point and have to panic! But, the real beauty of strawberry pickin’ is that all the work becomes a labour of love when your jars are full of luscious whole strawberry jam (enough to feed an army) and you have your own homemade labels on the jars and your shelves look just like the Waltons’ pantry. Well all that done I’m off to bed to rest my aching back and toil no more (today!). ‘Nite Grandma, ‘nite Erin, ‘nite John Boy...Now, About Picnics...
"..."They rode d
own the river past the Wild Wood as far as the old water mill, there, Rat, bought out his boat alongside the river bank so they could set out a picnic."What have we got?" asked Mole, who was hungry.
"There's chicken and ham and salad and lemonade and cake and chocolate biscuits..."
"Oh, my!" said Mole."
This quote of Kenneth Grahame's says it all to us, this must be truly the simplest picnic ever written about and yet the most remembered with affection and aspired to.
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