Every year, brambles prove themselves to have an unrivalled potential for damaging uncovered skin, but despite the inevitable splintered fingers and scratched forearms, the reward of a haul of glistening inky purple berries carried proudly to the kitchen is well worth the pain. There is huge satisfaction in following all those countless generations of foragers before us, who braved the entangling and piercing thorns without the aid of a fine tipped steel needle and bottle of TCP to disinfect the inevitable damage.
Not only a link to our ancestors, blackberry picking gives us an opportunity to see beyond the brambles seemingly unfriendly embrace. After a summer of pollen and nectar rich flowers, they then offer safety for small birds and mammals as they feast on their share of the berries safe within the tangled stems and then leave evidence in purple stained poo on the path.
Wetter weather creates ideal conditions for fungi to grow on the softening fruit, unpalatable to us but irresistible to flies and wasps, which in turn are predated by spiders waiting patiently, ready to ensnare unwary insects. Their webs delight us as cooler mornings create dew to sparkle like jewels along the fine silk, and now as blackberry season fades it’s the time for ivy flowers to open and for me to peer closely at every insect foraging on them.
I’ve searched for ivy bees with their brightly striped abdomen and furry thorax every year since they first appeared in Britain in 2001, as important a marker of the changing seasons to me now as the blackberries are, and a reminder that the really important things in my garden are not the ornamental flowers I fancy growing, but the ordinary, often overlooked natives, winding their way through the hedges and the unique wildlife they support, hidden in plain sight.
