The blueberries seemed early, but looking back at last year's pictures, I see that I picked my first handfuls on June 13th. Huh. Around the same time I started to make Nigel Slater's peach and blueberry cake. But peaches are nowhere near. So I must have cheated, with Southern peaches. What high standards we hold ourselves to, these locavore days.
I have far fewer blueberries than last year and they are far larger. Go figure. On the roof I have a watermelon the size of a pinhead. It is soft and furry and entirely crushable.
The black raspberries are ripening and are wonderful, if scant. I would love more of them, a whole row. And they would be eaten like so, after dinner, from a beautiful cut glass bowl.
As it is, I eat them on the roof, one by one, tender, dark, with currents of mulberry in the flavour.
Speaking of which. Anyone know a good tree?