Nature is fickle—I assume it is a combination of factors such as sunshine, rain, frost, heat and cold in varying amounts that determine whether the grass grows much or little, how vegetables will grow and how much fruit trees will produce. I do not profess to be much of a gardener—what I like is to observe and gather.
This year we have had a profusion of fruit, starting with cherries. Usually the birds get the lot before they’re even ripe enough to pick, but this year we ate our fill, and made pies and jam. Then the mirabelles, small yellow plums, reappeared en masse after some years where there were few and far between. And greengages on a tree where I’d never seen any before.
We also have walnuts, although I saw a red squirrel skitter up the tree—there are enough for everyone.
The crabapples are the dog’s delight for a mysterious reason (they are hard and sour).
The pears are ripening slowly, as are the apples.
We still have raspberries which stain my morning yogurt a vivid scarlet.
And lovely courgette flowers—they are delicious split lengthwise and sautéed quickly with a drop of lemon. And the courgettes themselves, of course. Together with late tomatoes and green beans.
Finally, lots of flowers still. It is a delight to be outdoors, even though there’s a chill in the air.
Letters from Athens 