Back again after a short break, partly re-arranging the house to accommodate my new studio/office and partly a holiday in the little fishing village of Mevagissey in Cornwall.
In the space of the week in Mevagissey, the season changed perceptibly from hot summer days to the first crisp taste of autumn. While I was away, I heard that the poet, Seamus Heaney had died. The news saddened me, as he was among my favourite poets, and I had decided only days before to attend his lecture at the forthcoming Manchester Literature Festival in October. While walking along the path from Mevagissey to Heligan Gardens, we picked wild blackberries, and I was reminded of Heaney’s lovely poem, Blackberry Picking, from which the lines quoted in the piece below are taken.