It is August, the month of foraging, and almost every day I am gathering or processing fruit—or this year, for the first time, mushrooms. Last Tuesday I cycled the six or eight miles to the lowest pull-out in one of the canyons south of town, where the Hyalite stream slows and broadens by a little stony beach. There I met a friend and her two young children, with whom I picked a few service berries (Saskatoon, June berries) before abandoning them all to go upstream into swifter, deeper waters, looking for black currants.
I hit the jackpot. They were profuse and ripe, hanging in long drupes under their large, grape-like leaves; I could simply pull down, stripping the berries cleanly from their stems, gathering enough for jam in minutes. Th
Read more…