As September draws to a close many a lane is scarlet-studded as bush and tree yields its annual flush of fruit. Here are some, though not all scarlet.
The hawthorn. This year this small-growing tree is heavy with haws . . . which miraculously the birds haven’t yet stripped. Though that could be cos they prefer the sweetness of this next one . . .
I had trouble finding an elder-tree that still had fruit and not just stalks. But it’s not only a favourite of the birds. It makes great jam. And wine.
One sadly stripped tree!
Another favourite for jam-making. And rose-hips are literally jam-packed with vitamin C
The rowan tree (aka mountain ash) is another small tree heavy with red berries this year.
And while with the red berries, these are the fruits of the honeysuckle (featured in a previous blog). Though the berries aren’t poisonous except in large quantities, I, for one, would not recommend eating them.
This one you definitely don’t want to eat. The berries of Lords-And-Ladies are HIGHLY poisonous
At this season the black bryony festoons our hedgerows . . . with exceedingly poisonous berries. I particularly like how berries from green through to red all appear on the same runner.
It’s the same plant. Right? Wrong. This is white bryony. But it’s equally as poisonous. (Note the difference in leaves: black bryony leaves are heart-shaped)
The blackthorn’s ‘sloes’ (as used in sloe-gin) are here bracketed by the scarlet festoons of black bryony and the haw-heavy branches of hawthorn. Just into shot are some ivy flowers, so that means more berries, but not till much nearer Christmas
Keeping with the red, this, the guelder rose, has become popular with local farmers of late. It seems to edge their every field. (ok, I exaggerate!) But beware, for bark, leaves and berries, all are poisonous.
This one isn’t poisonous. These brilliantly orange berries can be used to make marmalade. It’s sea buckthorn, and as its name implies, it’s only found close by the sea
Moving from red to purplish-black . . . blackberries. And as with the hawthorn and rowan, the hedges are heavily laden this year.
Purple . . . the wild plum, aka bullace
Another black berry (bitter, don’t go near), this of the red-stemmed dogwood. Compare with the next photo taken earlier this summer.
And another month or so these leaves will turn crimson and blaze our roadsides
And what would a hedgerow be without the humble crab apple? These are crying out of a nasty belly-ache!
While many of the hedgerow berries are edible, SOME are not. So, if in doubt, keep it out of the mouth.
crispina kemp 
Did strip off some blackberries in France. 🙂
Can’t say I’ve ever heard of the sea buckthorn.
And over here, it’s apple-picking season, which goes on well into October, depending on the variety and latitude and altitude.
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I guess they’re apple-picking here, too (for cider-making!). But some of these photos were taken earlier in the summer . . . but not the apple photo
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American hard cider (which is what we call the alcoholic product, as opposed to “cider,” which in the U.S. means unfiltered apple juice) practically died out, but began a revival a few decades ago. They often cite English ciders as models, though if you ask me they certainly aren’t the same, if only because they are using different varieties.
While we were in France, we drank a fair amount of Breton cider. Breton cider is also one of the two ingredients of Breton kir, which I recommend as a tasty drink. And we’ve sampled calvados, Norman apple brandy.
Meanwhile, E.J. is happy that I brought half a peck of Macoun apples back from a trip up north to see my mother. 🙂
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Now to me, cider that’s not alcoholic isn’t cider; it’s apple-juice. The real hard stuff (for hard, read ‘rough’) is traditionally known as ‘scrumpy’ and was a home-brew. I remember my brother sampling some when, as young teenagers, our parents took us to Somerset (the traditional home of English cider . . . though I believe its origins have been traced to Brittany. No comment.
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Love these berries ! Gorgeous!
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Many of these berries were snapped the Monday before my holiday. Then the hedgerows were so full. Another week the birds would have had them all . . . as I have found this past week while walking.
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