Blackberries bulge claret, weight the boughs down to outstretched clasp – where they tumble in twos and threes. Membranes bursting ink and Rosé, sweet and sour. On our tongues the crunch of seed and blast of juice, coax parched lips to ecstasy. Before winter sets in and the berries shrink brittle, scent and juice captured … Continue reading Connemara Berry Picking by Mari Maxwell