So there are ripe French dessert apples everywhere on the trees throughout the farm in the Vienne where I am for a week, as well as a venerable English Bramley tree. (These are cooking apples, which soften to a delicious fluff, and are perfect for sauces and for cakes.) I have been beating the wasps to the windfalls for my cakes.
My absolute thrill is picking a peach off the tree each morning to have with my breakfast yoghurt. (I’ve also made a cake from the peaches.) Then there are the endless tomato vines, heavy with ripening fruits. Each day we pick a mini mountain of them and yet they keep on coming. Soft, yielding and perfectly ripe, they taste entirely different from the crisp sweet tomatoes I buy in England. These are small balls of sunshine.
And then there are the haricots verts, which again produce enough for twelve people to have with supper each day. If I wasn’t off to Sweden imminently I would be filling my suitcase with fruit and vegetables for the return trip.