Wild Fruit
There was a time when I could make my way to a fairly secluded hollow not so far from the road and pick a quantity of wild raspberries which, if they are smaller than the garden sort, often have a delicious flavour. Where the tracks of one rambler show, another is sure to follow, and in a season or two the canes were trampled down and the place became as noted as blackberry hill. It turned into a race between the first pickers and the birds. There was not enough for all. Perhaps the thing will adjust itself. People will stop going and the canes growing in that jungle of weed will recover once more. The same thing happened with the bullace trees I knew. After the first few seasons I visited them the trees became Icss heavily laden, for the comings and goings of the most innocent person never pass un- observed. The bullace trees suffered too, and carry less than a quarter of the fruit that once loaded their branches down to the grass.
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