Assuming there isn't a gale blowing rain sideways across my father's garden, we'll be out there tomorrow picking blackberries, and apples - my favorite late summer/early autumn dish. And then we'll be getting out the choppers, because the brambles, and ivy, and general overgrown undergrowth at the bottom of the garden have turned the little path between the end of the grass and the garden shed into something out of Grimms' fairy tales.
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