Oh the joys of summer fruit. Raspberries remind me of the imminent birth of my lovely daughter, who arrived in the midst of the fragrant season of jam-making. When we arrived home from the hospital, the house was still fragrant with the smell of boiling raspberry jam.
I nursed her beneath the shade and scent of a large wisteria and then we laid her to sleep on her quilt on the grass in the garden. That blanket was a blue and red design, made by a friend.
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