Get a load of those redcurrant berries.
You wouldn’t think it, but beneath those shiny exteriors lurks a tale of survival against the odds.
Ah, summer in Ireland. Where you’re just as likely to be bathed in rain as in sunshine and where the organisers of outdoor events play a game of Russian roulette with the weather and hope that they are hit, if not with sunshine, then at least not with a fatal shot of precipitation.
As I made ready to head to the Midsummer Fair in Temple Bar on Sunday last, I peered out at grey skies and a persistent drizzle. It didn’t look good for folks wanting to picnic and be entertained while lounging on the faux-grass in Meeting House Square.
Still, I donned my rain gear and arrived to find a few other hardy souls enjoying the trad music on offer, some even be-seated on the I-can-believe-it’s-not-grass patch. More importantly, I was able to satisfy my morning’s need for caffeine at the coffee angel stand, my portable coffee of choice. The day was looking up.
I do, as a rule, love grand displays of fresh produce. I see mounds of colourful fruit and veggies and I immediately want to relocate the lot to my kitchen so that I can have my wicked culinary way with them.
But what if the edibles are for display only and not destined to sate anything other than visual appetites? That, I’m afraid, I view somewhat differently.