article by Linda from Kirkmuirhill

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MEMORIES

Cold winter nights Dads coat on bed
Summer days bursting tar bubbles on the road
Rags in my hair for ringlets
Sliding on iced over puddles
Sweet smelling logs burning
Picking blackcurrants
Dad making jam
Peas ripe in their pods
Rhubarb sticks dipped in sugar
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You touched on one of my favourite memories.   For me it was not just the tar blisters, but the smell as well.  

It takes me back to my berry picking days - not yesterday you understand.

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