Wild rosebushes sprawl unexpectedly over the harsh Corsican mountainsides. They flower in early summer and so now, in August, they are covered with hips, one of my favourite botanical phenomena.
It’s not often that English utterly trumps French for poetic expression. In English, we have rosehips;
en français, on a les cynorhodons, a far less attractive term, I think, entirely arbitrarily; or course. Were I staying here longer, I’d insist on picking basketfuls to make jam and dry for tea. I’d also experiment with rosehip liqueurs, both to stay on the right side of wholesome and because, although I’ve never encountered them, I’ve long been convinced that they would be spectacular.
On flora, I post this photo not just because the onion flower is so impressive but because the backdrop – bright blue cloudless sky and dry stony terrain – encapsulates conditions here nicely. I have no plans for onion flower teas or liqueurs.
It’s not often that English utterly trumps French for poetic expression. In English, we have rosehips; en français, on a les cynorhodons, a far less attractive term, I think, entirely arbitrarily; or course. Were I staying here longer, I’d insist on picking basketfuls to make jam and dry for tea. I’d also experiment with rosehip liqueurs, both to stay on the right side of wholesome and because, although I’ve never encountered them, I’ve long been convinced that they would be spectacular.
On flora, I post this photo not just because the onion flower is so impressive but because the backdrop – bright blue cloudless sky and dry stony terrain – encapsulates conditions here nicely. I have no plans for onion flower teas or liqueurs.
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