The flavor of the hedgerow

Rose Hip jam

Wild roses, the scrambling, shrubby flowers, are rich in myth & folklore, music to my ears. I might have overlooked them had it not been for my children's Montanan grandmother, who taught me to identify the five-petaled flower growing in thorny shrubs around the prairies near riverbeds. After the snow melted in the spring, we'd collect tiny pink buds and string with thread to make "necklaces" for my little daughter and aromatic ornaments around the house. Those sweet memories are folded deeply into my heart.

Montana is thousands of miles from where I now live in Burgundy, France, but it doesn't feel that far away, especially when I'm near nature, living according to my philosophy.