It’s not a good idea to eat rose-hips straight from the bush! I have discovered what most people probably already know – attached to the seeds are fine hairs that can lodge in the lips, mouth, throat…. very irritating. To make a syrup or cordial you must strain the liquid through layers of cheesecloth and to make a fruit paste, puree or jam you need to remove the seeds first.
Although this poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins has found a rightful place in many an anthology and is therefore well-known, and the last thing I want to do is put together another Poetry Corner of favourite poems, I just had to post it here anyway, so that I could read it once again…. and again, and again.
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs –
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Gerard Manley Hopkins, ‘God’s Grandeur’, 1877