Or is that a quince in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
Way back all those weeks ago in August (which feels like a blink of the eye this year), I had three quinces, two on Quince Major and one on Quince Minor. Quince Minor is only in its second year of quince production so it was not that disappointing that his quince disappeared by October. I blame squirrels, I usually blame squirrels. By November there was this only one but this one hung on and ripened and I can ask no more of it than that.
For a day or two it sat in a bowl on the kitchen table where it perfumed the whole ground floor of the house (it is a small house). Just when I thought the perfume had lessened I would go out for a day, come home and there was the scent again. It. Was. Marvellous. But then it was time for the quince to be used or wasted and wasted was not going to happen. So it was chopped up and stewed along with some apples and popped into the freezer to become a crumble at a later date. For that is the destiny of the singular quinces, the singular that do not have enough friends to become a jelly. They will be crumble and one day, one glorious day I shall present to you my dear readers and quest for a quince followers, a jar or more of quince jelly. That shall be a happy day.
Until then, more followed trees can be found here c/o Squirrelbasket.