At 6am on Sunday, my birthday (many thanks for your sweet wishes!), I finally got up, and I hadn't slept a wink. Each year that goes by, jetlag seems to hit me harder and harder, and that morning, maybe because I was a whole year older, I was lagging badly. I went out in the garden, and gave my body the sunshine and physical activity therapy it needed, but I was still feeling pretty draggy. So I sat down, glanced around at the wild jungle my garden has become in my absence, and noticed some plump, ripe blackberries growing in a corner. The synchronicity of seemingly unrelated events in life can be a wonder: the jetlag that got me out early on my birthday, the ripe berries I picked before the birds got to them . . . just so we could all celebrate with a meringue cake topped with foraged blackberries.