When we go outside at the moment everything is white.
The ground is white with the snow everywhere, the sky is white with the cold, everything is white.
And in a bid to remind myself that this too shall pass I was looking at pictures of wild cranberries I gathered here before the snows came.
Technically, they are not cranberries. Cranberries grow in water, these are low growing bushes. But that is what they are known as locally and so that is what they are.
We were in the bush and Allan kept an eye out for any unwanted attention from wildlife while I gathered some of the little ruby berries.
Of course, being the prepared person I am, I had nothing to collect them in except a polystyrene cup. Hardly the best, but it worked.
And then when we got home I had to decide what to do with them.
The next morning it came to me, it was obvious in fact.
I made pancakes and a wild cranberry maple syrup to
drizzle pour over them.