Sunday 16th May

Day 27

It was the journey of the soup and not the flavour of it that mattered today. Although it was the star of the table.

350 grams is a lot of nettles. Especially as each little leaf is as light as a tickle. So you need at least 2 weighing bowls full. But if there are enough of you, and you have wellingtons and yellow latex gloves and a mission in your belly, it can be an adventure.

There were 7 of us this morning - my intrepid family - a procession in cagoules the colour of the sea and the sky. We climbed up through a haze of bluebells, past pheasant runs, down grassy banks of primroses and deep into the wild green wood. Where we found a waving lake of nettles, peaceful under the beech trees. And there we foraged for our lunch, like bees, choosing the best tender tips.

We carried our clear plastic bags back through the fields and kept to the hedge line while 5 dun coloured bulls puffed up in a ruckus and their cows yowled out - a sound to tear your heart. A sound lodged in my mind now - along with with the nettles.

In the kitchen we tipped them into the pot on the stove with the stock and potatoes, black pepper and yogurt. And blended them into a pale grassy green soup with only the hint of their recent wildness. More of a soup to soothe - a subtle balm for the soul - a collective soup - my family's soup. And no one round the table mentioned the stings on our fingers.