As I passed you new seasons fruit we had grown here in our young orchards. An apple, a pear, stone fruit.

Maybe a new variety of vegetable I had talked to you about trialling.

You cup it in your hand ever so, feel the weight of it, run your thumb carefully over it and assess it. Thoughtful.

I would ask, What do you think?

And our conversations began with that piece of fruit or vegetable and led to climate conditions, rainfall. Last years crops. Something you had grown in seasons passed. Fruit trees I had planted after the stories you told of them.

And I realise this among other things is what I will miss the most.

A  friendship based on mutual respect, our love of growing food and tending the land, the hills and mountains that we call home, stories of people who have walked before us and of course the importance of family.

An old school country gentleman. You will always be missed by all of us….

Jude x