We walk across the North Ground, a rugby field in the university precinct of Dunedin. Students scurry to their classes, a few are probably late. Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day; some must be nursing hangovers from one too many green beers.
In an hour or two, we will check out of our motel and drive south towards the Catlins, taking the Southern Scenic Route to Curio Bay. But we will have breakfast first. Driving is hungry business.
We enter the quaint café on the corner of St David and Cumberland St. Inside it’s all white and the late summer morning light bleaches it further.
Flat white and a long black. French toast with banana, bacon, pecan and maple syrup. Organic herb and potato cake with free range eggs. It’s that kind of breakfast.
While we wait at our table, I notice the windowsill dressed with a row of homemade jams and chutneys. Jars and bottles of relishes and salsas. Confit and fruit curd.
Orange, lemon and whiskey marmalade. Organic tomato, apple and mustard chutney. These are fodder, surely, for those who dream of fruit preserves.
The good earth gives and it gives. What we reap, what we say our thanks for. One season offers up its bounty, and in another season we shall spread and savour.