Gorse Wood

In all my younger years we had our holidays in Cornwall, where my mum's family comes from. In late June/early July I remember vividly having to pick gorse flowers for my grandma, who made wine from all manner of things. Despite the memories of bleeding fingertips from the gorse prickles, every time I see the bright, yellow gorse flowers it brings back happy memories of a sun-kissed time of life.