Quince

This is the fruit that the owl and the pussycat dined on to accompany their mince in the famous children's poem by Edward Lear! I'm not a mince fan so I'll make some quince jelly with the fabulous crop on the sole little bush I have in the garden. It is wedged in a north-easterly corner between the garage and the front steps.

I've no idea why it thrives in this largely sunless spot. The fruit looks half-way between an apple and a pear, but they are not good to eat off the bush because they are hard. I blipped its profuse blossom on 9th June. Certainly it has come up trumps this year.