In Amsterdam I ate oranges, always. When we wanted aubergines, we bought them from the supermarket wrapped in plastic. All year round all kinds of fruits and vegetables were available: the price would fluctuate, as would the country they were coming from, but we just bought what we felt like eating.

When we arrived in Greece we ate oranges. But then cherry season started: every week two kilograms of fat black cherries from the market (and the small yellow-and-pink variety from the garden, although those had worms). The loquats in the garden ripened, then what we didn’t eat rotted on the tree. The strawberry harvest came in, with labour exploitation in the news and mountains of fruit in roadside stalls. Now we’re eating nectarines, and the season for grapes and figs is starting. In the garden the pomegranates have reached full size, but haven’t started to blush yet.

We’ve found a house in Thessaloniki, for the next year or two at least. It doesn’t have a garden, but we plan to plant some jasmine on the balconies and something for shade on the roof terrace: if a grape vine can thrive from a barrel, we might even have our own seasonal harvest this time next year. And if not, the market is just around the corner, and every month something new comes into season.