Over the last week, I’ve found myself making food for the future, rather than for the now. This is partly a product of the season: foraged blackberries and elderberries fill my kitchen and freezer, crying out to be turned into soft-set jams, sweet, fragrant liqueurs, and tart vinegars. But it’s also, I think, a nod to how I’ve been feeling recently. And its certainly a step forward from previous weeks: this feels like the stirrings of hope, of planning, of an anticipation of enjoyment, even if present enjoyment is still a little lacking.