Groiseilles or red currants and my story

I was sitting with her next to a barn, hidden behind one of the red currant bushes. It was the second bush out of ten that we picked the berries from for juice which she would later press and pour in jars to sterilise. For someone who was just six years old, it might have been a torture to pick berries with my grandmother while other kids played with friends, but I was so happy to be there. I believe that is one of the fondest memories I have from spending time with my grandmother (I have quite a few), since I remember it as a jolly one, talking, laughing, and eating (read — I was eating) enormous amounts of red currants.