gooseberries

 

A scant half pound of gooseberries were picked from the bushes which are tucked into our boundary hedge. A little too much for a fool (as in gooseberry fool, eye roll) but not enough for jam. So to the cookbooks for a pleasant half hour or so until a recipe for gooseberry curd catches my eye. And now, with two little glass jars full of luscious gooseberry goodness cooling in the kitchen, I'm thinking of scones and cream or perhaps vanilla sponge filled with curd and raspberries...

spring-ing

There are signs of Spring for sure. Today has been the warmest yet. Blue skies and none of the damp grey drizzle that had seemed to settle so firmly over the hills. Hellebores, crocuses and the dwarf tulips are out and the daffodils aren't too far behind. The wild garlic is doing well and we're already looking forward to making pesto with it. However March being March means that the fires are still lit everyday and the wood pile must be tended to as there's still that chance of frost and winter weather. Today though we are in Spring, and glad of it.

summer scenes

Summer days, drifting past like dandelion seeds on the wind... all those laundry flapping, comic reading, garden growing, rhubarb crumbling, lake swimming, jam making days...

icy grip

It's been an icy cold week here. Slate grey skies have brought hailstones and rain and, consequently, cake. And flapjacks. It's also meant roaring fires and books. But now, on the last day of April, we are ready for warmer weather, the chance to breakfast outdoors, to plant the vegetable patch without the worry of frost, to shed the woolly jumpers and feel sun on our skin. Beautiful May we're waiting for you!

growing

Scenes from late afternoon on Sunday. Today, of course, it's pouring and cold but yesterday in the sun and the whipping wind Kevin, Hugo and Will finished off the raised vegetable beds. They are immaculate - stone free and topped up with compost and well rotted manure and are ready for planting. We are looking forward to garlic, courgettes, beans, peas, rhubarb, beetroot, salad leaves and anything else we can cram in there...

spring

Sometimes, when the rain and wind have been at their worst it's been really hard to imagine Spring. But today the sun is (finally) shining, the floors have been mopped and outside in the garden the crocuses, irises, hellebores and snowdrops are all out. The wind has dislodged all sorts of branches from the trees, including lumps of moss and there at the top right hand corner of the photo you'll also see hazelnuts from the corkscrew hazel in our garden. And shining in the Spring light, a box of Hadji Bey Turkish Delight, surely a taste of warm days if ever there was.

Christmas wreath

This year's wreath is ivy and rosehips from the hedgerows, euphorbia from the garden, a string of cranberries and some gold sprayed ears of wheat. It is one of my Christmas traditions I look forward to most. There's a quietness to the selecting and picking of the plants I need and the careful work of creating the wreath. It hangs on our rain soaked front door and its glossy green, cheery red and rich gold announce this festive season...it's Christmas time...

change

We are on the cusp of change. It is gradual and inevitable and the birds are the first to tell us. I always associate the beginning of autumn with the crows. Their rasping cawing wakes us - they are extremely vocal - and they sit in the swaying treetops as the wind picks up, flapping away in indignation when it all gets a bit too much. We used to live in a tiny gate~lodge encircled by beech trees in which the rooks nested in their messy high nests. The noisy comings and goings of so many birds provided the soundtrack to those years of our early married life and the birth of our eldest son and so they have an especially fond place in my heart. I think they are calling in the cooler, darker nights, reminding us of smoky wood scented air and falling leaves.

 

Of course the garden is changing as August draws to an end. Most of the colour is gradually fading although the white Japanese anemones and the cornflower blue agapanthus are providing some interest. We are hoping for a kind, dry September. There are still many outdoor jobs to do before we finally retreat indoors. Indeed it is becoming almost too cool to sit out in the evening time, but if we do we sometimes get rewarded with fiery sunsets and rainbows.

growth

Despite a shockingly bad attempt at 'summer' the garden is doing its best and bursting forth. The scarlet poppies are on the cusp of exploding, they are such a treat although they don't cope with rain or wind so you have to really, really appreciate them during their brief moment of glory. There's all sorts of things self seeding in the gravel paths and there's barely elbow room in the borders. Everything is fecund ~ there's all sorts of mysterious rustlings and chirpings coming from the undergrowth. The starlings have nested and fledged and so have the sparrows at the back door. Now we are just waiting for a bit of heat, some sunshine to ripen the gooseberries and elder-flowers but, looking back, I see we are nowhere near where we were about this time last year.

lovely

 

Happy May Day! Even though it's now well into Spring and the garden really is bursting out and growing madly we've had some seriously un-Springlike weather...thunder which shook the window panes, hail from the blackest of skies, icy wind and rain and oh, you get the picture. We are battling on though. Most mornings see us having our toast and coffee outside (me usually shivering in coat and scarf and him saying isn't this lovely). But yes, it's getting more lovely and to prove it I picked a quick garden posy (white daffodils, euphorbia, purple tulips, willow, forget-me-knots and hellebore) for a friend who thought that was very lovely. So here's to a very lovely month of May!

Christmas wreath

Yesterday the sun came out so the dogs and I took a walk around the lanes to forage a bit of ivy for the Christmas wreath. Funny how the dogs are willing accomplices and the children are not. They enjoyed their amble, sticking their noses deep into the hedgerows and I enjoyed the sun on my face and watching the crows flinging themselves around the blustery sky. Back home I snipped the last few hydrangea heads and some greenery from the garden and then spent a blissful few minutes out by the back door weaving the ivy and the flower heads together to create our wreath. This is one of my favourite Christmassy things to do...I love the faded dusty pink of the flowers, the shiny lusty green of the ivy and the euphorbia and that touch of silvery grey from the stachys. Yes, the Christmas wreath reminds us there's no beginning, no ending, life growing and fading, we would do well to remember that.

planning

image from pinterest

Oh, it's good to have plans. We walked around the garden the other day talking and day-dreaming when we had one of those rare moments of clarity and a plan was hatched. A plan to plant a small potager garden, within the garden. A plan to build raised beds. A plan to grow vegetables. A plan to eat what we grow. And yes, it's good to have plans that are positive and life affirming and involve work and toil and ourselves. For so long I've wanted to grow some (at least) of our own food and for so long I've said the garden was too small, what with three boys and all. But think of all they'll learn too, if we grow our own. Think of the good food in their tummies. Oh yes, we have a plan and it's a good one.

in the pink

A little bit of pink, just a blush here and there out in the October garden. The wind is loosening the leaves and already so many of the sycamore have fallen. There is still a little colour though, enough to bring a smile- the dahlias, hydrangeas and sedum and of course that little bit of evening light on the barn. 

early autumn garden

The garden in the early morning. Autumnal colours and clouded skies. A slight, though welcome, breeze is eddying fallen leaves and flapping the silk scarf drying on the gate. We are preparing for school- slowing down those last few precious days of holidays, running around less and having early nights. The brightness of summer is being replaced by something altogether more subtle, a drift of wood scented air, the stain of blackberries on fingers, the slower rising of the sun and darkening evening skies. I think it's a good time of year to take stock and think about those colder months when we're more house-bound...I'm wondering about a new craft or skill...how about you?