And again, the months seemed to have rolled by in a blink. I can't believe that it is June since I last updated this blog. (Note to self: must do better!)
Now the end of August and the cold and blustery bank holiday weekend smells of Autumn. `Not yet!' I want to call out as I pin my hopes on a September Indian Summer.
It's been a weird ole' year. Not only because of the global pandemic (although that tops the list), but also because the weather has been so topsy-turvy. An early, warm April Spring has thrown out the natural growing seasons and I found myself harvesting sloes for sloe gin last weekend - an activity usually reserved for October and November. As an aside, for those of you who fancy having a go at making sloe gin, it is the easiest thing in the world. All you need is a large kilner jar, a litre of gin (Aldi gin is good and cheap), roughly three cups of sloes and a cup of brown sugar. Wash the sloes (some people prick them, I like to roll them a bit to soften them), pop them in the jar. Add sugar and gin. Gently shake the jar every week or so until the sugar is dissolved and just leave to infuse for the next six months or so. I am sure there are more refined recipes out there, but this recipe works well for me and has provided many a comforting tipple on a cold winter night (or spring night, or summer evening....). Last year, I had a go at making crab apple gin too. I have a wonderful little crab apple tree that is a joy for its blossom and cherry sized deep red fruit. Following the same recipe as the sloe gin, the crab apple gin, enjoyed during the early days of lockdown, proved delicious, although maybe not as appley as hoped. Which means that I am forced to experiment a little more... ah well, someone's got to do it.
But I digress. The strange roll of seasons has had serious agricultural implications. Wheat farmers report the worst crop in many years and the cost of flour is set to climb. Crops which have formed the mainstay of our food supply will have to be re-thought as climate change continues and we are going to have to find alternatives to products we have long thought of as staples. Either our crops are going to have to be adapted to shorter, hotter summers, capable of withstanding the odd deluge or our diets in 50 years time might look very different to what they are today.
Wheat aside, this year has seen my veggie patch flourish. After an initial battle with a strange pestilence which ate anything leafy and tender, I have managed to grow cucumbers quite successfully - my first ever! The tomatoes, after an initial struggle, are doing well and I have corn on the cob for the first time in three years. My little apple tree has, as always, been nothing short of miraculous in its production of apples and, because the wasps were out late, I was actually able to keep the fruit on the tree this year. My freezer is now full of stewed apple and I still have a healthy stock in the fridge. The butternut plants, grown randomly from a supermarket butternut, are triffiding away with great gusto. They have lots of flowers, but it remains to be seen whether they will manage any fruit. So the strange summer of 2020 has yielded, after all.
I have to say that this summer, maybe more than any summer before, I have loved living where I do. The footpaths and the fields, my garden, the growing that I have been so lucky to witness - these things have grounded me in a world gone mad. We are surrounded by small miracles all the time - the sprouting of seeds, the bumblebees that gather like beads on the lavender, the sparrows that squabble on the fence - small things that we don't always stop to notice. It is indeed a wonderful world.
Keep safe, all.
PS: I have written poetry since I was about 7 (much to the hilarity of my family, as I recall). My love of the Essex countryside has now spilled over into a collection of poetry:
www.amazon.co.uk/Fieldsong-Love-Poems-rural-Essex/
