tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15334098663388486382024-03-13T22:23:44.034-07:00My Not So Country-ish LifeLife in a small town in Shropshire, with a fishpond, a high-maintenance terrier and dreams of self-sufficiencymandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-6659822776966178342022-04-19T05:41:00.001-07:002022-04-19T05:41:13.550-07:00I'm Baaa-ck!<p> The move is complete and after almost two months in the sedate surroundings of a Shropshire town, I am beginning to feel a little settled. Country life it is not - not even country-ish, so I've had to rename this blog in the interests of truth and transparency. I do, however, have a lovely large garden with established trees and areas of interest - so there is potential there.</p><p>And to be fair - the fields are not that far away...</p><p>My new house has a fishpond. `So what?' you may ask. This is what:</p><p>Since we moved in, the dog (high maintenance water-loving terrier that he is) has been fascinated by the fishpond. The pump, which causes a sort-of waterfall effect to run, is some sort of miracle in his little doggy eyes. Which is all good and well - if he would just confine himself to the waterspout. As if!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBrr9HmKsHxMwuLhsHHQCVPc338VL_i4qJl8-XLIIHVOTCSQuTpgrRzyjcGYIiK8UMBnVCkvL7QN_FUuSlg99-xAAHRdYzfKJbKz4_-4TvNfz7DB7YTOW53TOhFusbpiCeI6BFmgzuk4i1UkGZJHO73kCuasYyo1Cxg-fqn-9wzhrXMPFc46TgOqx/s3820/Skipper%20pond%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3820" data-original-width="3456" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBrr9HmKsHxMwuLhsHHQCVPc338VL_i4qJl8-XLIIHVOTCSQuTpgrRzyjcGYIiK8UMBnVCkvL7QN_FUuSlg99-xAAHRdYzfKJbKz4_-4TvNfz7DB7YTOW53TOhFusbpiCeI6BFmgzuk4i1UkGZJHO73kCuasYyo1Cxg-fqn-9wzhrXMPFc46TgOqx/w290-h320/Skipper%20pond%201.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><p>Cue the full-scale Pond Wars. Not content with the pump, the dog decided to chase the fish. Not content to stay on the bank, the dog decided to chase the fish IN the pond. In no time at all, my days became an endless round of fishing the dog out of the pond and washing him off (turns out just drying a dog doesn't get rid of the smell of pond). Thankfully the new house has a downstairs shower, but the dog-washing became so frequent that he actually responded to my roar of `GO!' by jumping in the shower and waiting to be washed down....before going back out and repeating the exercise.</p><p>My first offensive consisted of the deployment of pea-netting left over from last season. A morning spent with garden wire and pliers making dozens of little pegs, and the pond was (semi) covered over. Ha! I thought.</p><p>The dog watched me. And when I went inside, he jumped on the pea netting until he loosened it enough to sink it and walk into the pond....</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyLMULFpOvsPkQgB4scODm6YSjnZpS6d2GhrdX0njvEEeLtSpEkFITJtVCksnpvsJxCrlX5BlqXliTEJDbV9prftLgAUR16Ky2SMgXp6ckn0tfQ8bP608I_JG3wuSw336HMSfAr3sB_imugbE-TTfCQxcUeRvyUx8xS3dm_w-nqW_bfLwoqWjKG-9/s3282/Skipper%20pond%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2057" data-original-width="3282" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyLMULFpOvsPkQgB4scODm6YSjnZpS6d2GhrdX0njvEEeLtSpEkFITJtVCksnpvsJxCrlX5BlqXliTEJDbV9prftLgAUR16Ky2SMgXp6ckn0tfQ8bP608I_JG3wuSw336HMSfAr3sB_imugbE-TTfCQxcUeRvyUx8xS3dm_w-nqW_bfLwoqWjKG-9/w200-h126/Skipper%20pond%202.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>`GO!' (sound of the shower and much swearing, closely followed by a good deal of time spent on Amazon).</p><p>The second offensive was to fence the perimeter of the fence with an easy-fit wire fence. Slight issue in that the pond is irregular and the fencing roll wasn't quite enough. But it seemed a barrier was established. Ha!</p><p>The dog watched me - and then houdini-d his wiggly little terrier body down the side of a bush/ over a rock/ under a barrier - and was back in the pond. (which, by then, was beginning to look a little bruised around the edges, with the fish in full panic hiding...)</p><p>`AAAArgh! GO!' Back in the shower, lots of swearing, lots of head scratching and much complaining on facebook.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-fJQBtIuPC4PftmrAcn-BvDaVQ1DH62g9Pc5XOOJkl1b6BQcolb5o5b0msz0UVhVQX0KRUH5VjzxmpwVBSInTJ5ieZINKhHElEnolCC86RV3wT1aW4mLr1G3KiKB0pIW1pSVlyfefcE6xcA3n0NlyxIJCyNGFTNNTehv-1SSKX38YLewA180Vo7o/s4608/Skipper%20pond%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-fJQBtIuPC4PftmrAcn-BvDaVQ1DH62g9Pc5XOOJkl1b6BQcolb5o5b0msz0UVhVQX0KRUH5VjzxmpwVBSInTJ5ieZINKhHElEnolCC86RV3wT1aW4mLr1G3KiKB0pIW1pSVlyfefcE6xcA3n0NlyxIJCyNGFTNNTehv-1SSKX38YLewA180Vo7o/s320/Skipper%20pond%203.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>As is often the case, it was my gardening friend, Margaret to the rescue. She referred me to a site which makes custom-made pond covers - a bit like a cake cover , but on a larger scale. I didn't really fancy a completely covered pond (what's the point if you can't see it?) but Margaret's suggestion of a secret garden sparked the imagination.</p><p>So it was back to the internet to order bigger fencing and a gate.</p><p>And then a weekend with the middle daughter fitting fencing (and a gate) and....</p><p>I'll say this very quietly so the terrier can't hear - I think I have won.</p><p>It's an uneasy truce. The dog looks for gaps - constantly - and so there is still a degree of barricading to be done. He also sits at the gate and barks and barks (and barks and barks and barks...) until he is let in to play in the pump water. But it's a sort-of truce. And I won. Maybe.</p><p>The secret garden is a work in progress. I have bought some shrubs to grow against the fence and a honeysuckle to grow over the arch. But it will be a while before it is truly `secret'.</p><p>A happy result of the pond wars is that I have discovered a new fruit bearing bush. The honeyberry is a newly introduced (to the UK) plant, something like a blueberry, but related to the honeysuckle. They produce berries that are a strange elongated shape, but are apparently delicious. I have purchased two of these and they have pride of place in the secret garden. <a href="https://www.rhs.org.uk/fruit/honeyberry/grow-your-own">Honeyberry / RHS Gardening</a></p><p>So there we are. No longer country-ish, but still growing...</p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-64773192807367068292021-12-22T03:43:00.000-08:002021-12-22T03:43:56.796-08:00The Only Way is Up! (Baby)<p> December 22nd. </p><p>Despite the doom and gloom of the never-ending Fun-With-Covid, the morning has dawned clear - the first in ages that hasn't been weighed down by the miserable December grey. Yay! And it's December 22nd - which means that today will have minutely more daylight than yesterday. Yaaaaay!!!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijLuyEjyku_CQd-3K0tbjA_rRFuaw6PP2XxPmXczActr9Hqwp1dho298x4BTzBHCZ7s-H527MhLIYXixecwnR7IHLqXOaKIP1sOUlPaLuKgkoo8NDz-1zBRrwo1stLk_vzELsJg7YRgzzG3O8Pvl28U6cmBNNWwmzj-8DUQRy9OGr0TfFNRyYpxUZk=s3582" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3582" data-original-width="3285" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijLuyEjyku_CQd-3K0tbjA_rRFuaw6PP2XxPmXczActr9Hqwp1dho298x4BTzBHCZ7s-H527MhLIYXixecwnR7IHLqXOaKIP1sOUlPaLuKgkoo8NDz-1zBRrwo1stLk_vzELsJg7YRgzzG3O8Pvl28U6cmBNNWwmzj-8DUQRy9OGr0TfFNRyYpxUZk=w140-h153" width="140" /></a></div><br />Not only that, but it is a mere 3 days until Christmas, that most loathed of all compulsory-fun holidays - so I might make it after all! My youngest looked me up and down last night and accused me of `being the most festive of us all.' It's true (sort of). She and I made a wreath for the front door. It wasn't quite the scale or ambition of those of years gone by - but a wreath it is and quite pretty too. (Last year the bulk of the greenery came from a lovely big rosemary bush, but it has since died and so the greenery this year is a bit of this and that, scavenged from the hedges.)<p></p><p></p>We also made our annual gingerbread cookies. This is a tradition we started when we were living in Mozambique, because we couldn't find chocolates to hang on the tree. Turned out it was quite fun to bake and decorate gingerbread together, so we carried on with it when we got back to the UK. Our gingerbread no longer lands up on the tree - but we like to take some to our neighbours and it has turned into our own little family tradition - one that I hope my daughters will continue.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMUptYe1kAxtnGbwdUi0_Ge6-GSgRK2c_6jI_r1vcQ0dul8n6ybCTUUwd1iSFYG3oIbCHnvAhPe2F6UR5NGXxfNG7tE-jsdx0Sdb0l9Euyhh1TEe7kWkHDEBUZaj4oJNlPWODjc8iXBeGsFMgDHXDZEqKT6NceU2f1Uk2x9JlRluGs9JX50TSTWPcO=s3408" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3331" data-original-width="3408" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMUptYe1kAxtnGbwdUi0_Ge6-GSgRK2c_6jI_r1vcQ0dul8n6ybCTUUwd1iSFYG3oIbCHnvAhPe2F6UR5NGXxfNG7tE-jsdx0Sdb0l9Euyhh1TEe7kWkHDEBUZaj4oJNlPWODjc8iXBeGsFMgDHXDZEqKT6NceU2f1Uk2x9JlRluGs9JX50TSTWPcO=w155-h200" width="155" /></a></div>So on the face of it - yes, I suppose I am quite festive. BUT - and this is a proper capital BUT - I suspect that my motivation has little to do with festivity and more to do with distraction against the bleakness of the December weather. Which is probably why we all go so full-out at Christmas any-way. But I will let my youngest continue in the delusion that I am actually a closet Christmas fan...<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCDg-RPbLyK5iDDpQNmFRFnGxuMMjF7uUcUusIML8JQevBjfjjHHoy4sqje8FINMTjaBQ6ocSpnIubR8zPtQbL5TQPU5YwYxItfklwj_-6fE0t88YBpPBM54V-i5L3NZQcfa0VtY-Ibhk432xBmhABFmBMe4ybSIbu7wfpFM6nTqurPuMqaJuj8Kgv=s3715" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3715" data-original-width="3359" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCDg-RPbLyK5iDDpQNmFRFnGxuMMjF7uUcUusIML8JQevBjfjjHHoy4sqje8FINMTjaBQ6ocSpnIubR8zPtQbL5TQPU5YwYxItfklwj_-6fE0t88YBpPBM54V-i5L3NZQcfa0VtY-Ibhk432xBmhABFmBMe4ybSIbu7wfpFM6nTqurPuMqaJuj8Kgv=w181-h200" width="181" /></a></div>A day I do appreciate is the midwinter solstice. This marking of the middle of the dark days - the promise of better days to come. This is a day I can get behind! As a furthering of my festive persona, I made a vegetable wellington for dinner last night, which I served with roasted veg and mulled wine ( the latter which was drastically underappreciated by the family). A reluctant cook at the best of times, I have to admit to being rather pleased with my Veg Wellie! There are loads of recipes out there, but I wanted to use sweet potato, so I went for the one in the Guardian (<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/food/2021/dec/15/how-to-make-the-perfect-vegetarian-wellington-recipe">How to make the perfect vegetarian wellington – recipe | Food | The Guardian</a>) which actually uses butternut squash (small detail...) I think the best approach is to look at the basics of the Wellington and then adapt to fit what you have. The mushroom mix in the recipe was, I thought, a bit boring, so I added red wine and fig chutney. And next time (should I ever feel the ambition again), I will leave out the cranberries, since the consensus was that they were `a bit weird'.<p></p><p></p><p>And now, the only way is up! Up and up until Spring and Summer. Yay! This morning saw the first frost of what has been a soggy year and the dog and I were out early marvelling at the light and the wonder of it all. C'mon 2022!</p><p>Oh - and Merry Christmas, Everyone.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJOQJmJ8DSCTyO9ykIF8D0OxouozhGva7Ze_wAp_PqUt2uA2Jjq5lWAnuYBxfXVi6o10waXGD2cMV4SXwSsdUg08WoOm5kuBOokJLduuy3VjIozWairPQE6xNcqx1xqtg-jBFIBLfqdTJH93JqZ6n9UnInnOiPnuFHFlFj8_yo12s2YzAe87GjEm__=s3176" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3176" data-original-width="3078" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJOQJmJ8DSCTyO9ykIF8D0OxouozhGva7Ze_wAp_PqUt2uA2Jjq5lWAnuYBxfXVi6o10waXGD2cMV4SXwSsdUg08WoOm5kuBOokJLduuy3VjIozWairPQE6xNcqx1xqtg-jBFIBLfqdTJH93JqZ6n9UnInnOiPnuFHFlFj8_yo12s2YzAe87GjEm__=s320" width="310" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-85481952055083280662021-12-13T03:03:00.001-08:002021-12-13T03:10:11.670-08:00(Almost) Bleak Mid-winter<p> And so Autumn has slipped into Winter. Its not been the best of years: a rainy Summer became a rainy Autumn, is now a rainy Winter. The good news is that temperatures have been mostly mild and, until this last week, my greenhouse tomatoes were still offering up fruit. I think their days are now numbered and not even the mild weather can keep them going for much longer, but they have been a bit of salvation for what was rather a dismal year in terms of produce.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFruOzD-gqKhVCg1rBVgvyZ4cowdgC_tDUOUFPAHDBnjjLEXBNbeXjN6dnDC0_2y5pt94c869MdSc3mz5t6fMS7AyJcfv1jFqt5PmwUDSdATwkawRgIwNiYQ6fMzeXWau_q0rZZ25mKKsLyATwv_ApWK1ca89FsoViO1wEPwmehzml7E-G6fE-gexm=s2048" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFruOzD-gqKhVCg1rBVgvyZ4cowdgC_tDUOUFPAHDBnjjLEXBNbeXjN6dnDC0_2y5pt94c869MdSc3mz5t6fMS7AyJcfv1jFqt5PmwUDSdATwkawRgIwNiYQ6fMzeXWau_q0rZZ25mKKsLyATwv_ApWK1ca89FsoViO1wEPwmehzml7E-G6fE-gexm=s320" width="227" /></a></div>The lack of produce has meant a bit of a lack of kitchen activity - other than the fruits of my most magnificent crab apple. What a fantastic little tree! I know I have gone on about it before, but it really is the tree that keeps on giving: gorgeous blooms in the spring, lovely foliage and then hundreds of little red cherry-sized apples from September all the way through to now (the blackbirds are just finishing off the last). It really is a fantastic tree and every garden should have one!<p></p><p>This year my efforts at making crab apple jelly were particularly successful. I put it down to two factors: patience (never my strength) and the addition of home-made pectin. Although crab apples are quite high in pectin, the addition of the latter certainly helped. I made my own from the peelings and cores of apples (from my brilliant little apple tree), froze it and added it to my jelly. Voila! I'm not sure what recipe I used, but this video will give you general pointers: <a href="https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=home+made+pectin+recipe&&view=detail&mid=16B024FF820E952E17A216B024FF820E952E17A2&&FORM=VRDGAR&ru=%2Fvideos%2Fsearch%3Fq%3Dhome%2Bmade%2Bpectin%2Brecipe%26FORM%3DVDRESM">Making pectin for jam and jelly Its easy! - Bing video</a> (Note - he uses crab apples too - but the general principal is the same.)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiP7EpjFuXmJnlCNPefUa1DNYqOT0IyC5yt12ra1rdTSgsYFLqYzrWs27lefDAkj35eBodReoh184qf3Jafpjdcg8DZEY8Pgk8cf3CQT_faNe0kcL71ZX2aWS9sQRQVOASlCym9sT2o7LNuv1DrUwzcG8ktYPnVS8Z0Nd4vtoYFgncetk5abfsmtY07=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiP7EpjFuXmJnlCNPefUa1DNYqOT0IyC5yt12ra1rdTSgsYFLqYzrWs27lefDAkj35eBodReoh184qf3Jafpjdcg8DZEY8Pgk8cf3CQT_faNe0kcL71ZX2aWS9sQRQVOASlCym9sT2o7LNuv1DrUwzcG8ktYPnVS8Z0Nd4vtoYFgncetk5abfsmtY07=w150-h200" width="150" /></a></div>Not only have I made crab apple jelly, but I also have two lots of crab apple<br /> gin brewing away at the back of the kitchen cupboard. I tried crab apple gin for the first time last year and it turned out to be even nicer than sloe gin, so I'm making it again! The added bonus of using crab apples is that, after you have strained the gin off, you can cook them down for jelly and you get the most delicious gin-flavoured crab apple offering. Bargain!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1zpFxAnA6zacKkjPnbupbnox5vpbY_V92gftzxtbTWfFL1eg4Pwqwp6RFZ2u-s1hPcIBNa7AzX-o5DZMnxBwftX7GX5wt7b34Dt3DA066Xf_NNAmB0cC-WeYGELIf8MUULq2_fhiaU-lQMs4lywAMC31zOivLcB9AxRBHjgdgbwZowmUNz2srUjQx=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1zpFxAnA6zacKkjPnbupbnox5vpbY_V92gftzxtbTWfFL1eg4Pwqwp6RFZ2u-s1hPcIBNa7AzX-o5DZMnxBwftX7GX5wt7b34Dt3DA066Xf_NNAmB0cC-WeYGELIf8MUULq2_fhiaU-lQMs4lywAMC31zOivLcB9AxRBHjgdgbwZowmUNz2srUjQx=w200-h133" width="200" /></a><p></p><p>But that really is the sum-total of the produce endeavours - jelly and gin. </p><p>I actually have some kale growing in a tub in the greenhouse (there is a HUGE difference between the tender leaves of kale picked from your garden and that chewy chopped stuff found in the supermarket) and some token carrots in a tub in the corner of the garden. Otherwise, everything is a muted shade of mud - or very overgrown. The garden is pretty much out of bounds until February/March.</p><p>Which means that I might not get to work it again.</p><p>Yes, after much soul-searching, we have decided to move closer to our grown-up daughters. I can't say I'm not sad - I love this house, this garden, these fields - but life is a series of adventures and so we must look forward to the next one. For now, I can only hope that the person who takes over this lovely bit of land, will love it as much as I do...</p><p>And now I'm off to scavenge greenery and whatever rosehips I can find, to make a wreath - it is almost Christmas after all. More importantly - its very close to the Winter solstice - which means that the days will start getting longer. Yippee!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikBB_8m9wdKa3cSARFbJXaWTPkMOZwOCZaUCgncjvDrh34YXiWwiTqjpVKQYFR82LlLRQDpGjlxpfvZZ_yg56yHXUpnbL1TANIBHYSzvzSEJeztrrC7FRhzDxkKwVkAJtvLhu_gtoDdAhND0iiqQe9s5mlLHcahDoTaCeOIZ3IThym6PINGrCwNgpX=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikBB_8m9wdKa3cSARFbJXaWTPkMOZwOCZaUCgncjvDrh34YXiWwiTqjpVKQYFR82LlLRQDpGjlxpfvZZ_yg56yHXUpnbL1TANIBHYSzvzSEJeztrrC7FRhzDxkKwVkAJtvLhu_gtoDdAhND0iiqQe9s5mlLHcahDoTaCeOIZ3IThym6PINGrCwNgpX=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-35016524358526542262021-09-04T07:21:00.000-07:002021-09-04T07:21:35.979-07:00Finding Nature<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8m-AkYZsfg0/YTN-oUOwJLI/AAAAAAAABBM/VJhM12BaYa0lY-Qc2kopmOpff5o7hte3gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/poppy%2Bseed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1218" data-original-width="2048" height="190" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8m-AkYZsfg0/YTN-oUOwJLI/AAAAAAAABBM/VJhM12BaYa0lY-Qc2kopmOpff5o7hte3gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/poppy%2Bseed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p> I recently read an article in <i>The Countryman </i>that has irked me more than a little. Titled <i>Access to Nature for All</i> the article made some very relevant points about the benefits of open spaces on mental health and had some valid arguments about making national parks wheelchair friendly etc, but the overriding message was that certain groups are excluded from access to the countryside and Nature in general. Central to my irritation is the idea that Nature is something that is only found in rarefied, far flung places, whereas the truth is that we have a huge amount of `countryside' and nature available to us in the UK. Every city has significant green space. The country is criss-crossed with footpaths. Playing fields have edges of wildness. Country parks are commonplace, with parks such as the Lee Valley Park stretching across vast (mostly urban) areas. If I have missed something, I humbly acquiesce, but it seems to me that the only thing stopping anybody from accessing a bit of nature is a bit of local knowledge. </p><p>And before I get labelled privileged (I am - I know I'm extremely lucky to have a garden and be surrounded by fields) and out-of-touch, I'd like mention that I spent the first half of my life in South Africa - a vast country where almost all the land is privately owned. There is no such thing as the right to roam and national parks have paid entrance. I have found it an absolute wonder, since I first emigrated to the UK, that there is so much land accessible to the general public. Which is why the article irritated me....and led me to ponder that fact that schools are missing a very big trick: why doesn't every school spend time exploring the parks, footpaths and green spaces that are so prevalent in this country? Surely it should be written into the curriculum. If the school is near farmland, walk the footpaths across the farmland - look for mini-beasts, talk to the farmer about the crops. If the school is urban, walk to the local park - log the wildlife, talk about how we impact our environment. It seems simple and a little education of the greenery and nature around us would (hopefully) educate people about littering (anyone remember those awful scenes of beaches and parks piled high with rubbish after the first lockdown?) and the value of insects and birds. It would mitigate- and perhaps reverse- the relentless march of paved gardens and fake grass. On that topic, have a read of this: <a href="https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/the-strange-death-of-the-english-garden?fbclid=IwAR1ov00brIfkC_3CNQCeTXAf7eaQ2AjpTzM2YhXFs2eaGYBHU5_YEB9o4LY">The strange death of the English garden | The Spectator</a></p><p>And let every garden centre sponsor a plant for a little child....</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UUt96Ilgaw8/YTN-47Tmx1I/AAAAAAAABBU/ne-71S4eeAMGAQQ9iGWnDsGoDyuhr5QJACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/field%2Byarrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UUt96Ilgaw8/YTN-47Tmx1I/AAAAAAAABBU/ne-71S4eeAMGAQQ9iGWnDsGoDyuhr5QJACLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/field%2Byarrow.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>Talking of garden centres: I was astonished to see that yarrow, labelled under its posh Latin name achillia millefolium is being sold in the local garden centre at £10 a pot. Gobsmacked! It grows in abundance on just about every verge and self-seeds quite happily into most lawns. I have it in my veg<br /> patch where it arrived all by itself and it grows in great frothy patches alongside the tractor tracks in the local fields. What a canny garden centre! I suppose that, in the year that a garden featuring ragwort won a prize, even erstwhile weeds are having a look in. And all those paved backyards could do with a pot or two of yarrow...<p></p><p>My own garden never ceases to fill me with joy, despite the failed veg crops (will I EVER get a tomato this year!) and onslaught of the super ninja slugs. My latest slug battle revolves around my second attempt to grow cauliflower. Having successfully sprouted a bunch of very robust looking seedlings, I planted the strongest out - only to have them stripped overnight. I tried a different area of the garden. Same story. Then I read an article about growing cauliflower in pots - apparently very viable as they don't have deep roots. Ha-ha, thought I - this will sort out the slugs. So I planted several cauliflower seedling in separate pots in the greenhouse. I think you can probably see the conclusion coming: Slugs 3 - Me 0. On the bright side, I seem to have foiled the pigeons by planting some late beans in a rubble tub in the green house.</p><p>After reading yet another gardening piece, I have planted carrots in my second rubble tub. They came up fantastically at first, but have since started disappearing at an alarming rate and there now appear to be about five left. I have no idea what happened to them. On the up side, the cucumber is producing at a rate of knots and my Autumn raspberries are giving me a handful of raspberries a day.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SKH5_M2U0yo/YTN_FdcdL4I/AAAAAAAABBY/5C8EyBDjQfMyxMQmgKKG0yeQWx3BOZDDQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/caterpillars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SKH5_M2U0yo/YTN_FdcdL4I/AAAAAAAABBY/5C8EyBDjQfMyxMQmgKKG0yeQWx3BOZDDQCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/caterpillars.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>Then there are all the tiny animal wonders. When out tidying last week, my daughter and I were distracted by the antics of a group of little caterpillars on the willow tree. It was easy to give them personalities as some huddled together and others took off on their own. I think they were probably cabbage white caterpillars. Then we were distracted by the tiny toads that we spooked at we mowed - and again by the variety of bees on the lavender.<p></p><p>Not in the garden, but out walking, I was extremely excited to encounter a devil's coach horse beetle. This fiesty little creature looks a bit like an earwig and takes on the stance of a scorpion when it feels threatened. Apparently they are capable of a decent bite too. I've never seen one before, so found the <br />encounter very exciting (I told the dog - but he was unimpressed).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x1Nq0R_945Y/YTN_Vk3Cz9I/AAAAAAAABBk/38b2s7ZF16gzxZv7lSD7zPeluNjMV9jRgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/devils%2Bcoach%2Bhorse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1862" data-original-width="2048" height="182" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x1Nq0R_945Y/YTN_Vk3Cz9I/AAAAAAAABBk/38b2s7ZF16gzxZv7lSD7zPeluNjMV9jRgCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h182/devils%2Bcoach%2Bhorse.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p>I have seen a lot more beetles this year than in past years, probably as a result of the wide uptake of No Mow May and farmers allowing the tracks and edges of fields to grow wild. In fact, despite the non-event of Summer, I have seen an abundance of insects this year. Its wonderful! Have a look at this:<a href="https://www.positive.news/environment/rewilding-map-reveals-scale-of-english-project-to-restore-nature/?fbclid=IwAR0vL7BICpr8R_gijYuHUTKYJUR-ajeul8woGvty0R3BQAKRcHfWijy-cAQ#.YQEVQcI5hL8.facebook">‘Map of dreams’ reveals scope of English rewilding project - Positive News</a> </p><p>I am extremely lucky to live where I do. I am so privileged to have a garden, to be able to walk through fields. Wherever you are, I hope you have found your patch of green too. Its good for the soul.</p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-51304369676865461072021-08-06T07:54:00.004-07:002021-08-06T07:54:38.821-07:00Adventures in August<p>I began writing this entry when it was all quiet in the garden - a sleeping sunny afternoon. In the capricious way of the British weather, it is now once again `changeable'. In moments of lull, a gentle breeze stirs the leaves of the grapevine and butterflies abound on the buddleia, lavender and leek flowers. Two minutes later, clouds roll in like spilt ink - and rain scatters the scene. Sigh. Its been one of those summers - where you're never quite sure what is going to happen next.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NEA3s0veLBc/YQ1FYXvp5fI/AAAAAAAAA_8/jYWWnQ0-CVUzDRDkiellewglAFsFhT0UwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/quagmire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NEA3s0veLBc/YQ1FYXvp5fI/AAAAAAAAA_8/jYWWnQ0-CVUzDRDkiellewglAFsFhT0UwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/quagmire.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The deluges of the past month are the stuff of legends. Our house, despite occupying a relatively flat spot, seems safe from flooding thanks to the system of ditches along the edge of fields and parkland - unfortunately, not everyone has been so lucky and our new neighbours spent one downpour frantically brushing water out of their garage! Out in the fields, the grass and wildflowers have grown waist high and there are places where paths have become quagmires. While all the rain seems to have been fantastic for everything wild, it has been terrible for most things cultivated. After a bumper tomato crop last year, I have had to bin most of my veggie patch tomatoes as they have gone black and rotted. There are still some in pots that I hope to salvage, but its not looking good. <br /><p></p><p>And the wet has been so excellent for the slug population, that my beans have been reduced to a couple of skeletal stalks. Hats off to the plucky beans which seemed to have tried extra hard, producing blossom even without any leaves, but the resulting bean crop is miserable and thin. As for the cauliflower - those that I planted way back in the Spring and coddled under enviromesh - gone to ruin every one. Well, except for the one that I have left as a sacrifice to the butterflies who have laid eggs all over its leaves. I might say, wholeheartedly, that I have given up on cauliflower....but then I saw a packet of seeds. Romanesco Green....Any-way, so here we go again because I am nothing if not optimistic (or stupid).</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lhc82Ib3msE/YQ1F24MMV_I/AAAAAAAABAE/F-Ckj3V5mPcakPCs1LvjBBPfGdH_7aA8wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/onions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="249" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lhc82Ib3msE/YQ1F24MMV_I/AAAAAAAABAE/F-Ckj3V5mPcakPCs1LvjBBPfGdH_7aA8wCLcBGAsYHQ/w187-h249/onions.jpg" width="187" /></a></div>I did manage to harvest some onions. (Tarrara!) From a commercial point of view, I suspect the effort of actually planting and growing onions is a bit of a waste of time since they are cheap to buy, but I did enjoy having the onions tied on twine and hanging from a line in my greenhouse, for all the world looking like I know what I am doing! The onions were an attempt at out-of-season gardening for me and it was quite nice to have something to grow in the winter.<br /><p></p><p>The potatoes planted in old rubble tubs have been harvested as new potatoes - and I seem to have done quite well. No big potatoes, but I suspect that in my panic to ensure that some potatoes sprouted, I planted too many. I'm never sure when the right time is to harvest potatoes either, so they might well have done another week or two. </p><p>After foiling the pigeons by planting beetroot in a planter instead of the veggie patch, I am delighted to report that I have actually managed to harvest some beetroot. If you are looking for a lovely veggie addition to a BBQ, try wrapping some beetroot with feta in greaseproof paper. Wrap again in foil and cook on the coals for 20 minutes to half an hour. Very tasty.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ss_NxL3e-1k/YQ1GQRQXKVI/AAAAAAAABAM/rnB4zX-zuGwiDMQMFTz7OpjC7LssSw4IACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/frog%2Bbowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="210" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ss_NxL3e-1k/YQ1GQRQXKVI/AAAAAAAABAM/rnB4zX-zuGwiDMQMFTz7OpjC7LssSw4IACLcBGAsYHQ/w158-h210/frog%2Bbowl.jpg" width="158" /></a></div>E's medicinal garden, which she approached with such enthusiasm, has now morphed into a wildlife garden (because the weeding was proving impossible.)The marshmallow are out in bloom and so, one of these days, we will be able to experiment with the roots to make cough syrup and, erm, marshmallow. As part of creating a wildlife garden I found a good bowl in a charity shop to convert to a birdbath - and was delighted to see a little frog trying it out on only its second day!. We have a solitary bee house too, but I suspect it is a bit commercial because the bees don't seem interested ( yet, I hope). I am particularly pleased with my DIY hedgehog house. Mr W. and the child have created a hedgehog house before, in our last garden. But Mr W. does like a plan. I, on the other hand, like a half-formed idea and getting things done as fast as possible. I saw a tutorial about creating a hedgehog house out of a clay plant pot. Needless to say, I didn't have a clay plant pot of suitable size - but I did have quite a large plastic one of the sort with no holes. So I made some ventilation holes on the sides, cut out a U-shaped bit on one edge to accommodate a smaller plant pot with the bottom cut out (a tunnel), excavated a hollow which I filled with twigs and leaves and - Voila! - with the addition of some sticks for log-pile dressing: a budget hedgehog house! Of course, I realise that it is highly unlikely that a hedgehog will fancy it enough to move in - but I had a great deal of fun making it and maybe a toad will find it appealing.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KdshM2RXnDE/YQ1GzLv-DlI/AAAAAAAABAc/ZNzJhuHKNHsn8_3n3KSWMAJEplkPbaiAwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/hedghog%2Bhouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KdshM2RXnDE/YQ1GzLv-DlI/AAAAAAAABAc/ZNzJhuHKNHsn8_3n3KSWMAJEplkPbaiAwCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/hedghog%2Bhouse.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><p></p><p>On the wildlife front, a pair of blackbirds have managed to rear a family in the Virginia Creeper and the rumpled fledglings are hanging round the garden like untidy teenagers. One fluttered into the apple tree right by my head just the other day. It and I contemplated each other for a moment before I informed it, quite sternly, that it should stop pecking at my apples. Its bright little eye flickered at me and then it hopped a couple of branches away where it lurked under some leaves until I left. Hmmm - familiarity is not the friend of the fruit harvest. </p><p>The garden can be a bit Disney at times. I was sitting at my desk at the beginning of the week when a squirrel strolled past .the open door .</p><p> `Oi!' I yelled.</p><p>The squirrel paused, front paw poised. It looked at me, then casually continued its journey towards the house. I leapt up and headed it off at the pass, sending it scuttling down the driveway - all while the terrier snoozed within spitting distance. I had barely sat back down when a crow arrived in the apple tree and I had to be sent packing too! </p><p>I complain in jest, of course. I know how lucky I am to be able to complain and laugh about my garden. It is such a privilege to live here, to watch the jackdaws, the crows, the blackbirds and the wren (that, incidentally, makes a lot of noise for such a little bird), the swallows that suddenly swoop above me as I walk with the dog through a wheat field.. The wide-winged red kites that hang in the thermals, effortless. The butterflies that seem to have exploded into the garden in the last week. The dragonflies, the bees, hoverflies, moths. Even with the terrible weather and the pointless exercise of tomato growing. Even though the cauliflower have all failed. It is all wonderful.</p><p>Wonder full.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lj6EeJFPJUg/YQ1HFOpc-rI/AAAAAAAABAk/GfpSBZXq2WM5Sm6nVXir3M2aaM_LV5WbgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/butterfly%2Bbush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lj6EeJFPJUg/YQ1HFOpc-rI/AAAAAAAABAk/GfpSBZXq2WM5Sm6nVXir3M2aaM_LV5WbgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/butterfly%2Bbush.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-88924809980068705412021-07-09T05:16:00.001-07:002021-07-09T05:16:47.559-07:00A Time of Raucous Chaos<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vzeNu3Yjl1M/YOg7Cy6OKHI/AAAAAAAAA9w/q5MpZEcU2VQRrC7LdKCo29lrPhWOSXWiwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/raucous%2Bchaos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vzeNu3Yjl1M/YOg7Cy6OKHI/AAAAAAAAA9w/q5MpZEcU2VQRrC7LdKCo29lrPhWOSXWiwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/raucous%2Bchaos.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> It is. It really is - a time of raucous chaos. My garden has, quite simply, out-manoeuvred me on every front. It is a jungle. Which is not an entirely bad thing, especially given the current re-wilding trend. And I sort-of like it...<br /><p></p><p>It has been a different kind of year in most gardens, with garden legend Monty Don and the National Trust putting their weight behind No Mow May (and beyond). No Mow May is the idea of Plantlife, an environmental charity. The big idea is that, by not mowing the lawn as the growing season begins, a range of pollinating insects (which are in steady decline in the UK) get the chance to boost their numbers. In fact, a neatly mown lawn is often compared to a desert in environmental terms, with no places for insect populations to thrive. No Mow May has shown positive results since its inception in 2019 and this year, perhaps because Covid has forced us to rethink our environment, the no-mowing has spread in popularity. My personal garden-guru, Margaret has embraced no-mow as have many others (I see these lawns on my walks) - and I have too. Weirdly, I've never had so much fun with a mower.</p><p>It is now July and I have been playing games with my lawn since May. Unwilling to entirely give up on a mown lawn, I have compromised, initially mowing about half. This compromise has changed slightly as my most un-mown bits of garden now have paths mown through them and my most mown bits of lawn have unmown patches. It really is great fun - I'm working on a giant heart-shape in the back garden and there is a teardrop in the front. I think my new neighbours (who like a VERY neat lawn) think I'm some sort of reprobate, or have a weird visual complaint...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fZOXqyt7iio/YOg7TUXi2qI/AAAAAAAAA94/hoETJXvVVLQAUUq8sYBYywSghSYftS28ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/clover%2Bbee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1644" height="288" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fZOXqyt7iio/YOg7TUXi2qI/AAAAAAAAA94/hoETJXvVVLQAUUq8sYBYywSghSYftS28ACLcBGAsYHQ/w231-h288/clover%2Bbee.jpg" width="231" /></a></div><br />So the jungle starts on the lawn. My daughter's medicinal garden (I call it hers because it was her idea, but really she barely sets foot in it) has become a wildlife garden. Yes, I call it that because its overgrown. Every now and then I go in and weed around the plants that we have put in, but I almost always disturb a creature. The last time I pulled out a chunk of vegetation, a little frog jumped out! It is a hive of life, with insects all over and the rich soil full of earthworms. No wonder the frog has taken up residence.<p></p><p>In fact the garden as a whole, unkempt as it is, is bursting with life. After raising a brood in my shed, the blackbirds (maybe the same pair) have built a nest in the Virginia Creeper and, judging by the activity, are raising another clutch. I have seen a goldfinch in my garden for the first time and the dawn chorus is so loud that it wakes us up. Most exciting of all, my neighbour reported seeing a hedgehog on the edge of the hedge that borders our properties. How amazing is that! If not mowing and not weeding results in a hedgehog taking up residency, then a manicured garden is something I am only too happy to give up.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mMDzjfL3-MY/YOg8P7M0jvI/AAAAAAAAA-M/xJ3VVWt7OjM2qOC5hI-tHKhG-IvQEEZRACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/skip%2Bapples.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="288" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mMDzjfL3-MY/YOg8P7M0jvI/AAAAAAAAA-M/xJ3VVWt7OjM2qOC5hI-tHKhG-IvQEEZRACLcBGAsYHQ/w236-h288/skip%2Bapples.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>In the veg patch, I have harvested my first onions, currently laid out on a rack in the greenhouse as per RHS website instructions. I have eaten some beetroot and the ones left are growing well (I planted them in a planter this year following my defeat by the pigeons two years ago). The mangetout have outdone themselves in jungling over - growing with great gusto, making a show of lovely white blooms and delivering a huge supply of pods. The strawberries have also done particularly well this year. Although many have rotted in the humid wet conditions, I still pick a large bowl's worth every day. And the raspberries are just beginning. I even have blueberries this year. Technically, I always have blueberries, but the birds usually get to them before I do. This year, they don't seem so keen. Maybe because I have encouraged insects and so they have more to eat?<p></p><p>Much to the dog's delight, the apples are swelling on my little apple tree, transforming it into what the dog clearly thinks is a thing of miracles - a ball tree. Once again, our house is dotted with windfall apples in various states of chewed.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cbiIqCmN7ck/YOg8th1nK0I/AAAAAAAAA-U/e_DJIYOR2Rgneud9Q0s9rZZTX8lHjFdpwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/tomato%2Bupside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cbiIqCmN7ck/YOg8th1nK0I/AAAAAAAAA-U/e_DJIYOR2Rgneud9Q0s9rZZTX8lHjFdpwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/tomato%2Bupside.jpg" /></a></div>Cucumbers are doing well and I have a glut of tomato plants - many of which I think are too late to fruit- but hey-ho, the fun is in the growing. As an aside, </span><span style="text-align: left;">I am experimenting with growing upside-down tomatoes, planting cherry tomatoes in old containers and hanging them up. So far so good, but we will see what happens when (if) they bear fruit.</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;">As for the cauliflowers. Well, I think I can safely consign them to the disaster heap. After being warned to protect them at all cost from butterflies, I built them a tent of enviromesh, which quickly became a slug safe-zone. So I removed the enviromesh. Those that have actually formed a `flower' are very un-cauliflower-y and so I have begun to pull them out. (I need space for tomatoes!) It is an experiment I don't think I will repeat.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The door of my office is open as I write. I can see the daisies in my heart-patch and the abundant green of my overgrown garden. There are birds on the lawn and a bee is buzzing around the sweetpeas just outside. Someone is mowing in some place that is not my garden. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I feel enormously lucky. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-85984742309492946152021-06-16T02:36:00.000-07:002021-06-16T02:36:13.115-07:00Grow, grow, grow<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gULq2wcOjgU/YMnCvlLj1FI/AAAAAAAAA8c/kEgUUPM1yg4RB_Qev7SuflGgfwBFCTA_QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/summer%2Bmorning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gULq2wcOjgU/YMnCvlLj1FI/AAAAAAAAA8c/kEgUUPM1yg4RB_Qev7SuflGgfwBFCTA_QCLcBGAsYHQ/w192-h320/summer%2Bmorning.jpg" width="192" /></a></div> I cannot believe the change since last I wrote! With astronomical summer still a week away, Mother Nature has roared back to vibrant life and all of England's green and pleasant land is transformed into lush and verdant fruitfulness. Every year, I am newly amazed at how quickly the land transforms - one minute is seems all mud and cold and the next it is all heat and colour!<br /><p></p><p>Here in my garden, everything seems to have grown a foot overnight and what took weeks to sprout a mere month ago, is now doing all that germinating and growing in just days. In the last day or so, the mangetout have flowered and formed pods, the beans have finally taken and the beetroot are beginning to look promising. The mixed leaves have already gone to seed and I find myself in the awkward position of thinking about pulling them out (it is, after all, only June!). And that's just the edible stuff. All along the hedgerows, flowers are in bloom. Low down, the lovely delicate stitchwort have given way to buttercups and higher up, the dog roses dot the road-side with pink and white. Even the nettles are flowering and the grass is tall and heavy with pollen (pity the hay-fever sufferers!)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5fANvFnYMBk/YMnDE5T4l_I/AAAAAAAAA8k/78cls-E2R0kdld20i9rGRL23sTiz0jepgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/dogrose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="262" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5fANvFnYMBk/YMnDE5T4l_I/AAAAAAAAA8k/78cls-E2R0kdld20i9rGRL23sTiz0jepgCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h262/dogrose.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vh-V0NQdK7M/YMnEShFiP2I/AAAAAAAAA88/q08L_h1Kz-8YxKgh6OtLxaW0mMRVnllHACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/bee%2Bpoppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vh-V0NQdK7M/YMnEShFiP2I/AAAAAAAAA88/q08L_h1Kz-8YxKgh6OtLxaW0mMRVnllHACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/bee%2Bpoppy.jpg" /></a>In the garden, my astonishing poppies are even more astounding than last year. With blooms the size of saucers, their rich dark pollen is a magnet for bees. After the early warm snap followed by more cold in April/May, I feared for the bees. They seemed to have woken up too early and I wondered how many had died off. This seemed justified with very few bees out at the end of May, but they are back! And loving the floral banquet set out for them. They<br /> particularly seem to enjoy the poppies, rolling around in the purple pollen, making delighted buzzy sounds. (I am sure my neighbours think I'm slightly unhinged as I stand staring at poppies and giggling at the bees' antics...)</p><p>It is all a bit Disney out there with the proliferation of life. Not only are the bees out in force, but a clutch of blackbird chicks have just fledged in the garden shed. I love blackbirds and usually have a fairly good idea of which ones are about, so when I heard their alarm call in early May and saw a magpie close to their nest, I feared for them. Sadly, the magpie did, indeed plunder their nest (along with that of the pigeons nesting in a creeper) and I watched the brown female blackbird hopping around on the lawn with a definite sense of loss. Fortunately, nature is resilient and it wasn't that long after that I spotted her (and I'm convinced it was the same one) sitting on a nest tucked into the corner of my garden shed. The nest itself was a work of wonder - very round and crafted out of grass, apparently glued together with mud. When and how they built it is a mystery - but there she was!</p><p>It was all a bit inconvenient for a while as I had to vacate the shed for the bird. And then I though the nest had been abandoned because she seemed to leave it for long periods. So imagine my utter surprise to see four little heads sticking out of it! Astonishingly, the babies didn't seem to make any noise at all. I have had nest of blue tits and sparrows about before, and the chicks are very vocal, but I never once heard the blackbird babies make a sound - almost as if they knew they were hiding.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x5ZFHIX-qZM/YMnEmRL01OI/AAAAAAAAA9E/O01FGJtw5hAVdEuY5QBIoEzFaptFAbZGQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/blackbird%2Bbabies.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x5ZFHIX-qZM/YMnEmRL01OI/AAAAAAAAA9E/O01FGJtw5hAVdEuY5QBIoEzFaptFAbZGQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h225/blackbird%2Bbabies.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /> They grew quickly and last weekend I peeked in to find them gone. With no feathers or evidence of pillage, I have to assume that they fledged successfully - and my neighbour rescued a young bird from his greenhouse , which seems to support this idea. What an absolute joy and privilege to have seen these little birds grow.<p></p><p>And so, the sun is out and the world is great and good! I hope all is well wherever you are.</p><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-13304420498264779852021-04-27T04:08:00.000-07:002021-04-27T04:08:04.441-07:00Come on Spring!!!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4VqTx92j3D4/YIfunPZ4iSI/AAAAAAAAA3o/DLZ56sqs-bgzFLqc7Tgt7Sd35qzLwTalgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/blackthorn%2Bsky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4VqTx92j3D4/YIfunPZ4iSI/AAAAAAAAA3o/DLZ56sqs-bgzFLqc7Tgt7Sd35qzLwTalgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/blackthorn%2Bsky.jpg" /></a></div> I've been holding out for Spring since...well, a long time! And Spring seems slow in coming this year. Last year at this time, we were in the full throes of the first pandemic lockdown. The weather was glorious and the garden was in full bloom. This year - not so much. Here we are at the end of April and I have had to haul out a sheet of garden mesh to protect my newly planted seedlings against yet another late frost. It's sunny out, but the North wind is up, the nights are nippy and the blackthorn is still the dominant bloom. <br /><p></p><p>All quite frustrating given that I am raring to go, fired up by all those months of wistful, waiting lockdown. (And I suspect that there are many others like me as we emerge from lockdown number three). Admittedly, in my eagerness, I probably started the season too early. If the seed packet said `sow March to April' I sowed in early March. Which means that I now have lots of seedlings that need to get into the ground - hence the enviro-mesh and frustration. I have never been very good at patience.</p><p>On the experimental side, I have given up the quest to grow sweet potatoes and have re-purposed two rubble-tubs into potato planters instead. Lots of gardeners don't bother with potatoes as they are cheap to buy, but a potato straight out the garden is a very tasty thing indeed. I have tried to grow them on and off since I have had my veggie patch. The rubble-tubs in question are recycled laundry tubs whose handles broke. Fortunately, potato planters have no need of handles and so, with a couple of holes drilled in them - voila! So far, so good: the potatoes are sprouting and the tubs are holding up. All the literature promises loads of lovely potatoes in an easy-to-harvest format. Hmmm - I will keep you posted.</p><p>While the garden is taking its time to burst into life, the local fauna are having a field day. We appear to have a ratty resident under our decking once again. The dog told us it was there long before we saw it, but I know it to be a rat, because I opened the curtains one early morning, so see it sitting out in full view. To be fair, it is quite a good-looking rat and I do have a soft-spot for rodents, but we are not so naïve as to think that it can set up home. Getting it to move on has, however, become a dilemma. When we had a rat a couple of years ago, we set traps, but kept catching mice (we<i> are</i> in the countryside). Now we have a humane trap, but despite baiting it every night and finding the bait gone every morning, Ratty has eluded us and our only catch has been a traumatised blackbird. Many years ago, when we lived in Messina, South Africa, the standard way of discouraging unwanted visitors (from rats to scorpions) was to wash down the area with Jeyes Fluid. Presumably the potent smell is too much for them. So I have a tin of Jeyes fluid which will be the next experiment in getting the rat to move.</p><p>And the rat has not been the only visitor. The husband arrived home one afternoon to report that he had had to drive around a dove on the driveway. Further inspection found it to be a juvenile ring neck that seemed to have become too cold. It was unresponsive, but alive, so we took it inside and let it overnight in a box by the radiator. The next morning I let it out and was pleased to see a parent bird appear almost immediately. The youngster, with a lot on encouragement from its parent, flapped onto the hedge and away across the neighbours garden.</p><p>Then there was the juvenile blackbird that suddenly appeared at the sliding doors. Confused, it kept flapping into the glass. It had to be caught (a case of walking up to it and enclosing it in my hands) and turned around so that it could fly away, chirping loudly at the indignation.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MEe3JgZFsYM/YIfu5FwgS9I/AAAAAAAAA3w/OSgWygc5G98Gp3Nu9WAEqWV9ewIameZfgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1715/pipistrelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1715" data-original-width="1574" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MEe3JgZFsYM/YIfu5FwgS9I/AAAAAAAAA3w/OSgWygc5G98Gp3Nu9WAEqWV9ewIameZfgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/pipistrelle.jpg" /></a></div> And then there was the bat. I was raking the garden early last week when I heard a high-pitched screaming. There, quite disguised against the soil, was a little bat, shrieking away. I was convinced that I had raked it although there was no sign of injury. I put it in a box and called the Essex Bat Group who have been absolutely fantastic. The bat is a pipistrelle and after collecting it, bat rescuer, Steve found that it was covered in glue. Apparently the glue from fly papers sticks to these little bats and can ground them, making them easy prey to cats. Where I thought the bat had lost an ear, it turned out that his ear was glued down, as well as one eye being completely covered in glue. Happily, my little bat turned out to be quite determined to live and was eating almost as soon as the glue was removed. He was brought back by Steve and his partner at the end of the week and released, well-recovered - a magical micro-second of a tiny bat against the full moon. I only hope that he is successful at avoiding any other glue!<br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5kDuLOS1ch0/YIfv4W_J1pI/AAAAAAAAA34/C01G5RE4E34y7zsKDCf5XXaqC5K086sHwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/spiderlings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1228" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5kDuLOS1ch0/YIfv4W_J1pI/AAAAAAAAA34/C01G5RE4E34y7zsKDCf5XXaqC5K086sHwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/spiderlings.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>And finally, over the weekend morning, an amazing bloom of spiders happened in my green house. I was astonished to see a hammock of tiny little yellow spiderlings spun between an old container and a seedling where I hadn't noticed a web before. They appear to be garden spiders and mass hatchings are common at this time of year, but I have never seen one before. The little spiders seem to have spent much of their time sleeping, but blowing on the hammock results in much movement - like skittering gold dust. Now, a couple of days in, the hammock is emptying out - presumably as the little spiders go off to find their own areas of the garden to populate. They were hard to capture in a picture - they look like little grains of dirt on the left.<br /><p></p><p>So maybe Spring is here after all - and hopefully the warmth and great growing are just around the corner!</p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-79362015277838224682021-02-18T07:41:00.002-08:002021-02-18T07:42:18.417-08:00It's February and we're....frazzled!<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G8HeDMDoZNg/YC6G5uNyP5I/AAAAAAAAA04/JYGWbJRt2fMkgONov4Uz3C3PTkoPAKeBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/waterlogged%2Btrees.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1692" data-original-width="2048" height="264" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G8HeDMDoZNg/YC6G5uNyP5I/AAAAAAAAA04/JYGWbJRt2fMkgONov4Uz3C3PTkoPAKeBwCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h264/waterlogged%2Btrees.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We're heading into the last week of February and I have to admit to a degree of ,erm, grumpiness. Lockdown seems endless, winter seems endless and endless just seems endless. Bah Humbug!<p></p><p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UxUn1iTS-Cs/YC6HUBNZunI/AAAAAAAAA1A/fMl0Qfy8aZQ6gSf5_h7V94bbQjTEt9HOQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/fly%2Btipping%2Bcarpets.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UxUn1iTS-Cs/YC6HUBNZunI/AAAAAAAAA1A/fMl0Qfy8aZQ6gSf5_h7V94bbQjTEt9HOQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/fly%2Btipping%2Bcarpets.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a>So I will get the gripes over with first: Fly tipping and casual littering. Why? When the world is out of control, why not at least take ownership of that which you can control?</p>Travel the little lanes around my village and you<br />will find a ditch full of carpet off-cuts (they've been there since Christmas Day. I know, because I reported it), a pile of used tyres on the edge of a field and a mattress in a small lay-by. Not only that, but on one particular lane, there is a trail of Isla Negra Sauvignon Blanc bottles (there are so many that I could identify the brand!), accompanied by the occasional beer can. On another corner, McDonalds wrappers and cups vie for space with energy drink cans.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eMEDYkCxTT4/YC6JZ4TwFBI/AAAAAAAAA1w/_UkvtITOI_U5pMEh6U1Uv9uhHJBAc3W6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/fly%2Btipping%2Bcarpets.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1910" data-original-width="2048" height="186" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eMEDYkCxTT4/YC6JZ4TwFBI/AAAAAAAAA1w/_UkvtITOI_U5pMEh6U1Uv9uhHJBAc3W6QCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h186/fly%2Btipping%2Bcarpets.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p>Why? What makes someone so disrespectful of the countryside and the people who live there, that they would dump their waste in a ditch or on a corner? When someone throws out their Maccie Dee's wrapper, what on earth makes them think that it is better thrown on the side of the road than kept in their car until they find a bin? And as for the wine bottles....well, I can only think that there is a teenager somewhere who is tapping away at a parental supply, or someone has a very guilty drinking problem. The point is - don't dump it! It would take just as much effort to find a bin or take your bigger rubbish to a commercial dump. I would have taken on some tyres (for raised beds) if someone was happy to deliver them (they were happy to dump them....) AND if you're thinking that there's an excuse not to use the municipal tip because it is closed - most are not. AND if you need to get rid of a mattress, councils will remove bulky items for not very much cost.<p></p><p>Why leave your mess for someone else? I don't get it. Especially now that the countryside and open places have become so important and precious.</p><p>Rant over (for now...)</p><p>As lockdown drags on for what must certainly be the 99th month, I have reflected on how my priorities have changed. With holidays and travel out of the question, I have found that I think very carefully about where I spend my money.</p><p>Historically, I am very middle class in my shopping habits. Waitrose, when I had a local, saw a lot of my footfall and then I did the discrete move to Ocado. However, all of that changed in March 2020 when delivery slots suddenly became like hen's teeth. It was then that I discovered more local alternatives such as Ashlyns (http://www.ashlynsorganics.co.uk), a company that used to supply the hospitality industry, but were forced to move into home delivery to keep afloat. There are dozens of such companies across the country. And there are good reasons to use them : their prices tend to be reasonable and their produce tends to be locally sourced. I don't eat meat, but my husband does and it is important to me that I know where the meat he eats comes from. If you use a local company, they should be able to tell you (try tracing the source of meat in your Tesco shop - not so easy!) By buying from a local company I am also supporting local farmers.</p><p>And here I must also mention our fantastic local pub, The Fox. A family-run business, they have done everything to support our little community, including opening a shop to supply essentials, on top of regular takeaways. During the worst days of panic buying, they were, literally, a lifeline for many. Now that things are not quite so dire, they still provide a non-supermarket option (and give my pre-teen a chance to go off by herself to buy a muffin once a week - a very precious outing in a time of no outings!)</p><p>Of course, the panic buying and lack of delivery slots of early 2020 have now faded into the past. I never did go back to Ocado. By the time I found a slot, it cost £6.50 for a delivery and that just seemed outrageous. So I tried Iceland. Yes, really. A definite departure from my middle class habits. What I did find was that slots are regularly available and that their fresh produce (albeit a bit limited in variety) is of really good quality. Their frozen veg is fab and they also sell a good bottle of wine. What's not to like? They also deliver free for orders over £35. And their customer service, at least in my neck of the woods, has been great. </p><p>The other solid alternative is Tesco click and collect. You pay a small packing charge, but it is super convenient and it saves going into a store for those things that you cannot get anywhere else but a supermarket.</p><p> I now buy cleaning products in bulk. I prefer to use eco-friendly products and have found that this is cheaper (and less wasteful) when bought in bigger packs. I like Big Green Smile (https://www.biggreensmile.com) because they have a good range and their delivery is quite quick. Bigger packs mean less plastic, mean less waste. I regularly buy laundry liquid (Ecover), dishwashing soap (Ecover) and hand wash (Bio D) in 5l containers. They also stock a good range of eco-friendly and paraben free personal care products.</p><p>And then there's good 'ole Milk and More who have been consistently reliable over the last year. There is something very lovely about opening your door to find a pint of milk on your doorstep.</p><p>Going forward, I wonder how much my - and the collective `our' - habits will change. I would hope that we all try to support local (eat local, buy local). Our world has become small over the last year. While that isn't always a good thing, it has been useful to pause and think about what we have and how we can make it better. It is a more profound question than simply where we buy our cauliflower, but I would hope we consider carefully where we put our hard-earned cash and which companies we reward with our business.</p><p>Meanwhile, outside, the snowdrops are in bloom and the daffodils are poking through the water-logged grass. Hang in there, everyone, at least Spring is on the way!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SepBE4CBEFs/YC6IUlhC1wI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/C2d3w2jyqdMYgQL6gglLGpgS4HMDxsjGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/first%2Bsnowdrops%2B21.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1490" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SepBE4CBEFs/YC6IUlhC1wI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/C2d3w2jyqdMYgQL6gglLGpgS4HMDxsjGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/first%2Bsnowdrops%2B21.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-14797032636023277042020-12-31T07:41:00.000-08:002020-12-31T07:41:59.888-08:00So long, 2020...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D8XuUt35QWw/X-3vxlbtbzI/AAAAAAAAAzE/ixQdJ6E8OzQordnLk6zsWTInL_C1T8EEwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/matching%2Bchurch%2B31%2Bdec.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1290" data-original-width="2048" height="291" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D8XuUt35QWw/X-3vxlbtbzI/AAAAAAAAAzE/ixQdJ6E8OzQordnLk6zsWTInL_C1T8EEwCLcBGAsYHQ/w462-h291/matching%2Bchurch%2B31%2Bdec.jpg" width="462" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> So here we are - December 31st, 2020.<br /></p><p>What a year. No exclamation mark, just the statement. Because that is what is has been - a year of whats and what-ifs and unbelievable possibilities amongst the madness.</p><p>What a year.</p><p>The pandemic has been an unmistakable water-mark across 2020. Who could have, would have imagined when, way back in January, we heard about a new disease in China. Nobody dreamed a lockdown would ever happen - let alone lockdown two and three. Suddenly flour and cooking oil became impossible to find (and lets not even talk about toilet roll!) Everything we took for granted, from the casual hugging of friends, to the ability to nip into London on a train, disappeared overnight. For a while, we all froze. Afraid. And the first wave in the Spring of 2020 seemed to bring with it wave after wave of bad news.</p><p>But this is the curious thing - looking back at the last 12 months, it hasn't all been bad. And I say this with the greatest respect and sympathy to those who have lost loved ones and their livelihoods in the course of this year. I know I have been unbelievably lucky when so many others have suffered and are still suffering. And that's part of what has made this year good - a renewed sense of how fortunate I am. How lucky I am to live in a country where medical care is free. How lucky to live in a country where there are enough other lucky people to help those who need it. </p><p>This year, I have learnt to value my friendships. I'm not necessarily the best friend. Socialising isn't top of my favourite list, but this year I have learnt the value of checking in. The casual chat, whether over messenger or wattsapp or the more organised Zoom. All the small gestures that remind us that there are other people out there who care about us. </p><p>This year, I have learnt to value my garden and nature in a more profound way than I have before. This from someone who has always loved the outdoors. In the long ironic summer, we walked footpaths we hadn't walked before, discovering again how beautiful the world is. This year I have watched each new growth as its own little miracle. I have planned and planted and got to know the birds. I have never been more excited for the coming Spring!</p><p>This year, I have learnt again how wonderful and terrible human beings are. I'll leave out the terrible for now (unfortunately, just plain stupid falls into that category!)and let's think about the wonderful. The wonderful people who have stepped up to help friends and neighbours. In our village, the wonderful people of our pub, The Fox Inn, who got up when they kept being hammered down, to open a village shop, to deliver takeaways, to innovate and create, no matter how many times they were battered. The sense of community that came out of supporting the pub. My neighbour, who started the pandemic year alone, having lost his wife in 2019, who was isolated from a family that worked in the care sector for many long lonely months, who persevered. Who hung in there, chatting to neighbours across the hedge, so that, at the close of 2020 he has met someone new and life is again, looking good. And to the almost-miracle which means that we are ending the year with several vaccines at play across the world - an unprecedented medical feat. Proof of how tenacious we are as a species. How we are able to survive.</p><p>Which makes us all wonder what the new year will bring.</p><p>Have we learned the lessons we should have about our planet? I fear not. The huge amount of litter strewn around the country the moment we ended our first lockdown is testament to a wholescale attitude of `don't care.'</p><p>Have we learnt the lesson we should have about animal welfare? I fear not. My news feed reports that the biggest pig farm in the world is opening in China. And who knew how many mink were being farmed in Europe until the shock of hearing about how many million were destroyed?</p><p>Have we learnt to be less consumerist? I don't know. Sales of clothing are down, but the huge piles of packaging left out for recycling after Christmas point to a continued appetite for `stuff'. The television still advertises swathes of rubbish we don't need.</p><p>But I am hopeful.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vjxrVgbRNlM/X-3wvjAg5VI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/wSHX52GWWm04MswtXQbRhJ7IkKko-o9fACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Em%2BSkipp%2Bwinter%2Bwalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vjxrVgbRNlM/X-3wvjAg5VI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/wSHX52GWWm04MswtXQbRhJ7IkKko-o9fACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Em%2BSkipp%2Bwinter%2Bwalk.jpg" /></a></div>Conspiracy theorists go on about a `global reset'. I'm not an expert, but as far as I know, it boils down to the idea that the current economy of the world is being `reset' to make way for a new one. In the worst of the theories, this is a 1984 doomsday scenario, a Pol Pot version of reducing civilisation.. But I have to admit that I hope for some sort of `reset'. Not a radical wiping out of ideas and innovation, but a rethinking of where happiness and wealth come from.<p></p><p>Here, in my little corner of the edge of Essex, I'm really looking forward to the new year. The hope of new beginnings, new innovations. I look forward to seeing my cherry trees and June berries bud and bloom for the first time. I look forward to being able to visit my daughter in her new home. I look forward to all the many wonderful things that can happen.</p><p>Wishing you all a very happy start to 2021 - may the coming year be filled with wonder.</p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-84433354728881395712020-12-10T05:41:00.000-08:002020-12-10T05:41:14.801-08:00Countdown...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7fEws51LF40/X9Ii3f1fgXI/AAAAAAAAAxM/yV49Wb4Zd70gU3iomvS9hSIrqTFHFldCwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2877/Xmas%2BTree%2B20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2877" data-original-width="1093" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7fEws51LF40/X9Ii3f1fgXI/AAAAAAAAAxM/yV49Wb4Zd70gU3iomvS9hSIrqTFHFldCwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Xmas%2BTree%2B20.jpg" /></a></div>The Christmas Tree is now up in all it's dishevelled glory, as though some evil fairy has spewed glitter in the corner of the room. <p></p><p>A few years ago, my eldest daughter tried to colour-coordinate the tree, buying gorgeous blue and silver baubles and matching tinsel. Problem is, I am too tight (erm, sensibly frugal...) to throw out any bauble/tinsel/ bit of glittery stuff in favour of a colour scheme on what is, essentially, a decoration. So our tree is a mish-mash of shiny things bought and made through the years. (The oldest decorations were bought via mail-order catalogue when we lived on a farm in the North of South Africa, 27 years ago!)</p><p>Our tree is an aging fake - about 12 years old now - that, in a bid to be a real tree, manages to shed bits of needle-shaped green all over the carpet with alarming zeal. It is already (almost 5 days in) beginning to irk me...</p><p>However, despite the massive blob of tree messing with the feng shui, I actually find that I am surprisingly chipper heading into Festive Season 2020. It might be that I have a valid reason to avoid the shops - the Hermes delivery guy now stops for a brief (socially distanced) chat. I also have a VERY good reason not to plan Christmas dinner (what's a girl to do - can't get to the shops!) and (sorry relatives and lovely friends) a really good reason not to have to fake Christmas cheer through compulsory Christmas visits. Not that I dislike visiting people, but not under the artifice of Christmas. I can also eat as many mince pies as I like in the comfort of my own home and blame my pie-like appearance on lockdown...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uSQ2N8eeurQ/X9IjCaCo8xI/AAAAAAAAAxU/zhOVQVEv5QIhBwXQBzOVJXeqL5gQXmhCwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/gingerbread%2B20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1914" height="270" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uSQ2N8eeurQ/X9IjCaCo8xI/AAAAAAAAAxU/zhOVQVEv5QIhBwXQBzOVJXeqL5gQXmhCwCLcBGAsYHQ/w252-h270/gingerbread%2B20.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>Any-way, Christmas is what you make it (like anything). And, after making Christmas wreaths and salt-dough decorations, we have now made our annual gingerbread cookies. We began making gingerbread when we lived in Mozambique. Unable to find chocolate baubles, we made gingerbread cookies to hang on the tree - and our `tradition' has stuck. I have to admit that I am the bringer of ideas and often not the actioner of ideas - so my elder daughters have always made the gingerbread. It has always been great gingerbread! This is actually the first year that I've made it myself....and it wasn't quite as good. Any-way, this is the recipe we use:<p></p><p>350g plain flour</p><p>1tsp bicarb of soda</p><p>2 tsp ground ginger</p><p>1 tsp cinnamon</p><p>125g butter</p><p>175g brown sugar</p><p>1 egg</p><p>4 tbsp golden syrup</p><p>1. Sift (on in my case - throw together) flour, bicarb & spices</p><p>2. Add butter and mix until like breadcrumbs</p><p>3. Stir in sugar</p><p>4. Beat egg and syrup together (sounds impossible - but it actually works)</p><p>5. Add egg-syrup mixture to other ingredients and knead until smooth.</p><p>6. Rest for 15 minutes.</p><p>7. Roll, cut-out & bake at 180 C for 15 mins</p><p>8. Ice when cool.</p><p>Voila!</p><p>A very tasty, fun way to liven up non-Christmas!</p><p>Oh - and do you know that Christmas is now just two weeks away....</p><p>And then the Christmas tree can come down!</p><p>Whoooo!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-24926026117695839972020-11-29T03:21:00.000-08:002020-11-29T03:21:15.536-08:00Brightening bleak mid-Winter<div class="separator"><br /></div><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ppHczJ6pXUM/X8N89kg8r1I/AAAAAAAAAus/F-8QAc9tpXYlasxsYTmmeUltogFsdPrPQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/mist%2B2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ppHczJ6pXUM/X8N89kg8r1I/AAAAAAAAAus/F-8QAc9tpXYlasxsYTmmeUltogFsdPrPQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/mist%2B2020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In truth, it's not quite mid-Winter, but with only three weeks to go until the shortest day here in the Northern hemisphere, it has begun to feel a bit bleak. Not only has Covid done a dirty on family gatherings, but the weather itself has descended into that grey nothingness that so often characterises December (and is only alleviated by fires, mulled wine and the occasional magnificently fierce frosty day)<p></p><p>There are, of course, ups to the season of dormancy. Bare root trees and shrubs can be bought for a fraction of the price of their potted warm weather cousins. I have acquired two cherry trees and two June berries (amelanchier lamarckii). I read about the latter in an article and am really excited to see what happens in the Spring. While my specimens are quite small and twiggy, I am promised a show of white flowers and berries which are like blue berries. It makes the wait for Spring all the more exciting - watch this space!</p><p>Bare-root acquisitions are one way to make this time of the year interesting, but there are other ways too, which, while they require some shopping, do more than supermarket offerings to warm the cockles of our hearts. As many of you will know, I am no fan of the festive season. I dislike the rampant consumerism that characterises a UK Christmas and have forged a reputation as a Grinch. But I also have children and, as my Christmas-loving husband keeps reminding me, I shouldn't `spoil it for them' - or him, I suspect. And, while my Grinch-ish nature is inclined to call it ` a dose of reality', the mum in me acknowledges his point. And so, following on the traditions of Grandma Whyman who used to make our Christmas cake and my friend Margaret, who makes preserves as gifts, over the last several years we have begun our own `making' traditions. </p><p>The first of these is making gingerbread biscuits. We began this `tradition' while living in Mozambique. Unable to find chocolate baubles to hang on the tree (too hot), we decided to make gingerbread decorations to hang instead. It was such fun, that the tradition has stuck. So now we get together to bake and decorate gingerbread on one of the first weekends of December. We make a huge batch and take some round to the neighbours. My middle daughter is now living in Wales, but she assures me that she will also be making gingerbread this year. (I have to be honest, there is a fair amount of gingerbread eating that goes on - not a lot lands up on the tree any more).</p><p>The second `tradition' is a new one. Last year, we were lucky enough to be invited along to a wreath making session with a bunch of friends. My youngest daughter and I each made a wreath, and enjoyed it so much, that we decided to do it again this year. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DCLJvRNNOnQ/X8N-eWm2pWI/AAAAAAAAAvs/VXY2GJtqBIY0cSLkPLQzbgJQQZ6eDAHEACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/woven%2Bbases.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="165" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DCLJvRNNOnQ/X8N-eWm2pWI/AAAAAAAAAvs/VXY2GJtqBIY0cSLkPLQzbgJQQZ6eDAHEACLcBGAsYHQ/w220-h165/woven%2Bbases.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>Our 2019 wreaths were moss based and this year we wanted to make wreaths for friends and family, but the Grinch in me baulked at the idea of all those wire frames which would, inevitably, end up chucked out. (Besides, they would be heavy to post). Inspiration struck while cutting back the Virginia Creeper: it occurred to me that the vines were pliable enough to weave. So I did - making the bases for several wreaths quite easily. This last week, my daughters (eldest and youngest) and I transformed them from woody rounds to festive decorations. I am lucky to have a huge rosemary bush and so we used rosemary sprigs as the basic greenery, attached with easily available floristry wire. My eldest daughter visited Wilko (eek! - but she enjoys the shops at this time of the year) and came back with a trove of wreath decorations, from the natural (pinecones with twine attachments) to the tacky (plastic berries and frosted apples). <div>(As an aside: as all the tat - and the pinecones - are reusable, I have to admit that I don't mind it too much.)</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q8CJUI6pBjs/X8N_Q5lzh_I/AAAAAAAAAwA/PVjv5TrUofcQzD94UwvPWYfwH3vDxR3LQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/rosemary%2Bbase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q8CJUI6pBjs/X8N_Q5lzh_I/AAAAAAAAAwA/PVjv5TrUofcQzD94UwvPWYfwH3vDxR3LQCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/rosemary%2Bbase.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPJuO9A6EVw/X8N_Q8ZmK6I/AAAAAAAAAwE/o7zBJrX-Zs0CYfeIZ6DK8ZqccTeKDVc9gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/m%2Bwreath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPJuO9A6EVw/X8N_Q8ZmK6I/AAAAAAAAAwE/o7zBJrX-Zs0CYfeIZ6DK8ZqccTeKDVc9gCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/m%2Bwreath.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-is_6DvrDS18/X8N_QqUFXOI/AAAAAAAAAv8/Bst9tdMmV40xPde6mDAnB4VbwkRkTb3XgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/r%2Bwreath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-is_6DvrDS18/X8N_QqUFXOI/AAAAAAAAAv8/Bst9tdMmV40xPde6mDAnB4VbwkRkTb3XgCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/r%2Bwreath.jpg" width="150" /></a></div></div></div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">There is actually a lot of natural decoration out there. I scoured my rose bushes for rosehips (make sure they haven't gone mushy) and raided the edges of the playing field for berries. Left-over ribbon also comes in handy. And - tarra! We made wreaths which we packaged in recycled cardboard boxes and sent off to Wales, Kent , Hertfordshire and a different spot of Essex!</span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M1x2RzOduL4/X8OASNcuTcI/AAAAAAAAAwU/WKqxv8MeZ40OwzlJSuYvhtMIGs7uGkIfwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/wreath%2B2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M1x2RzOduL4/X8OASNcuTcI/AAAAAAAAAwU/WKqxv8MeZ40OwzlJSuYvhtMIGs7uGkIfwCLcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/wreath%2B2020.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>For our own wreaths, we re-used the moss wreaths from last year. just soaking the moss in water to rejuvenate it. Berried ivy is plentiful along most country lanes, but we actually have our own in the garden, and this formed the basic `greenery' of the wreaths. We recycled many of the decorations from last year and I risked life and limb to gather as many rosehips as possible to add the required red ( I really did - still picking thorns out!) We (my youngest daughter and I ) are really quite pleased with the results and the grey of almost-December seems a little less bleak.<p></p><p></p><p>Next stop: hauling out the tree and making gingerbread. But that can all wait a week or two. This grinch needs festive cheer in small doses...</p><p><br /></p><p>PS: if you want a more comprehensive guide, and loads of ideas, to making your own wreath, have a look at this page:</p><p><a href="https://www.gardensillustrated.com/christmas/make-christmas-wreath-big/#:~:text=The%20berries%20should%20naturally%20disperse%20around%20the%20wreath%2C,and%20robust%2C%20usually%20found%20growing%20in%20the%20sun.">How to make a Christmas wreath - Gardens Illustrated</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-4248947228576233232020-11-13T07:14:00.000-08:002020-11-13T07:14:46.949-08:00Beware - the Grinch cometh!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zQfHv70j-go/X66h-6pszxI/AAAAAAAAAtk/SrZrHkiIq8Q6hiAwbdg8fnTuNGfhQhnEACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/rosehip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zQfHv70j-go/X66h-6pszxI/AAAAAAAAAtk/SrZrHkiIq8Q6hiAwbdg8fnTuNGfhQhnEACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/rosehip.jpg" /></a></div><br />So here we are: mid-November and Kevin the Carrot* has made his grand entrance (with, I have to admit, a very cute hedgehog). The latest lockdown has meant that the Christmas hype has started VERY early. Which has got me started - very early.<p></p><p>If you love Christmas, look away now. No, seriously, you have been warned.</p><p>I loathe Christmas and all the Christmas hype on telly is starting to push me over the edge (really, M&S? Gin with gold bits? What if they get stuck in your throat? And what nutritional value could they possibly have? I'm pretty sure you can't taste them!)</p><p>Urgh. Christmas.</p><p>Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against the religious ceremony. In fact, I love midnight mass, having had the privilege of first attending in Nazareth as a Rotary exchange student many years ago. My church attendance has flagged over the years, but the spiritual part of Christmas (or mid-Winter) is not on my loathing list. Nor is the `goodwill to mankind', which really should be part of our everyday living. </p><p>What is on my Loathe List is the excess that surrounds this holiday. I have lived in four countries and can honestly say that the UK tops the other three, by a mile, in wanton, excessive capitalism when it comes to Christmas. We all know the story - hours spent trying to find parking at the local supermarket as people shop and shop and shop and shop and shop ad nauseum. This despite the shops only closing for a day (so that we can get out and shop and shop and shop and shop for New Year). On every other day, we are happy to have a meat/meat substitute, a starch and a veg. At Christmas we feel obliged to have two or three of everything. And dessert. And snacks and sides. And so much gets thrown away. I get it, I do: its that mid-Winter thing of celebrating that we've made it through the dark days of December (although I have to point out that there are at least two more months of dark days to come...) but really, so much? </p><p>Aside from the food waste, there is also the tat-fest that is Christmas. We are obliged to buy each other all sorts of rubbish that most people don't really want. Every year, thousands of people spend money they don't have on `making Christmas special' and then spend the whole of the next year struggling to pay off their debts. Why? Last year, money guru, Martin Lewis urged people not to buy unnecessary gifts and definitely not to buy gifts that they can't afford. This year, more than ever, with all the uncertainty that surrounds our economy, surely it makes even more sense.</p><p>Don't get me wrong - I like presents, but I like them to mean something. When my husband's Grandma was alive, she would make us a Christmas cake each year. I loved that. The idea that she had thought of us. Made something just for us. For me, it exemplified the bonds that should be celebrated at Christmas.</p><p>My pragmatic friend, Margaret always gives us marmalade, jams and chutneys at Christmas. I love what has become a tradition. Again, she has put a bit of herself into a gift, making it something no supermarket can sell. (To be fair, she is also the queen of the garden glove and bamboo sock - but they are equally well-considered, useful gifts).</p><p>Last year, when my daughters began to ask what I wanted for Christmas (poor things, they should know better by now) I told them that I only wanted something that they had made. And they were brilliant! Daughter One made fudge and infused olive oil with garlic. Daughter Two made soap (not for the faint-hearted) and hand-painted a mug. Daughter Three (not even 11 at the time) turned the caps of my favourite bottled ale into earrings. It was wonderful!</p><p>This year, I think I will repeat myself and see what happens. I think of it as a challenge.</p><p>As for me: well, I have sloe gin and crab apple gin brewing. I have made pickle and jam and I am a bit artsy on the side... None of which my daughters want for their actual gifts. So I will compromise and get them something they otherwise would not have. I will try to make it practical and it will be wrapped in recyclable brown paper with reusable ribbon. </p><p>While Joan Collins has this week put up her Christmas Tree, mine will go up in early December (and come down on Boxing Day) And here we will go again: the husband (a big fan of Christmas) and I will have the usual meltdown over excess versus generosity. This will result in him doing all the Christmas shopping and cooking (poor thing, you'd think he'd have learned by now) and I will `happy face' it all through December 25th (even though everyone knows I am lying). </p><p>I suppose you could call it a Christmas tradition...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xC3i2QxFrCY/X66iX7tWAvI/AAAAAAAAAts/tuDgLK2s5voT-VAQ-v5Gp-9A0E82OZodgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/misty%2Bfields.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xC3i2QxFrCY/X66iX7tWAvI/AAAAAAAAAts/tuDgLK2s5voT-VAQ-v5Gp-9A0E82OZodgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/misty%2Bfields.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>* Kevin the Carrot is the hero of the Aldi Christmas adverts</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-91842542980305662732020-10-27T06:20:00.001-07:002020-10-27T06:20:29.247-07:00Grey Days<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jKt5nnT8Pbw/X5gboVFbckI/AAAAAAAAAsc/-TvEhFnjFWYSFD9yuqjjRcZrwey0uMSRACLcBGAsYHQ/s1836/sleeping%2Bskipper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1532" data-original-width="1836" height="120" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jKt5nnT8Pbw/X5gboVFbckI/AAAAAAAAAsc/-TvEhFnjFWYSFD9yuqjjRcZrwey0uMSRACLcBGAsYHQ/w146-h120/sleeping%2Bskipper.jpg" width="146" /></a></div> As I write, the rain is beating against the windows and the view is of a cold and pretty soggy world. I haven't worked up enough `go' to take the dog for a walk and he has had to do with a ball thrown across the lounge (not a brilliant idea, since I now have ball-shaped splodges on the carpet, the wall, the door...) The weather is grim and the country-wide Covid news pretty grim too. It can be tempting to be downright negative! Fortunately, there is always something fantastic out there if you stop long enough to look.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EEtwt-uPYxA/X5gcgoucp0I/AAAAAAAAAs4/BWKBq3aAKYsbpPHzrbTnUvIqvdU2fUwFwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/wet%2Bcrabapple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1413" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EEtwt-uPYxA/X5gcgoucp0I/AAAAAAAAAs4/BWKBq3aAKYsbpPHzrbTnUvIqvdU2fUwFwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/wet%2Bcrabapple.jpg" /></a></div>The birds, for one. Despite the rain, my garden is absolutely teeming with birds. I put food out sporadically, but my neighbour has bird feeders (with actual food!), so I suspect I might be benefiting from his collateral. While neither birds nor neighbour seem to mind that I am cashing in, I'm enjoying every moment. There are still wood pigeons about,( mostly sitting mournfully and ridiculously in the rain) but a pair of ring-necked doves have become regular visitors to the lawn. My favourites, the blackbirds are taking full advantage of the fruit-laden crab apple tree, as are the blue tits. And we seem to have a sudden surge in the population of chaffinches. Months ago, I was terrorised by an especially territorial chaffinch who took umbrage whenever he saw his own reflection (car wing mirrors, windows, sliding doors, conservatory, any window...) and threw himself against all surfaces with great gusto. My car had bags over the wing mirrors for days and I spent a large proportion of my time shooing away the feisty little bird. I can only imagine that his territorial ambitions were realised, because I now seem to have more chaffinches about than I can count. I'm not sure what they will do when the weather gets colder, since I've never had the opportunity to notice before. Anyone?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p9tj8nRk9AQ/X5gcGW7-CdI/AAAAAAAAAsk/FZyKNatX3nA_HTxrkdkQ_k8jwwPJEXNgQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/wet%2Bcrabapple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p>The weather has limited my garden activities (yes, I know, I'm clearly not dedicated enough) but I have decided to try winter-sown crops this year. Despite spinach being a roaring success in previous years, the slugs have stripped every plant back to a few skeletal stalks. I never actually see a slug, so I must assume that these are very particular stealth slugs. No matter - they appear to not like kale, so I have something green and leafy to pick. I also threw in the last of the lettuce seeds and now have three lettuce plants that seem to be happily avoiding slug attention. The miracle butternut (the last survivor of seeds sown from a supermarket butternut) has produced two reasonably sized fruits and I am now just waiting for them to take on butternut colouring before I harvest them. The great excitement has been the planting of onions. I put them in about two weeks ago and there are already some strong stalks peeping up from the trenches - so cause for optimism. I have also planted leeks, although I must admit to finding leeks a bit of a challenge in the past. They do grow, but are so much slower than I imagined they would be. And then my first crop was so gritty that it barely seemed worth the effort. HOWEVER, by being a lazy gardener and not pulling them out, I discovered that they create the most gorgeous flowers, which look lovely cut, even if they do smell a little oniony. The bees also love them. So I have to admit that the leeks are there more for flowers than eating - although I suppose I will think again when they are actually eating size.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ug5RBrGu2MU/X5gcGvNh8MI/AAAAAAAAAso/v0GIBbbQ1g0N9wAhDqc7c3NSPwcytw7YACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/chilli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="277" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ug5RBrGu2MU/X5gcGvNh8MI/AAAAAAAAAso/v0GIBbbQ1g0N9wAhDqc7c3NSPwcytw7YACLcBGAsYHQ/w208-h277/chilli.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><p></p><p>Two chilli plants, grown from seed as a father's day present in June, seem to be doing well in the greenhouse - so maybe there will be some chillies soon. I had one pepper plant in my veg patch that was looking increasing miserable, so I have dug that up and put it in a pot in the greenhouse too. It remains to be seen whether I have killed it or not.</p><p>One of the nice things about the approaching winter is that it is the season to order (and plant) bare-root trees. I have cherry ambitions this year, but have been beguiled by advertisements of dwarf fruit trees that can be grown in pots. A lemon tree looks extremely tempting, with many boasting hardiness to -5 degrees. Hmmm - decisions.</p><p>So good things to look forward too, even if it is wet and cold.</p><p>Talking of good things: one of the positive outcomes of this really strange year is the way that so many communities have come together. I have to admit to not really being a community type. Although I have nothing against participation, I've never really felt inclined to join in, but this year has made me re-evaluate. In my rather small village, I have to give a shout-out to the pub. The Fox has emerged as the hub of our community. In the worst days of lockdown, The Fox took the initiative to open a community shop and has continued to offer online pub-quizzes, takeaways and, more lately, the ability to get out in a safe and regulated environment. In short - somewhere for locals (just family bubbles at the moment) to feel some sense of normality. They are even the initiative behind the socially distanced `pumpkin trail' planned for Halloween this year. </p><p>I am sure that there are pubs, coffee shops and restaurants all over the country (and the world) that have become as important to their communities in ways that we didn't really appreciate before now. I know that right now, here in the UK, the hospitality industry is rising to the challenge of providing low income children with meals over the holidays. I take my hat off to every single establishment which, like the Fox, has held their community together over the last months.</p><p>Am I still a solo player? Well, I hope I am on my way to becoming more useful. I attended my local council meeting this month and hope to do so again. Not only could I air my own concerns, but it was good to see what is happening in my community over all. I appreciate that I live in a small rural environment, but I really think that everyone should do the same (at least every now and again). We all want a better world. I think we might need to participate more in the moulding of our communities if this better world is to be achieved.</p><p>So how's that for a cold and wet morning? Birds, veg and a soap box too!</p><p>And pumpkins!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fYyhOIRgYHI/X5gc9afFLlI/AAAAAAAAAtA/_GOKdT5tU505KVrd69VIezuv2_qKaq4XwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/pumpkins%2B2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fYyhOIRgYHI/X5gc9afFLlI/AAAAAAAAAtA/_GOKdT5tU505KVrd69VIezuv2_qKaq4XwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/pumpkins%2B2020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>( As an aside: we got our pumpkins from Hatter's Farm in Takely. They have a pumpkin cannon - fabulous fun!)</p><p>Stay safe, everyone!</p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-42450367621372798162020-10-10T08:14:00.001-07:002020-10-10T08:14:15.158-07:00Green tomatoes and red leaves<p> A few days ago, I sent my daughter out to pick all the remaining green tomatoes. The season has ended quite abruptly and it was clear that no more would ripen. I watched her for a while. She stood carefully in the muddy veggie patch and tentatively picked a couple in full view. Irked, I joined her and picked all the ones that drooped on dropped stems and hid behind leaves.</p><p>`If we lived 200 hundred years ago, we'd be reliant on every tomato we could pick!' I preached.</p><p>My daughter picked another tomato. `We would definitely survive,' she said, in a blatant attempt to make me feel proud of my efforts.</p><p>Well, no. If my veggie patch was the difference between surviving and starvation, I don't think the odds would be particularly good. There is, however, something enormously satisfying about growing and eating your own produce. At this time of the year, this satisfaction is augmented by preserving.</p><p>A bumper crop of tomatoes have meant that I have been able to bottle several efforts of jam, pickle and chutney, the last of which was made from the afore-mentioned green tomatoes. The green tomatoes are a particular triumph as, without the effort of making them into chutney, they would have gone to waste. And wasting all that summer work in getting them to grow in the first place would have been really irritating!</p><p>Recipes for green tomato chutney are easy enough to find and equally easy to adapt. This particular batch is extra hot, because I couldn't find my frozen chopped chilli (don't ask) and so added ground chilli and black pepper. Then I found where I had put the frozen chilli...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tItzBaTz6Dw/X4HKMSzMeNI/AAAAAAAAAro/h_6BxRpanQA0ZUcqOUE2lG0CLg_njEGzwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/pickle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tItzBaTz6Dw/X4HKMSzMeNI/AAAAAAAAAro/h_6BxRpanQA0ZUcqOUE2lG0CLg_njEGzwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/pickle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Never mind, I am sure it will add some (considerable) warmth to many a winter meal. When it has matured for a bit.... and maybe mellowed.</p><p>In the last week, I have also had my usual October skirmish with crab apple jelly. As mentioned before, crab apples are absolutely delicious as jelly, jam and gin, but they are a bit of a faff* to sort out. The making of jelly requires patience, which I am notoriously low on. Which explains why I will shortly be re-boiling my `jelly' in order to have it set. And this is ok - because it has become a sort-of tradition in my Autumn calendar.</p><p>Despite the colder days, I love Autumn. I have a soft spot for trees and the change of seasons allows such a gorgeous display. My absolute favourite is when the sun breaks through and the red and gold of Autumn leaves shimmer against a dark cloud background. Beautiful.</p><p>My own garden has an Autumn wonder of its own. The previous owners (or maybe the ones previous to them) planted two Virginia Creepers - one that creeps over the workshop and back hedge, and one on a trellis near the conservatory. My gardening-guru friend tut-tutted knowingly when she first saw them, advising me that it might be best to pull them out. And, in many ways, she had a point. The Virginia Creeper must have been the inspiration for the triffid. It grows at an astonishing speed from Spring to late Summer, colonising anything it can get its tendrils on. I spend hours every year pulling off errant tendrils that have invaded the veg patch, crept between boards and tiles and thrown themselves into the water butts.</p><p>But in the summer, it creates a dense roof to the trellis - so dense that we have eaten dinner in the rain beneath it - while providing a cool spot and a place for birds to nest. In the Autumn, it is simply stunning.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JMLLECuZpGA/X4HLfHkIW4I/AAAAAAAAAr0/uNob02-1aTktWJUIU617j4gY8G4uh5VgQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/virginia%2Bcreeper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1384" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JMLLECuZpGA/X4HLfHkIW4I/AAAAAAAAAr0/uNob02-1aTktWJUIU617j4gY8G4uh5VgQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/virginia%2Bcreeper.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Come Autumn<br /></i><i>And the Virginia Creeper<br /></i><i>Turns to flame –<br /> </i><i>Fire catching and falling<br /></i><i>In a sun gone sparse.<br /></i><i>Glorious,<br /> </i><i>It bleeds across trellis<br /></i><i>And roof-edges,<br /></i><i>Until the gusts<br /></i><i>Send leaves sparking, falling.<br /></i><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>(</i>From: Virginia Creeper; Fieldsong; Mandy Whyman; 2020)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't know why, but I find Autumn extremely optimistic. Its when the preparations are made for the next year of sowing and growing. Its a time when we assess the year that is almost done (thank goodness, in the case of 2020!) and dream of all that we will do when the Spring comes again.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Happy October, everyone!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">* faff - a great deal of ineffective activity</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p>
</p><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-85259200214783862702020-09-21T03:07:00.001-07:002020-09-21T03:49:41.147-07:00Autumn is in the air<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pnVzhIKtsn0/X2h0VZFD2zI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/_Jpg9ZDBZyMNRvUfUK6ODTWDMzeDB97QACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/misty%2Bmorning.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1362" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pnVzhIKtsn0/X2h0VZFD2zI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/_Jpg9ZDBZyMNRvUfUK6ODTWDMzeDB97QACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h266/misty%2Bmorning.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> I woke this morning to find a mist hanging low over the world - the first real morning mist of the Autumn. I love misty mornings - there is something fantastical and mysterious about them - how the world is changed into something unfamiliar and muted. But at the same time, I have to admit it made me feel a little sad, because it signifies the ending of the Summer. The end of this summer seems particularly poignant: a year when we have needed the optimism of the sun and long, balmy days.<p></p><p>And so Autumn comes. </p><p>My garden has been particularly pleasing in the last couple of weeks - payoff for the many months of slog and little to show. The tomatoes have reddened up and the crop has been good - although I suspect they have now contracted a case of late blight, so I might well be collecting green tomatoes for green tomato chutney. (Every year is a new lesson learned...)</p><p>The sweetcorn have now finished and been pulled up. As years go, its been okay, if not bumper. Each corn plant has yielded an ear, which isn't exactly staggering, but enough for our barbecue needs. </p><p>The cucumbers have had a late flourish and I have suddenly got several fruits off one plant - which is great, since my cucumber-growing record is a bit dismal. And the late-fruiting raspberries that I put in at the end of last year have cropped really well - a good handful for breakfast every morning. My `miracle' butternut plants, grown from the seed of a supermarket butternut are running riot and there are one or two fruit - not sure what will actually be harvestable, but they have been fun.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2nZdWOzNsMo/X2h0pAxeMHI/AAAAAAAAAqY/blPxcjl5quUCWBXxrlY-uSikSEWsuhTIACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/cherry%2Btoms.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2nZdWOzNsMo/X2h0pAxeMHI/AAAAAAAAAqY/blPxcjl5quUCWBXxrlY-uSikSEWsuhTIACLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/cherry%2Btoms.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D090KhmsU5M/X2h0pY9KADI/AAAAAAAAAqc/xYgy2Om9HTw5VxSeTxiaG6CaIeV8zw6rgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/raspberries.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D090KhmsU5M/X2h0pY9KADI/AAAAAAAAAqc/xYgy2Om9HTw5VxSeTxiaG6CaIeV8zw6rgCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/raspberries.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><p>There have been failures too. The courgette have been dismal and frankly, I am wondering why I bother. I'm the only person in the house who eats courgette (although I grate it up and sneak it into bolognaise sauces) and a large courgette-come-marrow can take quite a lot of eating! I also read an article that some rogue seed had got out this year and some home-grown courgette have actually turned out to be toxic (cheers from my family who are delighted to have a reason not to eat the stuff!) Apparently, if your raw courgette tastes bitter, it is possibly poisonous. I can't remember the particulars, but I don't think it will kill you - just make you quite ill. If you want more details, I have pasted a link from the Metro below. Its all a bit tabloid, but you'll get the general gist. (I must add that it is a genuine article, not one that I made up to create general hilarity - and erm, Wetwang is a real place)</p><p><a href="https://metro.co.uk/2020/08/21/man-poisoned-eating-homegrown-courgettes-13157936/#:~:text=An%20amateur%20gardener%20has%20reported%20having%20%E2%80%98the%20worst,cultivated%20in%20his%20garden%20in%20Wetwang%2C%20East%20Yorkshire.">https://metro.co.uk/2020/08/21/man-poisoned-eating-homegrown-courgettes-13157936/#:~:text=An%20amateur%20gardener%20has%20reported%20having%20%E2%80%98the%20worst,cultivated%20in%20his%20garden%20in%20Wetwang%2C%20East%20Yorkshire.</a></p><p>The highlight of my Autumn garden is my wonderful crab apple tree. Seriously, if you don't have one, consider getting one. The wildlife love it, the blossom is beautiful and the fruits are absolutely gorgeous to look at (and to eat, given a bit of effort). My little tree produces wonderful clusters of cherry-red miniature apples.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jQL1fxdwae8/X2h1tN2RIcI/AAAAAAAAAqs/sHS-vlJ5rns6oH5zTEevkTQLN7E2XYdyACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/crabapple.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jQL1fxdwae8/X2h1tN2RIcI/AAAAAAAAAqs/sHS-vlJ5rns6oH5zTEevkTQLN7E2XYdyACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/crabapple.jpg" /></a></div><br />Processing the fruit is a bit of a mission, because they are small, but I make crab apple jelly (delicious) and last year experimented with crab apple gin - an experiment I will repeat this year. In the past, I have also frozen the jelly and used a teaspoon of it in the bottom of a tot of gin as a home-made exotic liqueur. Really good! The jelly sinks, so its not perfect, but that's what experimenting is all about. The crab apples are really tart, so processed crab apples added to normal stewed apples in a pie or a crumble give an extra layer of flavour. <p></p><p>But be warned, processing crab apples is a whole day affair with much cooking and straining. My husband bought me a contraption to strain the jelly, but I found it was a lot easier to peg a muslin cloth over the top of a large bowl. You aren't supposed to force the liquid through, but I don't have the patience not to. There are lots of recipes out there on the internet which take various amounts of time. I tend to ignore the bits that sound too laborious - I add the sugar first time round and never add lemon, mostly because I hardly ever have a lemon in the house. So I would say this is really a `make it up as you go along' sort of exercise (which are always the best ones!)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OVI1ZBAK1bw/X2h4iciOplI/AAAAAAAAArA/Y3i-EXBB8HITEaJ9TyoZq7sxWHF92s0swCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/firepit.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OVI1ZBAK1bw/X2h4iciOplI/AAAAAAAAArA/Y3i-EXBB8HITEaJ9TyoZq7sxWHF92s0swCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/firepit.jpg" /></a></div><br />Talking of making it up as you go along: my long-suffering husband has had to make stuff up for me as the summer has progressed (`I need a climbing arch for the cucumbers', `can we have a pergola for the grapes to grow on?' and so on...) He has, however had a reward of sorts in that I have given him my old washing machine drum as a fire-pit. The drum itself was salvaged by a friend of mine (she gave me two at one point) to be used as a large outdoors container. I used it for a while for a large chilli plant and it has also housed tomato plants, but as it turns out, it makes a fantastic fire-pit! So, as the nights draw in and we burn the garden refuse (and left-overs from projects), we have an excuse to sit around a warm fire with a marshmallow or two (and something alcoholic). Its made for a happy, if rather smoky husband who has forgotten that all my demands (I think...).<p></p>Wishing you all warm Autumn evenings, wherever you are.<br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-50609998431173997272020-08-29T12:55:00.002-07:002020-08-29T12:55:50.263-07:00Time, time, time...<p> 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!)</p><p>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. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZIit8QWq1fo/X0qtIS8WJuI/AAAAAAAAAoU/Mbh3ZQXONQsPbrhWwGrl1ZIJLU-gFEevgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/sunset%2Broof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1473" data-original-width="2048" height="294" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZIit8QWq1fo/X0qtIS8WJuI/AAAAAAAAAoU/Mbh3ZQXONQsPbrhWwGrl1ZIJLU-gFEevgCLcBGAsYHQ/w410-h294/sunset%2Broof.jpg" width="410" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>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.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JCJ5Y7jKKdU/X0qtjLT74VI/AAAAAAAAAoc/gBPET9BtFGMl4Nyh69XxBNqnTYfIaRHxACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/sloe%2Bgin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="328" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JCJ5Y7jKKdU/X0qtjLT74VI/AAAAAAAAAoc/gBPET9BtFGMl4Nyh69XxBNqnTYfIaRHxACLcBGAsYHQ/w246-h328/sloe%2Bgin.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4S7enrotQB0/X0qtmXi1MAI/AAAAAAAAAog/BFgHRqwLG1UnzAQsxFWGdMW4k_05J18UgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/sloe%2Bgin%2Bglass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1932" height="262" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4S7enrotQB0/X0qtmXi1MAI/AAAAAAAAAog/BFgHRqwLG1UnzAQsxFWGdMW4k_05J18UgCLcBGAsYHQ/w247-h262/sloe%2Bgin%2Bglass.jpg" width="247" /></a><br /><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>Keep safe, all. </p><p>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:</p><p><img height="319" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51HTaQDO0gL._SX321_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="206" /></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Fieldsong-Love-Poems-rural-Essex/dp/B08DSS7GRC/ref=sxts_sxwds-bia-wc-p13n1_0?cv_ct_cx=fieldsong&dchild=1&keywords=fieldsong&pd_rd_i=B08DSS7GRC&pd_rd_r=e8ca0645-ab74-4f1b-a0c0-592966b43c48&pd_rd_w=mZ8fM&pd_rd_wg=7llNn&pf_rd_p=49535b66-f5c7-451e-8137-28786d545ec4&pf_rd_r=TZRGRA6S29MPD119PE6M&psc=1&qid=1598730109&sr=1-1-fdbae751-0fa5-4c0f-900b-865654896618">www.amazon.co.uk/Fieldsong-Love-Poems-rural-Essex/</a></p><p><br /></p>mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-2772015228466325742020-06-26T09:28:00.002-07:002020-06-26T09:28:25.873-07:00Emerging....we think.<div style="text-align: justify;">
April became May, became June and little feels changed. Our absurdly good weather continues as Mother Nature thumbs her nose at us mere mortals and the less clever out there flock to crowded beaches and share sweat, amongst other things.</div>
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Lockdown has been a test for us all.</div>
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At first, I viewed the uninterrupted timespan as an opportunity to do, well, EVERYTHING! But there is an absurdity in having loads of time. Tomorrow is free - and the day after, so it is hard to find direction. Suffice to say that I have done very little on the EVERYTHING list.</div>
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One of the things I have done is to slave away at the veggie garden. Early results were positive as my greenhouse filled up with sprouting kale, tomatoes, cucumber, spinach, courgette, beans and even butternut. It was all looking bumper-crop out there for a minute. </div>
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Then I planted my seedlings out.</div>
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When I first attempted spinach in my new garden, my neighbour told me, with great confidence, that `nothing eats spinach.' And that was true - that year and the two years that followed. This year however, something definitely eats spinach! Eight spinach plants were reduced to nothing in the space of a single night.</div>
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Something also definitely eats courgette and cucumber plants. Bizarrely, `something' has left the beans, corn and the mangetout (a usual delicacy)alone, but has chomped its way through every cucumber plant with great gusto - and a little bit of cruelty. Typically, the leaves disappear on the first night, then the stalk is despatched on night two.</div>
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In a fit of eco-gardening pique, I rushed out to the local garden centre as soon as it opened and purchased a dozen marigolds. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I remembered that marigolds, planted as companion plants, can dissuade pests. I planted marigolds strategically between my crops and, fairly confident, shut the gate on the veggie patch.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q4DTH2J9lxo/XvYeQPZpbuI/AAAAAAAAAmg/URdgZaL1JqwgYwLq41nRhpzOwGc3N_OIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/sad%2Bmarigold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="661" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q4DTH2J9lxo/XvYeQPZpbuI/AAAAAAAAAmg/URdgZaL1JqwgYwLq41nRhpzOwGc3N_OIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/sad%2Bmarigold.jpg" width="82" /></a></div>
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You've probably guessed it: in the morning every single marigold was well and truly chomped - except for the flowers. They stood like forlorn little twigs, marking the spaces where the courgette and cucumber should have been. I imagined the `something' watching my astonishment and and grinning broadly. So I gave up. Sort of.</div>
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I'm pleased to say that I devised a sneak attack and now have TWO (yes, two!) cucumber plants and Two (yes! TWO!) courgettes that are big enough to dissuade the `something'. The cucumber plants are the result of trial and error and sacrifice. I cultivated them in the greenhouse and then cautiously planted them out - one at a time. They were like the sacrificial goat. I kept trying different barriers, but nothing stopped their demise. I was left with two plants that grew big and strong. The one was planted in a secret location, far from where the `something' is known to roam. And its doing just fine. The second almost became a permanent greenhouse fixture, but I often forget to water greenhouse plants, so the decision was made to plant it out. I constructed a very elaborate cage with enviro-mesh and the cucumber plant was transferred to the veggie patch. Success!</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6RP-_rfZfpc/XvYesVYTwAI/AAAAAAAAAmo/odxVY4xQNDIdLFX5msM_YlBWwDizh9LCACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/veg%2Bpatch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6RP-_rfZfpc/XvYesVYTwAI/AAAAAAAAAmo/odxVY4xQNDIdLFX5msM_YlBWwDizh9LCACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/veg%2Bpatch.jpg" width="400" /></a>The courgette story is a lot less involved: a friend has managed, without greenhouse or veggie patch, to grow an astonishing number of vegetables in pots. She gave me two courgette plants which are big enough to stave off the attentions of the `something'. Taa-daa! I think the `something' and I are just about even.</div>
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On another note (pun intended), the garden is fit to bursting with birds. Lockdown has obviously benefitted our feathered friends and my garden is far more fluttery and noisy than I ever remember it being. This year, for the first time, I have encountered a chaffinch close up. I have seen them before when out walking, but don't have much knowledge about this fiesty little bird.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"> </span><a href="http://www.publicdomainfiles.com/show_file.php?id=13946863229073" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.publicdomainfiles.com/</span></a></td></tr>
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The introduction was a bit brutal. Following the sounds of repetitive `thunks', I found a little bird fiercely attacking his reflection in my car wing-mirror. I chased him off and covered the mirror, whereupon he switched sides. So I had to cover up both mirrors. Undaunted, this territorially charged little bird then took on the lounge windows, the sliding doors and had a go at the conservatory. I spent a lot of time over two days shoo-ing off a crazed chaffinch and eventually thought I had won. Only to wake up on day three to a battering of the upstairs windows! I confess that I snuck up on him then and yelled `boo!'. He paused and observed me closely before flying off - perhaps checking that I wasn't that pesky chaffinch he'd been after for three days! I haven't seen him since, so can only assume that he has moved his territory to somewhere with fewer reflective surfaces.</div>
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My sister sent me a helpful article about how to discourage birds from pecking at windows. Apparently the proper way of deterring them is to stick bits of flapping plastic to reflective surfaces - thereby scaring them off. Interestingly, the same article mentioned that wild turkeys in the United States attack their reflections in car bodywork.(If this is a problem where you are, the advice is to not wash your car.) All I can say is that I'm really pleased to be dealing with a chaffinch - I'm not so sure if a wild turkey would respond to `boo!'</div>
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And just because I have this lovely photo: did you know that leeks, if allowed to go to seed, produce the most beautiful flowers? Leeks take forever to grow and my efforts were gritty and unpleasant - so I left them alone. Leek flowers make the most gorgeous long-lasting cut flowers - even if they smell a little oniony. Happy sunshine, everyone!</div>
<br />mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-48682575419439656242020-04-21T00:44:00.000-07:002020-04-21T00:44:07.909-07:00Flowers, foraging and other fumblesAs we enter week 5 of lockdown (or is it 4? Or maybe 3...who knows!) all sense of modern society seems to be slipping quietly into the background. Nature, however, doesn't pay even the vaguest attention to the ways of Man and the lack of cars, noise and pollution seem to have given Spring an extra boost as it bursts out in every garden and every side-walk.<br />
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Here, in our rural-ish corner of Essex, everything is in blossom and my garden is an unmitigated delight. In the last week, the apple tree, the crab apple tree (more about this wonderful tree another time) and the flowering cherry have put on the most glorious show. A visual re-affirmation that this too will pass and the seasons will continue to turn.<br />
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The birds are equally delighted by the coming of the warmer weather and a pair of blue tits are settling into the nesting box outside the kitchen window. It remains to be seen whether they manage to raise a family. In past years, the sparrows (those very cute thugs of the bird world) have harassed them mercilessly and forced them out, so fingers crossed..</div>
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But its not all blossom and birds. I continue the relentless task of digging the garden that is getting drier and harder with each day. The weather has been beautiful - but lack of rain also means lots of water carrying (our house has a single outdoor tap situated just outside the kitchen. Needless to say, most of the stuff that needs watering is quite far away...)</div>
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The lockdown, which has transformed visits to the supermarket into SAS-type operations of swoop and gather, has meant that not everything is as readily available as before. During the last week or so, this has meant some experimenting in the search for alternatives. The first was an attempt to make yoghurt. As an individual, I consume quite a lot of natural yoghurt (which could explain why the jeans don't get any looser - but that's another story), but as a family, it wasn't a priority on the supermarket swoop, so was forgotten. Some days into the yoghurt dilemma, I remembered my grandfather used to make emergency yoghurt by adding lemon juice to whole milk. It works - in a manner. The lemon juice curdles and thickens the milk. It doesn't look much like yoghurt, but it tastes quite yoghurty , with a lemon aftertaste which is fairly pleasant. However, this method needs lemons, which can be difficult to source because of reasons above, so I attempted to stretch the yoghurt I did have - with some success Essentially, this method requires some live yoghurt (natural yoghurt, full-fat is best) and a couple of pints of milk. The milk is heated and added to the yoghurt starter. The resulting mixture then needs to be left in a warm spot for about 8 hours. I used these instructions from farmdrop, which were the most straight-forward: </div>
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https://www.farmdrop.com/blog/make-yoghurt-scratch-5-easy-steps/</div>
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I was a little impatient, so my yoghurt wasn't as thick as it might have been, but it certainly tasted right and did the job!</div>
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A less successful experiment was the making of nettle pesto. I have been reliably informed by all sorts of blogs and a knowledgeable teacher friend, that nettle pesto is easy to make and good to eat. So, pesto being yet another luxury to fall off the shopping list, the Child and I spent our daily walk collecting nettles ( I can see your faces from here - we went out into the fields to try to avoid the dog-pee'd versions!)</div>
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With a sizeable haul in hand, we returned home to separate leaves from stems and then blanched the nettles. So far, so good. The issue was, I think, in the execution. I didn't have pine-nuts and I didn't have a specific recipe. I was also advised to clobber the mixture with a pestle and mortar, but I don't have one of those.....So I threw in a clove of garlic, some cheese, some salt and sunflower seeds and blitzed it all with my stick blender.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gGO772gStp0/Xp6WNkmpUMI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/0Nk_NYjleVs_JvyrBIMoYWYvupEVOZAdACEwYBhgLKs0DAL1OcqzlMUpG10E6IUr2KdmrArzO1zhE9vUfCFsCBEnaUsNpiz6CkESf9paWvA_mXzv_A7dNa5H_B2meAOpyJLuhac2KRt4dncNMIf1ASLmExXludqHL8ylC3vqm25wr3DLZLPneGti-pjLif1ka-pg65UgGxKvprH-jkPfxDS0u3LuuwkW9jTfjVLIAUvOP9ldADd_iAalLUK_-u7KlkqTkNqFHTNbmicsm2xoSygjnK_GIDcRlp0GRLk5i6rm8hmHrCNzzJSP7veo2ebiXS05N58lSZ_Yh4Kyg680cwGFPgigPovVslFb2Qdf4Zurk4amEwvpnZc_c0Ok4TggM1DO5GVK8dHPuJ5K7u-dBrmfqnvJWRb7XmB1DX7I2NCvedg3LWvCy4utSoRoF1j5qD0IrqwzI5qw8Q-RbZ9zRyA1z5xIUHXQvfXzDbm4zJKF1KD_JSgnqhQG8ao31o7iF4jPp76uUo29pIlyyONj2AoYM_9SAwPTOk5sDkJXV8mW5sgLvE7mYN7if234yLOoxZgr1zTJb2Dr2xGaQ9lNg2AFMjx3hxbsXllwnhDiWkdHJndx0EkOSgFKu-LjR1Ko3TvETddeUcteLOBy33ygwq7369AU/s1600/nettles%2Bpest%2Bbefore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gGO772gStp0/Xp6WNkmpUMI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/0Nk_NYjleVs_JvyrBIMoYWYvupEVOZAdACEwYBhgLKs0DAL1OcqzlMUpG10E6IUr2KdmrArzO1zhE9vUfCFsCBEnaUsNpiz6CkESf9paWvA_mXzv_A7dNa5H_B2meAOpyJLuhac2KRt4dncNMIf1ASLmExXludqHL8ylC3vqm25wr3DLZLPneGti-pjLif1ka-pg65UgGxKvprH-jkPfxDS0u3LuuwkW9jTfjVLIAUvOP9ldADd_iAalLUK_-u7KlkqTkNqFHTNbmicsm2xoSygjnK_GIDcRlp0GRLk5i6rm8hmHrCNzzJSP7veo2ebiXS05N58lSZ_Yh4Kyg680cwGFPgigPovVslFb2Qdf4Zurk4amEwvpnZc_c0Ok4TggM1DO5GVK8dHPuJ5K7u-dBrmfqnvJWRb7XmB1DX7I2NCvedg3LWvCy4utSoRoF1j5qD0IrqwzI5qw8Q-RbZ9zRyA1z5xIUHXQvfXzDbm4zJKF1KD_JSgnqhQG8ao31o7iF4jPp76uUo29pIlyyONj2AoYM_9SAwPTOk5sDkJXV8mW5sgLvE7mYN7if234yLOoxZgr1zTJb2Dr2xGaQ9lNg2AFMjx3hxbsXllwnhDiWkdHJndx0EkOSgFKu-LjR1Ko3TvETddeUcteLOBy33ygwq7369AU/s200/nettles%2Bpest%2Bbefore.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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The result was pesto-ish, mostly in the fact that it was green. Not unpleasant, but not good enough to try again. However, nettles are very good for you...so maybe next year. With pine-nuts and a pestle and mortar.</div>
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More successful was the fridge substitute for Skipper's dentistix - a carrot. My sister has used this root vegetable as a tooth cleaner for her dogs in the past and, although initially a little bemused at the changed face of his morning treat, Skipper tucked into the carrots quite happily.</div>
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So there you go... As the South Africans say:<i> n boer maak n plan</i> (a farmer makes a plan). There are always options out there - although maybe not nettle pesto!</div>
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Stay safe!</div>
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<br />mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-45373498083911300752020-04-10T01:05:00.001-07:002020-04-10T01:59:16.917-07:00Growing!There is a certain cruelty to the UK weather turning wonderful as we slip from our third week of Covid-19 lockdown into a period of indefinite confinement. I am among the fortunate who have outdoor space and I am counting my blessing as the weeks blur into each other. Not least because I have my garden and the unexpected lack of formal work has meant that I am able to devote more time to it than in previous years. So I have been growing!<br />
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I was partly prepared in that I bought seeds and compost before lockdown - which was fortunate for me as, if you've looked, you'll know that you currently can't find a growbag for love or money! But if you haven't bought seeds, all is not lost. One of the most exciting successes I have had this month is that I threw some butternut seeds (from the butternut we ate) into a pot and just about all of them have germinated! As a seasoned optimist, it wasn't the result I was expecting at all and my bemused family have been dragged, one by one, into the greenhouse, to observe these miraculous sproutings.<br />
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Before the miracle of the butternut, I have to admit to playing it safe. Leafy greens are easy (I can grow them - so I know). I have successfully grown some kale and rocket and have planted them out into my veggie patch. Kale, I believe, likes it best cool, so the success of this crop remains to be seen.<br />
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Spinach (another fool-proof crop) and beans are currently growing in what remains of my single growbag. Having proved a failure at staking anything successfully, I have gone for dwarf beans. These should be easy to manage and the ones I have grown before have yielded really well.<br />
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Otherwise, I have courgette growing (they are pretty hardy - so another one to go for if you are not very good at this cultivating lark) and cucumber too. I actually have managed to sprout some tomatoes, a crop I have found really difficult to seed in the UK. This was a bit of a shock as I always thought tomatoes were easy. When we lived in Messina, in the far North of South Africa, I would sow tomatoes straight into beds and they were great! But no such luck here where temperatures fluctuate and tomatoes are tetchy. Top advice for tomatoes: cheat! Buy well-established seedlings or get someone more green-fingered to get them going for you. My friend, Margaret supplied me with tomato seedlings last year and I had a bumper crop. More credit to Margaret than me - but the tomatoes were worth the lack of growing pride! Actually, another good tip from Margaret is to sow seeds in toilet roll inners. This means that there is minimal disturbance to the roots as you plant them out - a time where I frequently maul my seedlings to the point of no return. A couple of toilet rolls can be put in one pot. They are also quite easy to monitor, because you can see how wet the cardboard is.<br />
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Project wise, I am also attempting to grow a sweet potato. Having previously been told that Sweet potatoes won't grow in the UK, I stumbled across a you tube video that informed me that I could. So the sweet potato project is in progress. This video is below:<br />
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDc6R-nfwcM<br />
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The good news for those with small gardens is that, apparently, sweet potatoes will happily grow in a large tub ( a rubble tub will do) and that apparently they produce copious vines with very pretty flowers. All of this remains to be seen - as my potato is still sitting in water waiting to do - well - anything...<br />
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Although I have a garden, my space is limited and so I have tried to be creative with creating growing opportunities. One idea I have come up with is to convert 5-litre containers into hanging pots. This is an ecover washing liquid bottle, well-washed out and with the middle section cut out, leaving the handle as a hanging opportunity. I have two of these, sewn with rocket, and will give one to my flat-inhabiting daughter just as soon as lockdown is over.<br />
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I know that I am unbelievably fortunate to have a garden at this unusual time, but having something grow and flourish reaffirms the stubbornness of nature and life. However small your home, I hope that you also have the chance to watch something grow as the weather warms and we learn to deal with our new reality.<br />
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Stay safe, everyone!<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-74499066253825228012019-02-27T04:45:00.000-08:002019-02-27T04:45:11.532-08:00Going Green2018 was definitely the year when The People decided to take action against what is happening to our world. There was a whole-sale rebellion against plastic straws; single use plastic and palm oil were in the news, with all sorts of people vowing to stop, stop, stop... smell the roses, observe the deer at dawn and just appreciate what we have.<br />
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But the momentum seems to have slowed since then. Iceland (the supermarket, not the country), which bravely declared that it was going palm oil free in its products, has been slated by some of the press because products with palm oil are still found on its shelves. The CEO's argument that it was existing stock was seen as a sort of skulduggery in a press that can only be described as designed to discredit Iceland's efforts. Don't get me wrong, I understand completely that Iceland's move has an economic motivation as well as environmental, but it seems to me that we, as a society, are quite happy to shoot down any action that questions the status quo.<br />
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Take the recent children's environment protests. `What good can it do?' was a comment I most frequently heard. Well, surely the point is that people are taking action. Children are stepping up and effectively saying `not in my name'. Which is a good starting point, but we need to keep following through. As adults, we need to put our money where our mouths are and not blindly buy into products and movements which we know are going to harm us. Will we be able to magically change everything? No. But maybe we can change some things and gradually the change in thought will change the world. We know this - we have seen it before, throughout our history.<br />
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Any-way, my own efforts are predictably scrappy, but I do try to make conscious decisions about what I use and how `green' I am. I recycle with a psychotic zeal, regularly berating my family on throwing away items that are recyclable. (And yes, I can hear the nay-sayers saying that it all ends up in a dump any-way, but I have to TRY) and I conserve where I can in terms of resources and growing my own.(The latter with, admittedly, limited success).<br />
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Cleaning products are a bug-bear (don't get me started on bathroom products - those are a nightmare!) Despite the impressions I might give to my nearest and dearest, I do, in fact , appreciate a clean-ish house. My sister went through a phase where she only used vinegar and lemon juice to clean. A really good approach, but not suitable to all surfaces and the smell of vinegar doesn't appeal to everyone!<br />
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I have tried to winnow down the items I keep at home, the idea being that I have a clearer idea of what chemicals I am using and am retaining some sort of greenish control. Where possible, I try to use products that are touted as eco-friendly. In my kitchen and laundry, I use Ecover products. This Belgian company has a long list of environmental credentials and their dishwashing liquid comes in a bottle made from 100% recycled plastic - a big plus. I do, however, have an axe to grind with Ecover in terms of refills. You can buy most of their products in bulk and I have looked into buying their laundry detergent in bulk (secretly hoarding loads of detergent bottles to facilitate this) only to find that the unit cost of bulk buying is too close to the unit cost of smaller buying to make it worth while! In fact, I went to a `green' store in Bishops Stortford to refill my Ecover laundry liquid to find that I paid more for a refill than I would for a new bottle of detergent! How does that make any sense? Needless to say, Ecover, I think some work is necessary....<br />
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My hero product at the moment is Waitrose ECO-logical multi-purpose cleaner. I use it to clean everything, including the carpet that my old dog has the odd accident on. Really like this one!<br />
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But if we are to go really, really green, I have to mention olive oil (although I suppose any natural oil would do). After an unfortunate accident involving nail polish remover on our wooden table, I accidentally discovered what a great wood polish olive oil is. Applied liberally, left to sink in and then buffed a bit later to take off any residue - it is brilliant! And then I discovered that it works well on leather too. Our leather sofa is looking a little worse for wear with dogs, child and sun. A quick once-over with olive oil seems to do the trick and moisturise the leather. Very impressive!<br />
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None of which makes me a Martha Stewart dressed in flax - but I like to think that I making conscious decisions about the sort of world I live in and want to leave to my children.<br />
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I'd really like to hear your views and secret green hacks. We live in a wonderful world, lets keep working at it!<br />
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<br />mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-72449365670198610762019-02-06T01:39:00.001-08:002019-02-06T01:39:19.013-08:00It's gorgeous out there!I love where I live. Although not as deep in the countryside as I might dream of, my rural-ish existence means that I am surrounded by fields and trees and wake up to birdsong. (Ok - and some traffic noise...)<br />
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This morning, a mild and still morning following a night's rain, was the sort of morning I felt I could walk for ever. Of course, I couldn't, obligations and a old and cranky dog being the most pertinent reasons, but I felt I could. And I reflected on how very lucky we are in the UK to have such access to green space. You have to have lived elsewhere in the world to really appreciate a public footpath and an open playing field. How very, very lucky! There are many countries with far more space than our little island, but their land is almost universally privately owned and jealously fenced in. Our right to roam seems an essential part of our civil liberties and one that is incredibly dear to my heart.<br />
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Which is why fly-tipping and public littering make absolutely no sense to me. Of the first, why would someone EVER feel it was okay to drive along a beautiful country lane and dump their detritus? What on earth is going through their heads when they decide to spoil an area? Are they thinking `not in our backyard?' Well, I have news for the fly-tippers: it IS your back yard. Our rights of access make every little bit of this gorgeous country your back yard - and mine. And frankly, I am becoming a little pissed off at the regularity of fly-tipping down the lanes I walk. Not only does this habit create an eyesore and unnecessary cost for councils, but it shows an appalling lack of self-respect. Yup - that's what it boils down to: a complete lack of self-respect in that you are showing how little morality and responsibility you possess. And those that pay for dodgy clearances are just as much to blame. Legitimate waste collectors are listed on council websites. If they are not - contact your council. It's that easy. Don't think that your waste is going to be properly disposed of just because the man in the van said it would be. Insist on seeing records from the municipal waste sites. Take some responsibility! Because, of course, the bad news is that councils will sift through the fly-tipped waste and inevitably find some scrap that will bring them to your door - and you will be liable.<br />
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And as for those who throw their waste out of car windows...I would bet that the vast majority of those who chuck their McDonalds wrappers out of their vehicles tut-tut in sympathy when watching Blue Planet. As if plastic waste is something that comes from somewhere else. What on Earth do you think will happen to your Big Mac box or your Costa coffee cup when you fling it out so that your car stays clean? Do you really think it is going to biodegrade? Or do you just not care? Because it isn't on your home turf? Pathetic! When I was growing up in South Africa, we had a slogan that caught on with children. It was `litter-bug, litter-bug, shame on YOU!' And shame on you! This beautiful country, where we all own so much of the breathing space deserves a whole lot more respect. Take your litter home. It isn't rocket science.<br />
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I can't say it enough: this country is beautiful. And even though I am its adopted child, I love its lanes, its trees, its fields, its public paths, its vast public parks, its dips, twists, mud, grit and ancient resilience with every bit of me. And it is not just mine. It is ours. And because it is ours, we need to look after it. Every one of us.<br />
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Go out. Have a walk. Listen to the birds. Look for the signs of Spring in the snowdrops and black hawthorn and beginning buds. Remember how lucky you are.<br />
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<br />mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-46408280474055722202019-01-13T08:21:00.000-08:002019-01-13T08:21:21.408-08:00New Tree!The skies are still grey and we've hit that bit of Winter when nothing seems to change and the possibility of Spring seems about as remote as sprouting wings. I keep making `I'm going outside' noises, but the cold and damp have got the better of me. I am happy to walk the dogs, but then equally happy to consider how I might mow the lawn/weed the beds/ cut the hedges, from inside- and tomorrow.<br />
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I have, however, in a rare show of industry, replaced my dead cherry tree with a rowan tree (otherwise known as a mountain ash). Trees in gardens are not everyone's cup of tea. Grandad Whyman's great pronouncement on trees was that `Ah don' raat laak ah tree in me garrden'. (read strong Yorkshire accent) But then grandad Whyman had a postage stamp in a mining village and was far better at growing vegetables than I am. I rather like a tree in a garden. And I am now fortunate enough to have enough garden to have several trees.<br />
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Any-way, back to my lovely rowan tree. My Sorbus Commixta Embley. I have a couple of reasons for choosing this tree, despite the sceptical looks from my knowledgeable neighbour and some muttering about the mess it will make. Firstly, the flowers and berries are supposed to be very bee and bird friendly. Tick. It is rumoured to be well-behaved and generally hardy. Tick. And then there's the idea that it is a British tree that has long been mentioned in folklore - so it has brevity. Tick. And it wards off evil spirits....Yes. The last of these reasons might seem a little out there, but I live in the country(ish) now. With no street lights and across from some deep (ish), dark woods. On a dark night, when the wind is gusting and a fox is calling in the dark mass of trees just a field away from me, it is easy to think that something scary is about. And if a tree fixes it - well, I will say no more.<br />
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And I suspect that I am not alone. Out where I live there are numerous horse-shoes nailed to walls and above doors. Yes, it is horsey country, but there are an awful number of shoes on walls. Holly plants also seem to feature heavily and my own established hedges are holly-heavy. While I was looking for my replacement tree, I discovered that holly is a traditional hedge plant not only because it forms a good strong barrier, but apparently because it also keeps witches away. They cannot run across the top of holly hedges as they might on those of more accommodating plants.. Holly trees themselves are rumoured to be powerful magic. They ward off evil and, according to several websites, lightning. They also make good wands. But holly trees drop really prickly leaves and make walking outside in bare feet intolerable - so I settled on a Rowan tree.<br />
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Buying a tree in Winter is actually a good move. They are sold as bare rootstock and you essentially get more tree for your money. From what I understand, planting the tree while it is dormant also gives it a better chance of establishing itself before the growing season of Spring arrives. Or so the theory goes - watch this space! This is the second tree I have bought on the internet from primrose.co.uk. The trees arrived well-packaged, delivered via courier within a day or two of ordering. When I first moved in, I bought a flowering cherry and two blueberry bushes from Primrose. All have established well. So a sneaky little recommendation there.<br />
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So that was my early January project. I am now waiting for my rowan tree to grow and produce lots of lovely berries, which, according to the website treesforlife.org.uk I can make into a jelly or, dare I say it, a strong alcoholic drink. Hmmm. Roll on Spring!<br />
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<br />mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-67880442345692350862019-01-04T00:48:00.000-08:002019-01-04T00:48:40.581-08:002019 2019. And the grey dankness of December has given way to the grey dankness of January. There is, however, the consolation that the Winter solstice is now behind us and the days are becoming minutely longer with every passing 24 hours.<br />
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Which shines a little optimism into what is otherwise a very dull time of year. Actually, I lie. I like New Year. I like the sense of new beginnings and that feeling of optimism that this year might just be the one. And in many ways, 2019 IS my year.<br />
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It never fails to amaze me how quickly time tumbles on. We are swept along at such a rapid rate, that we have tumbled into a new year before we know it. But this year, I have grabbed at a metaphorical branch and hauled myself out of the torrent. I have given up my full time job and, while there are all sorts of ideas on the brew, at the moment, I am clinging to my branch and watching the water rush past. It is a bit weird.<br />
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In a good way.<br />
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I am able to be outside more. I can clump around the muddy fields with dogs in tow to my hearts content. I can clump around muddy woods with my smallish girl in tow until she gets bored. Which is what we did yesterday: meeting some new friends in Hatfield Forest where the children hauled branches, climbed trees and played hide and seek. They built dens, discovered sleeping wasps and uncovered a nursery of tiny woodlice. A reminder of how lucky we are to live in this country where open areas are so easily accessible.<br />
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We froze! And came home very hungry. Which leads neatly into my easy muffin with a twist recipe!<br />
It is no secret that I am not the most enthusiastic cook, but I do like a bit of baking, especially if it is easy and I don't have to weigh stuff. Baking is also a sort of bear-like hibernation tactic when it is cold outside... and keeps me from having to think about all the stuff I should be doing in the cold outside!<br />
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This is an adaptation of a very easy muffin recipe I found a while ago. My daughter isn't the greatest eater of breakfast and so I started making muffins on a regular basis to try to ensure she ate something before we got going in the mornings. I use oats and yoghurt instead of flour and butter to make them more `wholesome', but I add and take away as I feel the urge. I have a friend who makes muffins with grated courgette. All very healthy - but that would involve grating and I hate grating. I use cups to measure everything. I don't have scales and precision really isn't my thing. So all measurements are a `roughly'.<br />
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<u>Easy Muffins with a twist</u><br />
3 cups of oats<br />
1 1/2 tspns baking powder<br />
1/2 tsp salt (which I quite often forget)<br />
1/2 cup brown sugar (cut/leave out according to taste)<br />
1/2 cup natural yoghurt<br />
1 slightly beaten egg<br />
2 mashed bananas<br />
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And the twist is half a cup of ginger beer. But you can leave this out.<br />
Add whatever else you fancy/have in your cupboard.<br />
As a note, if you don't use bananas, the oat mixture doesn't bind very well. In this case, add 1 to 2 tablespoons of cornflour and maybe a little more baking powder (1/2 tspn)<br />
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Mix everything together. Spoon into a muffin tray and bake at 180 degrees for about 15 minutes. Easy!<br />
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Especially nice with Seville orange marmalade as made by my friend Margaret. But if you have no Margaret, any marmalade will do!<br />
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Health and happiness to all for 2019.<br />
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<br />mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1533409866338848638.post-65158892940654804372018-12-23T04:43:00.001-08:002018-12-23T05:51:42.339-08:00Christmas-ish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'll cut to the chase: I don't like Christmas. It is an in-joke with those who know me. At this time of year, I respond equally to my own name, Scrooge or Grinch and even my students have joked that Scrooge, that epitome of anti-Christmas cheer is my `pin-up boy'!<br />
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It's not the idea of Christmas - that's fine: peace, goodwill, generosity to our neighbour. All of these are good things which lie behind the religious and humanitarian reasons for this holiday.<br />
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But the reality of modern Christmas is that it is an ugly commercial animal, filled with ugly commercial objects and an ugly glut of food and waste. Every year I find myself succumbing to the pressures of too much food and too much stuff. All in a bid to make this `the best Christmas ever!'<br />
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And every year I emerge grumpier and more cynical about the whole process. I am deeply embarrassed by the waste we produce. Mortified by the overkill. Completely devoid of that famed Christmas Spirit.<br />
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And while this would all be perfectly fitting were I, like Scrooge, a grumpy old recluse, it is not the best attitude when there are children about. And I have some of those. My big girls are well inured to my grumping, but my youngest offspring is still trying manfully (woman-fully?) to summon up some Christmas cheer. So I have tried to remember what it is I have ever liked about Christmas.<br />
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Hmmmm. Growing up in South Africa, I liked to swim over the Christmas period. We typically had barbecues (or braais as they are called down South) and sometimes the Ledger famed prawn-parties. We, the children, would spend all day in the pool if allowed. But swimming and barbecues are not really an option in December in darkest Essex, so I have had to think further.<br />
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What makes Christmas good? My long-suffering better half says that it is the chance to get family together. To cook together. To enjoy each other's company.<br />
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So this will be a starting point in my efforts to de-Grinch Christmas. I will try to be nice. I will not moan (at least not incessantly) about wrapping paper, packaging and all the unnecessary calories. I will let people drink too much without being disapproving. I won't calculate the real world value of one day's worth of groceries (at least not so that anyone hears).<br />
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And I will try to re-engage the Christmas spirit by getting rid of some of the stuff that irks me and also by trying to include some more of the stuff that makes this a cheery time. <br />
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1.) I have chatted to family and asked that we limit presents to children (less pressure to buy and less chance of getting yet more obligatory gift sets). So far, so good.<br />
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2.)Baking. I'm not a whizz in the kitchen, but I like the odd bit of baking. We began making gingerbread cookies to hang on our tree when we lived in Mozambique. We have continued this as a new tradition and (if not all the dough is eaten) bake enough to decorate together and give some to our neighbours.<br />
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Today, in the lead-up to the Big Day, I decided to try my hand at making a milktart (Melktert in Afrikaans). It is sort of Christmassy, in an egg-noggy cinnamony way and it reminds me of being a child, so a bit atmospheric. Its a concrete attempt at cheerful...<br />
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The recipe comes from one of my granny's books `More South African Deep Freezing' by Alice Theron. Published in 1971 it is full of nuggets of wisdom such as `Fat pimply children grow up to be fat, sallow people' which is part of the introduction to her desserts section. It is also full of the sort of no-nonsense recipes one would expect from a 1970's domestic goddess. (She adds, further in her introduction to the desserts section: `I consider my own figure and it's up to them to look after theirs'.)<br />
The milktart recipe goes as follows (credit to More South African Deep Freezing; Alice Theron; Howard Timmins; 1971)<br />
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You will need to have a ready baked pie crust. I am rubbish at pastry, so won't offer advice here. Essentially: flour, butter, sugar and a bit of salt.<br />
For the filling you will need (makes one pie)<br />
2 eggs<br />
2 tablespoons cornflour<br />
2 tablespoons flour<br />
1/4 cup of milk<br />
1 3/4 cups milk (the reason for this separation will become clear)<br />
1/2 cup sugar<br />
pinch of salt<br />
several drops of vanilla<br />
15 grams butter<br />
Cinnamon for dusting<br />
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Method:<br />
Beat the eggs. Add flour and cornflour and mix well until all the lumps are gone. Add 1/4 cup milk. Mix well. Put aside.<br />
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In a pot, heat the 1 3/4 cups of milk with the sugar and salt. Bring to the boil while stirring.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GQFFjjiobzw/XB9_jjv1kII/AAAAAAAAAZA/s_8bq0zN-vQ7C6hHoLNA605xtowEGzIswCLcBGAs/s1600/20181223_113148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GQFFjjiobzw/XB9_jjv1kII/AAAAAAAAAZA/s_8bq0zN-vQ7C6hHoLNA605xtowEGzIswCLcBGAs/s320/20181223_113148.jpg" width="320" /></a>Remove from the heat and stir in the egg mixture. Place back on the heat, while stirring. Reduce heat and keep stirring. This is the scary bit, since it gets quite lumpy. KEEP STIRRING. Remove from the heat and keep stirring until the mixture becomes a smooth custardy mix (my words - not Alice's!)<br />
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Add the butter and the vanilla. Stir rapidly.<br />
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Allow to cool a bit, then pour into the pie crust. Dust with cinnamon.<br />
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Bake in a hot oven for about 10 minutes.<br />
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Tarrrrraaa!<br />
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Mine looks a little sallow, but the consistency in right - and it tastes very good!<br />
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3.) Wrapping paper. I have been going on about this for years! This year, I have dumped traditional wrapping paper. I have bought brown paper and cloth ribbon. While I don't know the environmental credentials of ribbon I reckon it is reusable, so far better than much of the wrapping from previous years. And, I must admit, I have quite enjoyed wrapping presents and I think they look quite delightful!<br />
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4.) Supermarkets. I have avoided these. These are like highways to hell (apologies Meatloaf) at this time of year. I have shopped my main groceries online, have used my local dairy delivery service and have tried to find produce at farm shops and markets. In fact, just today, I have discovered Pearce's Farm Shop (http://pearcesfarmshop.com/) a bit of a trek from me - but far more fun than a Tesco crush.<br />
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So far, so good - I'm beginning to think I will manage cheerful.<br />
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My tactic for the actual day is to hand it all over to my family, who understand my foibles and, I hope, love me all the same. If it all becomes too much, I intend to go for a very long walk.<br />
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Wishing everyone, Grinch and Consumer-god/dess alike, happiness and love, not only over the next few days, but into the New Year too!<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3alOVelVsKo/XB-AkB8MO6I/AAAAAAAAAZc/UFartgOpMFUEJuHXF3hpjjuvn_lpEMS4QCLcBGAs/s1600/20181222_082157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />mandyMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09280217071119521556noreply@blogger.com0