The Beginning of Hope

Yellow daffodil

And then, as if by magic, the sun came out. It suddenly seems unbelievable that I was fearing winter would never end but a week ago. Even though there is still a chill in the air, the sunshine has a touch of warmth in it and I can feel my whole being responding to it, turning my face to it with appreciation in much the same way as the primroses which have bravely survived the past few cold and bleak months to bring us a touch of colour and comfort. Day by day, the mornings are getting lighter and dusk is arriving a precious few minutes later. Even the overnight rain is welcome – the lawn is greening up already and the water butts are full, waiting to come into their own in the spring and early summer.

Garden with shafts of sunshine beaming down on to the green lawn
Totally the wrong light to capture the garden but shows up those shafts of sunshine beautifully!

The cats are still wary of the great outdoors. “Are you sure that cold, wet, white stuff has gone?” they ask as I open the door. They sniff the air anxiously, assessing what to expect when they finally take the first cautious step across the threshold. Once they are outside, though, it has been noticeable over the past few days that they are staying out a little longer. The Calamity Cat particularly enjoyed the sunshine as much as I did, lying out on the patio table to fully absorb as much heat as she could. Once the sun went in, though, she was soon back in her usual place snuggled by the radiator.

Inevitably as our thoughts turn to spring, they also turn to the garden. Bulbs are starting to appear and our first snowdrops are in bud. I am delighted to see them, partly because I love their delicate beauty and message of hope, but also because I divided them and moved some from front to back last year and I was worried that they would suffer as a result of my inexperience. The rhubarb is starting to peep above the earth already and there is new growth on the roses and on the lilac gifted to us last year by friends. Yet again, nature has shown me that there is much to look forward to, however long the winter feels. There is a feeling of anticipation, of the excitement of new life being just around the corner.

Emboldened by what the garden was telling me, I spent an hour in the greenhouse at the weekend, potting on the seedlings which have been overwintering there, grown from seeds I gathered at the end of last summer. Foxgloves, poppies and sweet peas are jostling for space, rubbing shoulders with the onions, garlic and strawberry plants we also have in there waiting to be planted out in warmer times. I have discovered potting seedlings is incredibly satisfying – totally absorbing, suppressing the mental chatter which still takes over from time to time.

Seedlings growing in a greenhouse
So the next question is, where are all these seedlings going to get planted??

Indoors, the planning for the coming season continues. The flower garden has been measured and we have agreed to start our changes with the area known to us as the Frog Patch, as it is where Calamity kept finding frogs during our first summer here. It is actually a large raised bed, bordered by a curved dry stone wall and containing lots of geranium ground cover as well as the buddleia and a rather attractive hebe. We aren’t neglecting the kitchen garden, though – we have gathered together our seed packets and, mindful of the need to rotate our crops, we are making plans for our beds. We still have leeks, sprouts, garlic and even a few carrots in the ground, which should see us through to spring, when we can start afresh with a new season.

I can’t wait to get started.


Hello 2018!

Ceramic tealight holder with meadow design

And so Christmas is over for another year. The presents have been opened, appreciated and in many cases used already, such as the beautiful candle holder in the headline picture above. The dinner was cooked and eaten, TV watched and family visited. Finally, this week, we took down the tree and put everything away for next time. It was good to get the house back to normal, clean and tidy ready for whatever 2018 may bring.

The garden, too, is in need of a spring clean. We pulled up a lot of veg for our Christmas dinner – carrots, leeks, the last potatoes, parsnips and sprouts – so there are a few empty beds to clear and make ready for the new season. The sweet peas, foxgloves and poppies which have germinated in the greenhouse from seeds I collected last year need thinning and potting on and there appears to be a large amount of pruning to be done. One of D’s gifts this year was a good quality pair of secateurs and matching knife, so he has been out cutting down the roses and tidying a few climbers which were making a bid for freedom via the guttering on next door’s shed. After last year’s attempt at pruning the apple tree, though, we may leave that to the professionals this year.

I had planned to cut back the herbs, too, but the smaller birds appear to be loving the seeds on the lemon balm, so I have left them alone to be enjoyed. Fortunately, the cats don’t seem to have noticed the sparrows and the brightly coloured goldfinches so far. The Pampas flowers are already being stripped for nesting material too and, as usual, we are sharing our home with some variety of feathered friends, who are living in the eaves. I have also left the hydrangea flowerheads intact and their intricate structure has brought me much pleasure through summer and winter alike.

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We haven’t had much snow here, much to our relief, but both the cats did go and play in it for a while when it was here. The Calamity Cat particularly enjoyed it, leaving a trail of paw prints in the previously untouched snowfall and pouncing on imaginary prey which was hiding in the strange white stuff. Once she had had enough though, she returned to us complaining vigorously that her paws were cold and her underside wet. It was fun for a time but could we make the nasty white stuff disappear now please?

Beyond the tidying and nurturing the start of this year’s plants, we are starting to plan for the coming season. We are going to concentrate on the flower garden this year. It’s a mature garden and we don’t want to lose the structure that we have but we want to put our own stamp on it in the same way as we have the kitchen garden and the house itself. More colour, more scope to experiment and play and more variety is our aim – it will be fun to see where we can take it as the year progresses and I hope you will stay with us for the journey!

Sketch pad with pencil plan of a garden
Rough plan of the current structure of the flower garden
Pencil detail of plan of garden
Detail of one area of the current layout


2017 – a year in review

Naive pottery nativity 3 piece tealight set

After my reminder last week of how precious our life here is, I thought that this, my final post for 2017, would be a good time to think back over the year and take a moment to really appreciate everything that has happened, good and bad, before we embrace whatever 2018 may have in store for us.

It was certainly a busy year. In the garden, we had all sorts of visitors, from bees to birds to frogs and even, so we are told, a rat or two. I admired its winter beauty, although preferably through a window in front of a warm fire, and embraced the spring once it arrived.

We developed our roofing skills on the woodstore, enlarged the vegetable patch and had a go at pruning the apple tree in the orchard. As well as a new shed, we bought a proper greenhouse. We sowed and planted – asparagus, sweetcorn and parsnips joined our more usual crop of potatoes, carrots and leeks. I made plum jam and roasted tomato sauce and many of the veg on our Christmas table next week will be home-grown. I got my gooseberry bush (although it hasn’t thrived so far – I am keeping my fingers crossed for next year) and planted a blueberry and strawberries too.

In the flower garden, we planted a rose bed and created a trellis for tomatoes. We pruned the hydrangea and the buddleia and, in spite of their age and my fears, they both responded well. Even the Pampas grass survived D’s enthusiastic trim.

The cats have also had a good year on the whole. When they weren’t sunning themselves on the new woodshed roof or supervising us in the garden, they were exploring cupboards and making a bid to eat all the food we bought in for them in the shortest possible time. The Princess has fortunately recovered fully from her suspected poisoning although sadly, it didn’t stop her from hunting for the rest of the summer.

We did the things that most couples do through a year. We holidayed, partied with family and embarked on home improvements in the form of a new boiler and bathroom refurb. We mourned with the nation after the terrible attacks which have occurred throughout the year. We faced my stress and anxiety together and together we are making our plans for the year to come.

Most of all, we are feeling blessed, to be here, to have each other and to be looking forward to a cosy Christmas, just the four of us. I will leave you with a few photographic memories of 2017 but first, let me wish you all a very happy, safe and special Christmas, full of whatever Christmas means to you. I’ll see you all again in the New Year.

Watch out for Maleficent!

Vivid pink hydrangea flowers amongst yellow green leaves

Last week, we became aware of the change of the seasons, with the first frost making its appearance. The leaves are really starting to change now – the beech hedge in the flower garden forms a multi-coloured backdrop to the roses, which are bravely clinging on as long as they can.

We took advantage of some mild weather and some autumn sunshine over the weekend to do some much-needed tidying up. D started with the tall evergreen hedge which separates us from next door. Getting out the old hedge trimmers, he made a start. It is not a job he enjoys – it is time consuming, the trimmers are heavy and the results are never as good as he would like. Clearing up afterwards is hard work, too, raking and shovelling leaves and branches from the lawn, just praying it will all fit into the brown garden waste bin.

Man on a ladder trimming an evergreen hedge
D gets stuck in with the old hedge trimmers

This time, disaster struck, Before he got very far, there was a smell of burning and black smoke started to belch from the trimmers. The thick hedge had finally broken them. Cursing, we made an emergency dash to Screwfix for a new set of trimmers. Well, it made a change from B&Q, I suppose.

Regular readers may remember that garden power tools are not my field. The summer D spent cutting my grass in Scotland using a mower with no blades in it was a case in point. As the hedge trimmers were even older than that mower, it should have been no surprise that replacing them was one of our better decisions. We got back in time to finish the hedge, which D did in record time. The new tool is lighter, sharper and far more effective than the old one. In what felt like a few minutes, we had a neat hedge which looked better than it ever had before and D was finally happy with the result.

In the meantime, I had weeded and tidied, dead-headed and dug to remove remains of summer annuals from the rose and hydrangea beds. All that remains to do in the flower garden is to tame the herbs (again!) and clear the bed near the Pampas grass, which regularly becomes overrun with an insidious, mat-forming and foul-smelling weed. We have no idea what it is, just that it is impossible to get rid of. We decided to save all that for another day, though.

Buoyed up by the success of his new toy – sorry, power tool – D was keen to carry on the next day, turning his attentions to our much-neglected front garden. It is intended to be a low-maintenance space, but it is amazing even here how quickly nature reclaims its own. The privet hedge creeps higher and fuller every year, almost without us noticing, while the ivy spreads its tendrils, taking a firmer hold of the hedge and spreading outwards across the gravel towards the house. The holly which grows through the yellow forsythia (itself reaching ever higher towards the sky) becomes denser and spikier and guests climbing out of their cars on the drive find a treacherous welcome as the decorative grass trips them up, intending it seems to lure them into the arms of yet another holly. This one is ludicrously shaped into an overgrown lollipop and appears as innocuous as the Ghostbusters Marshmallow Man, while being just as dangerous. And everywhere, curling its stems through everything it can, there is bindweed.

Large variegated grass
The grass is just the beginning of the battle to reach the front door

In short, without us realising, we were slowly being enveloped by foliage worthy of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Unfortunately, though, I hadn’t slept as well as her the night before, so I was not in the mood to face it. D, ever-sensible, talked me round. “Half an hour,” he promised. “Just to get the hedge cut, that’s all it really needs.” Longing for a bath and a nap, I reluctantly agreed.

It is remarkable how gardening restores a tired body and a lethargic spirit, recharging batteries better than any nap could. Two hours later (so much for D’s half an hour!) we had tamed the wilderness, at least a little. The hedge was cut, the bushes trimmed to an even height and the ivy thinned. There wasn’t much we could do with the grass – it desperately needs moving further away from the drive but it is so huge, we wouldn’t know where to start (and even we know that November is not the month to try). I was determined, however, to reduce the lollipop holly to a more manageable size. I certainly did that, but I think we can safely say that topiary is not my strong point.

Standard holly tree pruned into a lollipop shape
Hmm, don’t think I’ll be winning any topiary prizes but at least I can get out of the car!

There is still a long way to go to make the front garden into a space we will be proud of. Nettles are still threatening the plants we bought earlier in the year and the bed near the front door is still terribly untidy and eye-catching for all the wrong reasons. However, the space feels twice the size that it did and, for now at least, we can go bed without fear of waking up in a hundred years, with the house totally smothered in forest.


Garden Round-Up

Pink rose

While we have been caught up in our heating drama, autumn has crept up on us outside and suddenly we are into November. We haven’t forgotten the garden though – it hasn’t let us.

Up in the kitchen garden, the sweetcorn was our shock success this year. Last time I mentioned them, they were wearing silly wigs and the corn was just starting to form. We watched carefully over the next few weeks, unsure how we would know when they were ripe. As time went on, it became a race against time – would they be ready before the warmth and sunshine disappeared? As we weren’t sure and we didn’t want to lose the crop, we harvested it in early October. It wasn’t all quite ripe to the ends but what was ready was absolutely delicious. We are converts and will definitely be growing it again.

Corn on the cob
We are so proud of our sweetcorn crop

We also left the cauliflowers with their brand new heads starting to peep through. We have definitely had more success with them this year. Last year we sowed them too late and had nothing to show for it. But we now have several caulis safely chopped and frozen, ready for the traditional Christmas cauliflower cheese. Cleaning them was a nightmare though – the dirt gets into the tiniest cracks and we had to cut them into quite small florettes in order to get them fully clean. It made us wonder about the beautifully white cauliflowers we buy from the supermarket. Where are they grown to be so white and pristine and are they cleaned with a Karcher?

2 cauliflowers in close up
Hooray! Proper cauliflowers!

The first frost took us by surprise, although luckily we had already harvested everything which would have succumbed to the cold. We are told that parsnips need a frost before harvesting so we are happy to leave them where they are for now – Christmas dinner is going to be truly great this year! We still have some carrots and plenty of leeks as well. It seems a long time since we had to buy vegetables from the supermarket – and we are loving it.

One thing we may need to buy at Christmas though is potatoes. As you may remember, after the success of our early and mid-season crops, we got a bit over-enthusiastic with late potatoes in bags. “Plant now for Christmas!” proclaimed the packaging. Hmmm, and then again … They flourished in the greenhouse, growing far too quickly and then, when we needed to move the bags outside to catch the rain while we were away, they were hit by high winds and suffered as a result. We harvested the last bag last week and, although what potatoes we got were tasty, they didn’t match the earlier harvests. Next year, we need to try planting a little later and either growing them totally outside or start them outdoors and then bring them in later. Still, it’s all a learning experience!

Dead potato plants in a green plastic growing bag
Our poor potatoes

Another thing we are learning is that the planning and planting never stops. We planted several rows of garlic recently and they are springing up already, ready for us to harvest next year. In the flower garden, the patio pots are full of Sweet Williams and winter primroses, with spring bulbs nestled safely underneath, waiting for the worst of the winter to pass. And the seeds I collected at the end of the summer – poppies, foxgloves and sweet peas mainly – have germinated in the greenhouse and are waiting to be pricked out and turned into plugs. They will stay cosy in the greenhouse through the winter and then be planted out next spring. Well, that’s the plan anyway!

Patio pots containing autumn and winter flowers
Our pots are ready to provide a little winter colour

Also in the flower garden, the roses have been an unexpected delight. They flowered through the summer but have had a new lease of life over the past few weeks, even surviving the frost and providing a much-needed burst of colour as the rest of the garden settles into its pre-winter rest. And, best of all, the Pampas grass has survived its haircut and has flowered to bring us pleasure throughout the winter to come.

We are all too aware that we are fair weather gardeners, that the time is rapidly approaching where gardening becomes a quick dash to the greenhouse or planning and dreaming in front of the fire. For now, though, we may have a couple more weeks to enjoy getting out there and to have an autumn tidy up and we intend to make the most of any sunny autumn days we have left.





How many potatoes can 2 people eat, anyway?

A couple of weeks ago, I promised a veggie tale, following on from the success of our fruit this year. What a productive summer it has been and what a bountiful autumn is promised! While the fruit keeps on coming (our freezer is full of apples, plums and rhubarb to see us through the winter, plus we get the occasional strawberry treat), the veg haven’t disappointed us either.

We started our potato harvest pretty early, with first and second earlies sprouting in the greenhouse from late spring. This was closely followed by more earlies in one of the beds and then the main crop Maris Pipers and Desires, which have been prolific and are now safely stored in hessian sacks in the cool of the pantry to keep us in potatoes for several months to come. Some of the Desires were particularly fun, we thought – like little characters all of their own!

Red Desire potatoes in a basket
The one on the right looks like it’s about to get up and walk …

Not for us the usual 4 bed crop rotation advocated for very sensible reasons by experienced gardeners such as Kettle Acres. One potato bed just wasn’t enough. The one we used for the earlies is now stocked with sprouts and cauliflowers which are bravely resisting the onslaught of the dreaded cabbage white butterflies and, having dug up the last of the main crop last week, D has been busy filling the space with leeks, onions and a couple more caulis which – hooray! are starting to show little white heads peeping through the green.

So you might be forgiven for thinking that we would be proud of our success with the humble tatty and calling it a day for this year. However, you would be wrong. Way back in the early summer, our thoughts turned to our Christmas table. We had tried to buy late crop seed potatoes last year and been unable to find any in our usual garden centre. However, this year we had more success and we may have gone a little mad, planting 5 bags in the greenhouse. Not as mad as they have though! We did plant them a little earlier than we had planned, as they had started to chit all by themselves and, in early September, they are starting to flower already. The chances of them getting to anywhere near Christmas are slim unless we store them very carefully.

5 green sacks containing growing potato plants
Our Christmas potatoes, out of the greenhouse for now. Maybe that will slow them down a bit?

It’s not all about potatoes! Last year, in our first attempt to grow carrots, they averaged about 2 inches in length and were mostly as fat as they were short. Some were almost square. The hard work digging the new beds this year appears to have been successful, and some of our carrots have been a little more traditional in length and shape. Not all though – one looked suspiciously like a demented octopus and we were breaking off tentacles for dinner all week.

The garlic has been disappointing in one way – it looks very limp, not very well-grown and definitely in the green. When we pulled one up, to see if it had grown at all, there was a single spring onion-sized clove, rather than a bulb, hiding under the soil. Once I cooked it, though, I stopped being disappointed very quickly. I have never tasted such sweet, delicious garlic. I used it in a tomato pasta sauce, made with entirely home-grown ingredients, and, once peeled, it mashed effortlessly into a paste to flavour the sauce. Our onions have been very similar – much smaller than those you buy, but sweet and mild, perfect for eating raw in a salad or on a sandwich.

And there is so much yet to come. The corn on the cob, which we bought on a whim and which has been a revelation to us. Who knew that it would sprout ears just like any other corn, but that the cob actually grows much further down the stalk after forming a hairy wig worthy of Donald Trump himself? The parsnips, also grown with Christmas in mind. We have discovered you need patience for parsnips, sown in April and to be pulled once the weather turns colder. Not as much patience as you need for asparagus though. For its first year, it has grown well and, following everything we have read, we have resisted the urge to harvest a single spear, allowing them to flower and then die back. Apparently, we can eat a couple of spears next year and then a few more the year after – they are definitely a commitment.

Corn on the cob forming on the plant
Sweetcorn wigs

We have leeks in the beds, peppers in the greenhouse and tomatoes pretty much everywhere. D’s succession planting has kept the beds full and things moving and we are proud of what we have achieved in this, the second year of our New Simple Life.


Garden visitors

Peacock butterfly on flowering mint

At the weekend, I experienced one of those perfect moments, a timely reminder of how lucky we are to enjoy our new simple life. It was early morning, still very quiet and the sun was shining. I sat outside, eating toast with home-made plum jam, sipping on fresh coffee and sharing the patio table with the Calamity Cat, who was stretched out sunbathing. It was a moment to breathe, to feel fully in the moment, and I was making the most of it. Slowly, I became aware of a background noise – not the usual distant rumble of the A59, but a constant buzzing around ground level. The herb garden is next to the patio, so that we can collect the herbs easily and so that we can enjoy the scents that surround us as we brush past it – mint, lemon, rosemary and even the occasional whiff of Indian food from the curry plant. I have said before that the herb garden is a cut-throat world and it is again getting out of hand. The mints, always the chief culprits in their bid to take over the whole patch, are in flower and, along with the oregano, are trailing over the edge of the path. I have been planning to cut it all back to regain control but, as I realised on that beautiful Saturday morning, the pruning will have to wait. The bees, the butterflies and a variety of other pollinating insects are all absolutely loving it. And I love to hear the buzz as these creatures go about their business. There were literally dozens of them that morning and, every time I go out to gather some herbs for dinner, I disturb a cloud of flying visitors. Along with our revitalised buddleia and the petunias in our pallet planter, we are definitely doing our bit for pollinators. Even more exciting, we have several holes in our bug house up in the orchard plugged with leaves, which is usually a sign of solitary bees nesting within.

Bee on a mint flower
Just one of the many bees to be found on our chocolate mint
Wooden bug house with 4 holes plugged with leaves
Hopefully this is more bees nesting in the bug house on the plum tree

We have a range of other visitors. We rescue the odd frog from the garage (goodness knows how they end up in there but I have a feeling they too hang out in the shelter of the nearby herb garden, probably snacking on my insects) and one has happily taken up residence in our veg patch, helping to control the slugs and other creatures all too happy to dine on our hard work. I’m not sure who is the more shocked when we disturb it when we are watering – it leaps out of the potato plants and watches us from the edge of the raised bed until we have finished. The slugs and snails are far less in evidence than they were last year – hopefully the nematodes we apply every six weeks, along with the frogs, are keeping them at bay. I did find a snail in the petunias the other day, half way up the house wall – it was clearly going for a snail mountaineering award. It reminded me of my first holiday abroad as a child, when one of my sisters plucked snails from a wall and then frantically tried to stick them back on again because she thought she would get into trouble for playing with them. In this instance, I relocated the adventurer to the hedge, where it could do less damage.

Frog sitting on a potato leaf
Our new friend in the potato patch

The sparrows, fledged in the hedges this year in spite of the cats’ best efforts to reduce their numbers, are all grown up now and moving on, as are the starlings who nested in our eaves. The pigeons are as prevalent as ever, either roosting in the apple tree or feeding on our newly-planted onions (D has our veg on a very efficient conveyor belt and, as fast as we eat one planting, more are starting life in the greenhouse or being planted out to keep up us going later in the year). We often see the swallows swirling around in the sky above as we spend our evenings with a glass of wine in front of the chiminea and there was even an evening where I was buzzed by a bat as I went looking for the Calamity Cat.

The cats are spending long hours outside as if they know that very soon, the evenings will be drawing in, the weather will grow colder and they will be coming in earlier, so they need to take advantage now while they can. Calamity, usually the more home-loving of the two, is particularly reluctant to come in and sits under the hedge, just out of reach, steadfastly ignoring our pleas. She will sit there for most of the evening, lulling us into a false sense of security and then vanishing just as the time is growing late and we want her to return home. She is usually tempted out from wherever she is hiding – never far – by Dreamies, but she is becoming very skilled at taking them and the retreating at speed before we can catch her. The Princess is oddly far happier to come home, usually asking to come in around 7pm for a snack, before she quietly puts herself to bed upstairs.

It was with mixed feelings yesterday that we saw our first robin of the season, heralding the autumn and winter to come. It won’t be long before we will be lighting the fire again and snuggling down in front of it as we feel the summer slowly drawing to a close.


A fruitful harvest

2 bowls of Victoria plums and a basket of apples

August has brought us a bounty like we could not have imagined. All our hard work in the garden earlier in the year is now starting to pay off and the kitchen is full of the fruits of our labour – quite literally.

It felt for a while like the tomatoes were never going to ripen. We faithfully checked them daily, convinced that the wet summer was to blame for the fact that they stayed resolutely green. Even my sister, on a visit one day, went up to have a look at them. The Calamity Cat went with her and they had quite a chat about it, apparently. Calamity assured her that tomatoes were overrated anyway – she wasn’t keen, apart from when they were used to make a sauce for beef pouches of Felix.

Then, suddenly, we started to spot patches of red on the plants. We now have a wide variety of shapes and sizes – big ridged beef ones, round salad ones, oval plum tomatoes and small, extra sweet cherry tomatoes that I love to eat straight from the vine like the fruit they are. I have plans to make my own passata at some point – I’m just waiting for some new jars to arrive from Amazon.

2 clear plastic containers holding large and small tomatoes and several strawberries
A range of our tomatoes – and a few strawberries too

I have used all the jars we had in the pantry already, making jam. The fruit trees in the orchard have gone crazy this year. Although it is still relatively early, both the cooking and eating apple trees are covered in apples and we are picking up and using windfalls daily. Last year, I tried storing the cookers, wrapping them in paper and storing them in the summer house. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a success. All the apples either went mouldy or turned into dried up husks. This may have been because I totally forgot about them and didn’t try to use them until a few weeks ago or it may be because I just didn’t store them in the right place, who knows. What I did know was that, this year, I needed a different strategy.

I duly Googled “freezing apples”. Last year, I cooked and froze a lot of apple sauce and, while that was useful, there is only so much apple sauce you can eat, even in our favourite apple crumble. So, this year, I resolved to freeze the apples raw to maximise their use. It took us quite a while to peel, core and slice them, before dunking them in lemon juice and laying them out on baking trays to pop them into the freezer. The results were pretty good and I am hoping they will keep us well fed throughout the winter. The only problem is that, a week later, we have just as many sitting in the basket, waiting patiently for us to do something useful with them.

Sliced apples in rows on greaseproof paper
Ready for the freezer

So, my next plan was jam. Last year, I was disappointed that we had no plums on the tree, as I love them. It has certainly made up for it this year, though. We picked around 2kg, made the essential plum and apple crumble with a few and then I got adventurous with the rest.

I have made plum jam before, many years ago now, with plums given to me by a friend and it was fairly successful. I decided this time to make plum and apple (I didn’t want the apples feeling left out, after all). The recipe said to boil the fruit and sugar vigorously for twenty minutes. After an hour, where the jam stubbornly refused to set, I was tearing out my (by then very sticky) hair. The whole kitchen was sticky, for that matter, not just me and my hair. In the middle of it all, Calamity decided it might be fun to bring a live mouse into the house, and we had to spend some time trapping it in a bucket and returning it to the relative safety of the hedge at the back of the garden. It was a cute little thing, looking more curious about its adventure than anything, but it did distract me for a while.

Calamity clearly knew the best way to encourage jam to set – to walk away from it. On my return to the kitchen, I discovered that it was definitely looking better. More in hope and optimism than confidence, I switched it off and we started to spoon it into jars that we had sterilised in a very hot dishwasher.

Plums and apples cooking in a large pan
Is it ever going to set?

Several burned fingers later and with the kitchen even stickier than before, we had jam! We were a bit nervous when we opened a jar at breakfast the next day, I admit, but it was very tasty. Perhaps a little runnier than shop-bought, and definitely not as sweet but all the better for it. And it had used up all our plums – hadn’t it? Hmm, a week later and we had to go back up the ladder to pick more. I think we have even more this time so all plum recipes gratefully received!

5 jars of home made jam, with green and white labels
Hooray! We have jam!!

Along with the fruit trees, the rhubarb keeps on giving and we are rescuing at least a few strawberries from predators (in spite of the netting, they are still being eaten by something), so we have enough fruit to keep us going for a while. The only disappointments have been the blueberry which is a stunningly beautiful bush but any fruit has been swiftly found by the birds, and my much-loved and wanted gooseberry bush. Not only have we had no gooseberries, the entire bush looks like it is being systematically eaten by some sort of insects. I suspect we may need to replace and re-site it at some point.

And then there is the veg. But that’s a different story …


The Kitchen Garden

Last week, I focused on the flower garden and how it had flourished while we were away. But what about the other side of the pretty cream-painted wooden gate, I hear you ask. What about the kitchen garden?

It’s probably fair to say results are mixed. We had moved the seedling carrots, leeks and sprouts from the greenhouse to the kitchen for the catsitter to water, along with the larger cauliflowers that we had also grown from seed but not yet planted out. So they were fine, until we got back at least. The day after we returned, we put them back in the greenhouse, unaware of just how hot the day was going to be and, unfortunately, it was more than our newly-germinated sprouts could take. The next day, we found them shrivelled to nothing in their tray, in spite of the automatic roof vents. Another lesson learned – the greenhouse can get too hot!

All the potatoes were doing well and we actually harvested the two bags that we had started off in the greenhouse before moving them outside a month or so ago. The first bag was disappointing, I have to say – the crop was tasty but only lasted us a scant two meals. The second bag was a better haul though. There is nothing quite to beat the excitement of pulling up the stems and seeing what lies beneath, burrowing into the earth and finding the treasure that is a potato you have grown yourself. The miracle of nature and its cycle continues to make me marvel – the fact that the discarded plant goes into the compost bin to help grow the harvests of the future brings me so much pride and pleasure. We also pulled our first few carrots, also from greenhouse bags. Although they are bigger than those we grew last year, they were still a bit curly. We have been told they grow well (and straight) in sand, so we might try that next year.

Grey and white cat looking at a basket of potatoes sitting on a lawn
“Is that it?”
3 home-grown curly carrots sitting on a wooden chopping board
Definitely looking more carrot-like this year

The other veg are coming on slowly. We made a classic mistake back in early Spring when, excited by our work replacing the raised beds, we planted lots of things out too early and the frost hit them. Nothing actually died, but everything stopped growing and most of it is only just recovering now. The sweetcorn, planted slightly later, is doing better but has suffered from attention by, we think, the fat and well-fed pigeons who hang out in the apple tree and laugh at the cats. Still, we have some garlic coming up slowly, as well as leeks, onions, carrots and some parsnips that we sowed straight into the ground and that we are hoping will be ready for our Christmas table. The salad that had done so well over the winter is much less happy in this more clement weather, unfortunately, and has bolted. While the flowers are pretty, as far as salad goes, we will be relying on the various tomato plants we have around, which appear to be doing well.

In fact, most of our fruit is thriving. In the orchard, the cooking apple tree is already groaning under the weight of the coming fruit and we are back to picking up small unripe windfalls daily. The eating apple appears to be doing better this year as well and to my joy, the plum is also promising to bear lots of fruit after a barren year last year. The rhubarb loves its new home too, in spite of the apples landing in its bed each day. I can feel a jam-making session or two coming on over the next few months. As the new gooseberry is still settling in, we definitely won’t be seeing any gooseberries this year, probably to D’s relief, as he doesn’t like them but the blueberry is starting to show signs of fruit and is the most beautiful colour when you look closely.

We are getting a few strawberries too although, just like my childhood recollections, it was a toss-up whether we got there before the birds. In the end, D created a fruit cage out of spare wood from the garage, some netting, a couple of bamboo canes and a lot of ingenuity. One of the canes has weighted the netting so that it will sit in place, but it can be lifted back when we come to pick the strawberries. It makes the harvesting less of an adventure in a way, but at least we are getting some of them. The birds get up earlier than we do, so they were definitely winning the race!

Fruit cage covering strawberry plants in a small raised bed
Another example of D’s practical and creative abilities

And, speaking of birds, they are also thriving. There is a blackbird family next door and young birds of all descriptions everywhere you look. It is lovely to watch them but it is always with a little trepidation, in case one of the cats gets too close. The Princess, particularly, is hunting again when she can, although both the neighbour and I are determined to protect the blackbirds. We hear him banging on the window regularly to chase her off and we are constantly bringing her inside when we hear the shrill alarm call of the parent birds. We have found a few frogs as well, including one who had made it into the garage and resisted all attempts for us to rescue it for some time. Eventually D got it into a bucket and we decanted it into the aptly-nicknamed Frog Patch area of the garden, where they usually shelter in the undergrowth, enjoying the damper conditions caused by the drystone wall.

Hopefully, we are now entering the stage where the kitchen garden will be little work beyond watering, pulling up the odd weed and harvesting, while the flower and front gardens seem to require more input daily to keep on top of the weeds and the deadheading. We need to remind ourselves sometimes that a garden is also for sitting in, for meditating, reading, chatting and enjoying. The cats try to tell us – now all we need to do is listen.

Grey and white cat lying in a greenhouse
“See, this is what a greenhouse is for – sunbathing”

The Flower Garden

2 flowering red poppies with purple and yellow centres

Life is settling back down after our week away. We came back to discover that, in spite of the dry weather and nobody to water the plants, the garden had exploded into life and was making a bid to go back to nature. We spent our first free day after we got home cutting the grass and all the hedges, watering furiously and doing some serious weeding. However, it was still all looking a little ropey when someone we know from Aberdeen came to visit as part of their holiday. They are “real” gardeners too, and it wasn’t quite looking as tidy as I had hoped it might, but they seemed to like it all the same. They very kindly brought us a lilac and a lavender from their own garden, which spurred us into further action after they had gone, clearing a patch which had been totally overgrown with weeds and creating a new border. This involved digging up all the daffodil bulbs we planted at the beginning of the year, and they are now drying in the garage, ready to be stored for the autumn.

D also decided that the enormous Pampas grass needed a haircut and, in his own inimitable style, he set to with the shears. Not how you are supposed to prune a Pampas grass – Monty Don talks about running gauntleted hands through the fronds to pull out dead material – but ours is so large, gauntlets just wouldn’t be enough. You would need a full body suit and to actually get inside it (yes, it really is that big) and it just isn’t feasible. So, the shears it was. The result was – er – dramatic and only time will tell if it will ever recover fully. The shears certainly won’t. One of the handles snapped off altogether in his enthusiasm. I was secretly quite glad, or we may not have had a Pampas grass left at all! It did bring more light and air to the geranium and heuchera that I had planted underneath it though, so at least something benefitted from the cull.

Tall Pampas grass
My poor Pampas grass is looking very short now!
Red shears lying on grass broken
Somehow, I think we need a new pair of shears …

The cats had their own catching up to do after a week inside the house. After watching us work in the garden for a while, clearly wondering why on earth we would go to all that effort on such a warm day, they needed to revisit all their favourite spots. After a good sniff to make sure they hadn’t been invaded during their house-arrest, they then settled down for a nap in the sunshine – it’s hard work running a garden, you know!

In our absence, the new rose bed had burst into bloom. It would have looked fantastic, I think, if I hadn’t have had a crisis of confidence a couple of months ago and sown lots of annual seeds in the same bed. My thought had been that, as the roses were such new and small plants, they probably wouldn’t flower this year, and the bed needed a bit of colour. Unfortunately, not only was I wrong, but I didn’t check the relative sizes of what I sowed and so you can’t really see the roses for the tall navy cornflowers surrounding them. They are interspersed with marigolds too – no order or colour co-ordination in our garden! It wasn’t exactly a lack of planning or design flair, even though that is what it looks like – more just inexperience. I have learned from it though and, next year, I will leave our rose bed alone.

Rose bush with white flowers
The white Yorkshire rose in bloom

Two plants that have thrived after our over-enthusiastic pruning are the hydrangea and the buddleia. I cut the hydrangea back to nearly nothing last year, as it consisted solely of the remnants of two enormous blooms on spindly stems and a lot of dead wood. This year, we have over a dozen flowers coming and it is the most vibrant pink I have ever seen. Once the buds open on the goldenrods that are standing tall and proud behind it, it should be a striking display I think. That bed has also suffered slightly from my indiscriminate seed sowing, but at least the marigolds there, while densely packed (pricking out – what’s that??), are smaller than the other plants so don’t hide them altogether and the sweet peas have their own corner. The buddleia is covered with new leaves apart from at the bottom where it is covered anyway by something else and, after being convinced we had killed it back in March, we now have high hopes that it will flower later in the year.

Self-seeded poppies are attracting the bees, as is the hebe, beautifully set off by the purple clematis which has made its way through to us from next door. The photinia has gone mad and desperately needs tying back and so does the climbing rose and the honeysuckle which are both trying their best to escape from their shackles tied to a trellis behind the oil tank. Maybe we should train them over the tank and hide its ugly plastic shell. The pink roses smell divine and it is such a shame that they are difficult to reach behind the tank.

Poppy flower with 2 bees inside
Can you see the insects in here, feasting on the pollen?
White hebe with purple clematis running through it
Isn’t this a lovely combination? And the bees love it too

Finally, the petunias, which I lovingly reared from tiny plugs in the greenhouse, are now looking splendid in our handmade pallet planter on the wall next to the patio doors. We still have several pallets left from the delivery of our topsoil earlier in the year and, after seeing the tables at the pizzeria last week, it seems the possibilities are endless. I quite fancy a potting table next – now, where is D and that saw …

Blue wooden planter on a wall, filled with petunias
I am so proud of this!