Peak meadow

Glorious midsummer and I feel we have reached peak meadow. The dog is having the odd paddle in the stream, which he only does at this time of year, and all the little bird families in the garden are full-sized now. Although they are still asking their parents to feed them. 

Exams finally ended and the urchins have months of being at a loose end. I have done a little decluttering of papers and text books. The littlest boy is as anticipated clinging quite tightly to all his possessions, saying things like, "It's my CHILDHOOD," when I try to prise a Moomin book from his hands. I did manage to remove two basketballs and a football from his room, which felt like a win. There are still some in there though and he says he now needs a new basketball. Two steps forward etc. 

The garden feels a bit short on bees this year. I have lots of bean flowers and salvias and a touch of lavender, but hardly any bees. Worrying. Maybe they are going round when I'm not watching.

I have had stacks of sweet peas though, as well as strawberries and some very feisty radishes. The pigeons ate an entire row of beetroot, right down to the ground so that I forgot for a moment there was every any there. Easy come easy go. They aren't touching the bindweed. 

The asparagus is a bit mystifying. I thought there would be a few shoots, but each plant only has one single shoot. I can't decide if that's normal or if it's unhappy. 

The pond is looking like it needs some rain to top it up. It's an absolute hive of activity, with birds flapping away in there washing their feathers in happy little groups. There are lots of nests in my neighbour's huge tangle of grape vine, rambling rose and bramble, which is just next to the pond, so it's been a favourite stop for all the new little birds. I pretty much spend all day looking out of the window :) 

Two doors up is a garden with plastic grass and not a single plant. No birds and bees there. 

How is everything at your end? All good I hope. xx

An apricot rose

 

The new rose is here. You will see I went with apricot in the end. I have a little space at the end of the garden, so a pink one hasn't been ruled out... 

You will be happy to hear that the rat situation has calmed down. I think the baby rats hadn't learned to make themselves scarce yet. Now they have and we are back to not seeing each other, which we are both quite happy with. 

The garden is still full of birds, particularly starlings and sparrows. There must be almost a hundred starlings in the little local group now and the chicks have improved their flying skills no end. Before they could only do straight lines, so there was a lot of zigzagging about the place, landing on odd things and shuffling round to do another straight line to the next branch. 

I finally took the bench apart and painted it black. It was a bit of a messy job, or maybe that's just me.  The littlest boy said, 1) I preferred the green 2) it's really patchy and 3) you got paint all over yourself. In my defence, the paint was really thick. It has a three-year guarantee for outside I believe, and took around six showers to remove. I tackled the patchy green bits so that from a distance it doesn't look too bad. 

You can sit there now and enjoy the smell of the rose and look for rats.

In other news, the littlest boy turned 16. He had a GCSE on his birthday. A bit unlucky as sometimes it falls in half term. So it was a low-key celebration with pizza and Delia Smith's Ultimate Carrot Cake, which is always a winner. 

It was also the dog's 7-year anniversary of being our dog. Also a fairly low-key affair, although he did eat something revolting on the evening dog walk, which is always a red letter day for him as he's quite tightly policed when out and about. The dog food website says that when he's 8 he will be a Senior Dog. 

He still gets the zoomies and does barking and joining in when the urchins do pretend fighting, so not quite senior yet. 

Exam season plods on. I am working up to some major-league decluttering once it is over. I don't like to rock the boat at present, but the second that last paper is handed in I shall be moving in in force. At least that is the plan, assuming I have time etc. It could even be followed by some major-league cleaning, although I don't want to overcommit myself at this stage.

Hope all is well at your end and that you are enjoying the summer if you're in the Northern hemisphere. CJ xx

The peaceful sanctuary of the garden

Greetings from my favourite time of year. I think I smile all the way round on my dog walks at the moment. Even the dog is doing mindfulness in the morning when we're down by the stream and the birds are singing. 

The garden is chugging along in a slightly stressful way. Patio Rat has had babies, which briefly unnerved me, although they are quite sweet when they rub their little faces with their hands. I discussed it with my nextdoor neighbour, who is happily pro-wildlife, and who doesn't see a problem unless they come into the house. They have been lying low lately, so I have calmed down somewhat. Although I am all for wildlife, there is part of me that still wants to stand on a chair and scream. Why is that? I have no idea. I am tamping it down.

The neighbour on the other side is rewilding vigorously and the huge growth of trees and shrubs is just full of birds' nests, it is wonderful. The garden is full of starling babies and sparrow babies. The newest starlings haven't learned to steer yet, meaning that when they fly straight at you or at the house, they have no idea how to change direction. They crash land where they can and hop to safety. 

The dog has had a couple of close rat encounters, which involved quite loud intervention on my part. I am happy to say that no rat was harmed. He is back to waiting by the entrance area now and saying things like, 'Ratty? Would you say that you are chewy?' and 'What is inside of you Ratty?' Ratty does not care to reply. 

I also have to check that there are no birds down low before I let him out or he runs at them barking madly. So it is not entirely relaxing out there, particularly as he likes to barge through the door first and rocket about the place.

The two younger urchins are doing exams. Which is also a little stressful for me. They seem remarkably calm though. Honestly, it's as if they're not even my children. 

I will take some garden pictures next time. I have new raised beds and asparagus and three types of beans. Also, I got some red-flowered strawberries at the Saturday market on, well, Saturday. Very pretty. We shall see if the fruit is any good or if it's all a gimmick. I might treat myself to a rose as well. I am torn between pink and apricot. My gut feeling is apricot, but if it's a bit too yellow or orange I might regret it. I have been agonising over it for ages. You know how I am with decisions. Feel free to weigh in with suggestions. I did find one that I love, but it apparently grows to 25 feet, so not entirely what I was after for a pot on the patio. 

The rose website has stunning pictures of them in containers, all glorious blooms and shiny, healthy foliage. I think we all know that mine won't end up looking quite like that. 

Any news at your end? I hope all are well. CJ xx

Silver birches

 

I am suddenly obsessed with silver birch trees. I was already very much a tree person, always wondering whether I can squeeze a tree in here or there and lamenting the tree cutting on my morning dog walks by the stream. Then I saw something about how perfect silver birches are for small gardens - slender, not too thick they block the light etc.

Plus, I remember reading ages ago that they are second only to oak in the number of species they can support. More than 300 insect species, according to the Woodland Trust. So I have put a couple in the garden. They are just very small at the moment, but I do so love planting a tree. If I were ever to come into money, I would buy woodland I think, trees just makes me happy.

And of course, now I am spotting silver birches everywhere. I chose the native one, which I assume is probably the best bet for wildlife. I'm also thinking about digging a hole or two in the patio and sticking in a fig tree and an olive that I have knocking around in pots, but I'm slightly concerned that I might hit the mains sewer. It feels like the sort of thing I might do. Does anyone know where they go? I seem to recall they mostly go out the front and to a main pipe running down the middle of the road, but it would be big mistake to make, even for me, if it turned out to be under the patio. Might just stick with the containers to be on the safe side.

Not much news here, I am working, working, working which doesn't make for exciting reading. The dog is well, and has been enjoying a dry and sunny day after surprise snow yesterday morning. No-one was expecting it at all, so the morning dog walk was full of astonishment from all and sundry. It was a proper thick white snowfall, but the day warmed up and it was gone by lunchtime. No complaints from me, I have usually had enough after a day of snow.

Just a week ago I was rescuing early bees who had come out for a look round and collapsed with exhaustion/cold/thirst/hunger. I found one on the pavement, with acres of tarmac all around. I took her into the kitchen where it was warmer and popped her on a plate with some honey and water. You could see her lapping at it for ages. When she was all warmed up and buzzy we took her out to the woodpile. I hope that's the right thing to do. A day or two later, there was another one. Hopefully they are tucked back up for now though.  

I shall leave you now and be back when I have some actual news. I hope all is well at your end. CJ xx

The festive stepladder

 

I find I have absolutely no new photos on my camera, so I am cheating with some preloved images so that I can come and wish you all the seasonal stuff.

And also so that I can tell you about my Christmas tree, as has become our annual tradition. You may recall the year we had one that was so fat that the middle boy and I couldn't see the television and had to sit outside of the circle being sarcastic for the whole festive season. Then there was the year I bought a tiny real tree with the idea of bringing it inside every year, except that all the needles fell off in February, probably after the trauma of going from ideal growing conditions (garden centre) to Above the River Towers and then outside. And the year I inherited an artificial tree which I believed would solve all of my problems, being eco-friendly and reusable ad infinitum, until I got it out of the box and it turned out to be 18 inches tall and could only handle ten baubles.

This year, I had a genius idea. A festive stepladder! Yes. You can see them on the interwebs and they are very nice indeed, people make a lovely job of them. And in the spring you can hang handmade quilts and Welsh wool blankets on them, and in the summer you can prop them against an apple tree and it all looks marvellous. I had no sooner had the idea pop into my head than I was on Ebay sourcing one. The idea is you festoon it with baubles or greenery or tinsel or whatever you have to hand and it all looks beautiful.

In a stroke of luck, I found one almost immediately, only a half hour's drive away. It looked nice and vintage and was attractively photographed in the street from quite a distance. Which should have set a small alarm bell ringing, but didn't, because I was caught up in the fast excitement and brilliance of my idea. I measured the car to make sure it would fit, then before you know it I was back on Ebay and it was bought. From idea to execution couldn't have been more than twenty minutes.

This was the point at which I measured the height of the living room. Yes, indeed, I should probably have done that before I bought it. And the strange thing was, the stepladder was actually taller than room. What are the odds? I was still fairly hopeful that once it was opened out it would fit in nicely. Have you ever done one of those personality test things? My leading strength is optimism, which is probably just as well. So off I went to collect it.

Oh my. It is HUGE. The stepladder of a giant. Unlike anything I have ever seen before. And I suddenly understood why it had been photographed in the street from a distance. As well as being really tall, it is also really wide. It just about fitted in the car, although some mirrors and windows were temporarily obscured.

I got the middle boy to help me into the house with it when I got home, as he is the calmest and least prone to providing unsolicited advice. Plus, I feel this sort of thing is pretty much what he expects from me most of the time, so he just takes a slightly deeper breath than normal and gets on with things.

We eventually worked out how to get it in the living room door. It turns out that even with both legs as wide apart as they will go, the ceiling is too low for it to fit. So we propped it, closed, against the wall. I then spent a week thinking. Should I admit defeat and try to sell it? Put it in the garage along with all of my other brilliant ideas? By the time a week had passed, we were all used to it, despite the fact that it takes up quite a chunk of space. So I decided to decorate it.

The Christmas decorations live in a very tricky-to-access spot in the converted loft, so there was quite a bit of cross, sweaty shifting of giant cricket bags to get to the cupboard. And even more cross sweaty stuff when I couldn't find the lights. Honestly, it never looks like that in the adverts, some poor woman stuck in the corner of what could be mistaken for a junk shop, falling over as she tries to get out, hair all dragged the wrong way and baubles falling out of a damp box. No, on the television it is all smiles and shiny bouncy hair being tossed around as the family all gather together in festive bliss.

The middle boy helped some more by suggesting the right placement for the lights (trickier than you would imagine on a festive stepladder) and admiring some of the more minimalist decorations, including a pipe cleaner arrangement with a small silver bauble stuck on top and an old bean tin with holes punched in it that I believe is FC. The fairy is jammed against the ceiling and the slight roughness of the stepladder, the authenticness one might say, has dragged some of the feather boa effect off of some of the angels, but from a distance you can hardly tell. 

Anyway, it is all done now and no-one has dared to say anything too direct about it, although there have been one or two comments about the fact that it has CONTRACTOR stamped across the front a couple of times in giant letters. I have not quite worked out where it will go for the rest of the year, given its size and the fact that the garage is, as aforementioned, already full up with some of my previous brilliant ideas. But in the meantime, I have NO PINE NEEDLES so I am calling it a win. I will try and take a photo in daylight. I did try just now, but everything was orange and I feel you wouldn't be seeing it in its best light. 

I hope all is well at your end and that you are all prepared for some nice days. I have somehow ended up with an insane amount of parsnips, but otherwise everything is going to plan. So far. Except obviously the festive stepladder. Have a lovely day, and I shall see you on the other side. CJ xx

An egg in a pocket

 

Autumn photos from the canal and a couple of great reads from last month. I particularly enjoyed reading 'We Have Always Lived in the Castle' around Hallowe'en time, it's deliciously dark. I have moved on to 'Fourth Wing' now, one of those books I am reading to see what all the fuss is about/so as not to miss out. I'm enjoying it so far.

I made miso and surprisingly it has been an absolute triumph. It matured for ages and I'd sort of forgotten about it or assumed it wouldn't be anything to write home about, but it's fabulous. As good as professional miso! I have loads of it, so I'm hoping it will keep. In the meantime, I'm making lots of soup and aiming to boost everyone' immune systems - they've been bringing various viruses home from school on a regular basis.

I have a new washing machine, which plays Schubert's "The Trout" at the end of a cycle which I am told may be some complex metaphor for being trapped by doing the washing. One of its first tasks was to wash an egg out of a pocket.

Someone gave the littlest boy a freshly laid egg which he was intending to cook for his breakfast the following day. This was around lunchtime. He put it in his pocket (I KNOW) and wandered around with it in there ALL DAY. He even flopped down on his bed and still it was fine. 

In the end he plunged his hand into his pocket to put his ear buds away and that was the end of it. Me and the middle boy have not got over our amazement that he could carry an egg around for as long as that without breaking it.

I am in the middle of doing NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month at the moment. It's challenge where you aim to write 50,000 words in a month, which isn't generally a whole novel, but it's nice start. I am all on track so far, even a couple of days ahead in fact. I do love writing a first draft, but the editing bit is a strain. 

When I am not writing (which is my day job as well), I am looking out the window at the wildlife. Lots of long-tailed tits appear sometimes, right outside of the window. A squirrel came looked right in the other day as well. Good job the dog didn't spot it. Still no hedgehog though. There was a dead one on the green the other day which was sad. Someone told me that they eat pumpkin and it can kill them.

So I may be adding unattended pumpkin to the things that I am opposed to now, which already includes fireworks and Christmas. Well, more of the packaging/landfill side of Christmas, you know what I mean. But I worry that it makes me a Grinch and that the list is getting longer.

I hope all is well at your end and that you haven't been too badly battered by wind and rain. CJ xx