The boat graveyard

I needed a walk today.  Just some fresh air and a wander.  I've wanted to photograph a quilt and a blanket I have for a while, outside in good light.  So this morning I made a quick trip to Purton, a little village on the banks of the River Severn.  I parked near the lovely little church.

A canal runs along parallel to the river, with a tow path and bank between the two.

This lovely narrowboat was waiting for the bridge to swing to allow her through.

As you progress down the tow path, the space between the river and the canal narrows.

These pictures are taken from right beside the canal, and you can see how close the river is.

You can see how muddy it was, after days of west country rain.

But we're almost there now.

The ships graveyard.  If I had to sum up this place, this narrow, bleak strip of land between river and canal in one word, it would be godforsaken.  That's not to say that I don't like it here.  But it's not a pretty, cosy kind of place.  The river is wide and full of swirling currents and eddies and dangerous mudbanks.  The canal is bordered by odd bits of rusting machinery.  And then there's the graveyard.

This is a tall post with the names of many of the boats that have, over the years, been beached on the banks of the Severn.   Their function, in their final resting place, is to help prevent erosion.

Past here, the boats begin.  One after another, rotting gently in the mud.  Some metal, some with decaying wooden ribs, some clearly visible and some just a few pieces left poking out of the grass.

There are plaques alongside each one with a few details on.  I didn't have much time today, but one day I'd like to spend longer exploring here.

It amazes me how the wooden parts of the boats are still here.  Everything is gradually melding with the natural landscape, but despite the mud and the water everywhere there are still solid planks there, year after year after year.

I'd had it in mind to take pictures on a foggy day, with mist drifting eerily over the boat carcases.  But I didn't check the weather, and the sun came out.  I'll try and do better next time.  But at least it meant good views across the river to the opposite bank, which is still Gloucestershire, and not far from the Forest of Dean.

On the way back I stuck to the tow path, because the river bank was so muddy.  You can see how close the two are, the photo below is the river, and turning 180 degrees so my back was to the river you can see the canal in the following picture.

In keeping with the dangerous nature of the place I spotted masses of these berries in the hedgerow.  I think they're deadly nightshade.  If it is, it's well named.  Just a few berries can be fatal.  And it's not a good way to go.

I'll put the photos of the quilt and blanket on another post.  And I haven't forgotten the bread, although I do forget to take pictures of things before we eat them.  I'll never make a food photographer.  But I do apparently have a talent.  I found this out following this afternoon's school talent show.  There was a pause at the end for everyone to bow their heads and think about their own talents.  Later on, around the tea table, I happened to mention that I couldn't think of any.  I am completely without talent.  The littlest had a think.  And then said, "You do have a talent mummy.  It's doing the washing-up."  How happy this makes me.  It doesn't have to be a big talent.  Any one will do.  I'll take washing-up.  I am pretty good at it.

Gunpowder, treason and plot

This is the scene  in these here parts tonight as Guy Fawkes (or bonfire) night is celebrated.  Hope you all stayed safe and had fun.

We went to a little display put on by the eldest's cub pack.  At the end everyone (under twelve) got to wave a sparkler around.

It made us inordinately happy, even those of us with colds who didn't initially fancy going out.

Back soon with a little bread.  I've got a cracking book from the library and I'm bubbling away a sourdough starter and whipping up rolls like you wouldn't believe.  Hope you all had a good evening.

To the woods

A lovely half term morning, too good to be missed.  Blue sky, dazzling sun, but rain forecast for the afternoon.  We went to explore our local community woodland.

It's on the edge of town, within walking distance of our house (in fact the town is small, and everything is within walking distance of our house, which I like).  On the way we passed the new allotments.  There was a campaign for quite a long time for the local authority to provide more allotments, as the waiting list for the main site was about seven or eight years long.  To their credit they did finally come up with this little site.

It's only one plot deep, with maybe a dozen plots in total.  It's at the edge of a field, so I don't know if there's scope to expand.  It was good to see it's been fenced now, because before there was a problem with dogs, who are regularly walked along here, running amok across the site.  The main difficulty I can see with  having a plot here is that there is no water.  I really don't know how they managed in the hot part of the summer.  One day on my plot I used an entire water butt of water.  I also have a feeling that sheds aren't allowed, which makes life a bit trickier too.  But it is good that new allotments have been created, and people are clearly putting in lots of work there.

Just past the allotments is the entrance to the woods.

There's a map available and a figure of eight trail, which is numbered all the way round.  Hunting for the next number entertained the little people, but it did mean that one or two of them were racing on ahead, while the eldest wanted to go slowly and look for birds.  At times I was in the middle unable to see any of them.

Early on there was a climb to the hilltop, and this lovely view.

Still quite green, but the trees are mostly turning to their autumn colours now.  Then it was back into the woodland.

There were still a few sloes clinging to the blackthorn bushes.

And in this glade there was a huge apple tree, with four trunks, that had littered the ground with little apples.  I tried one and it was good - sweet and really juicy.  Not quite tangy enough to be perfect, but certainly nice enough to eat.  No doubt some forest dwelling creatures are enjoying them when noisy boys aren't around.

The littlest boy is wearing the belt from his bathrobe tied round his head in the style of a ninja.  He went all round the out of town shopping centre like this as well earlier in the week, when we went looking for a few necessities (mainly trousers that fit constantly growing legs).  It intrigues me how he has always been  concerned with what he wears.  The others have usually been happy to put on whatever is available.  But he has his own ideas of how he will be dressing.  And some of those ideas are quite individual.  No blending in with the crowd for this little man.  A sharp hat, sunglasses with woolly gloves, a good bag, a superhero costume, he's done it all.  There is nothing he likes more than going through his stuff and putting together an outfit.  I think he'd dress up every day if he could.  He puts it all on and then literally skips down the road, exuding joy.  Utterly invincible.  There are many lessons I could learn from him I think.

Back in the woods we found this most amazing beech tree.

Underfoot it was deliciously crunchy from all the beech nut cases.  Most of the nuts were gone, squirrelled away no doubt.  Someone intrepid had put planks high up in the branches.  The start of a tree house maybe.

Trees like this take my breath away.  So vast and majestic.  I hope we're planting enough of them so that our great-grandchildren will be able to stand underneath them and marvel.

The textures of the woodland were beautiful, especially against that blue autumn sky.

Winter is next up, and I love it.  I didn't used to, but now that we live nearer to the countryside I've found that I really do.  There's something beautiful about the turning of the seasons.  The winter feels very cleansing.  A time for the slate to be wiped clean.  Life pared down to mere survival for wild creatures.  The search for food in the short daylight hours, then shelter against the long cold night.  The miracle of the tiniest bird surviving in a vast icy landscape.  And I find a country walk in the winter puts me in the very best of moods.  There's nothing like coming in to a cosy warm home afterwards either.  So winter, whenever you're ready, bring it on.

NB:  You may have to remind me of all this lyrical waxing about winter in a couple of months time, when I'm stood watching yet another football match in a subzero force ten gale with horizontal rain soaking through every layer and feet and hands so cold they hurt.  Yes, if you could remind me about all of the poetic stuff then, that would be good.  I can't vouch for what my reply will be.

Hallowe'en

Just a hint of Hallowe'eniness here.  We carved a pumpkin in the morning.  Well, mostly I did.  I offered the thing round for anyone who fancied it to stick their hands in and pull out the middle, but no takers.  The biggest boy had a little go at carving, but after about a minute I couldn't stand it any more, waiting for the knife to slip and take off a finger, so I finished it.

Then we made pumpkin soup, which was surprisingly good.

After lunch we went to Slimbridge and did the Hallowe'en trail and looked at ducks in a row.

We saw some of the first of the Bewick's swans to arrive, all the way from arctic Russia, some 2,500 miles away.  Every autumn they leave their breeding grounds there and make the long journey to various places in England where they spend the winter.  Slimbridge usually have about 300 of the 7,000 who come, and the staff always identify each individual swan.

I didn't get a decent picture of one close-up because of the low light.  The winter colours are dominant now.  Beautiful muted browns and greys.  Cows are still grazing on the flood plains, but it was very muddy where they had been gathering and I'm thinking they'll be moved soon.

The sun was low the whole time we were there, and by the time we were heading out it was very gloomy.  The sky was full of noisy jackdaws, landing in the trees then swooping up again, arguing, cawing, jostling for position.  Quite appropriate for Hallowe'en I felt.

Back at home we lit the candle in the pumpkin and handed out sweets to a few trick-or-treaters, although there weren't as many as usual, maybe because of the rain.  There was a little Hallowe'en yumminess in the shape of these orange jellies.

Not quite Martha Stuart, but you knew that already.

A little time out

We all went to a party on Saturday.  Not the Pre-Children kind of party, but the sort where you arrive at 3pm and are at home on the sofa with a cup of cocoa by 9 o'clock.  About halfway through the boys needed a little air.  You know how it is; they start climbing on the furniture and bouncing off the walls.  They try and they try, but they just can't help shoving each other a little and starting a bit of a wrestle.  So we wandered down the road to a little pebble beach to look at the sea.  Well, the Bristol Channel anyway.

I love the colours of the waterside in winter.  All those pale steel blues and greys and browns.  I always think I'll make a quilt with those colours one day.

We scrambled around a bit and picked up some sea glass.  It was pretty quiet down there.  Just us and a few birds and one or two other wanderers.

We worked off some of the madness before we returned to the party.  There's nothing like fresh air to improve moods.

The clocks went back, but it meant nothing in our house.  I was woken up at 5.30am when the eldest was stood apparition-like at the end of the bed saying, "I'm just looking for the binoculars mummy, I need to see the nebula".  Well of course you do.

I spent Sunday morning watching the him playing football.  The rain was horizontal for a while and really heavy.  The score was something like 17-1 to our team.  I don't like matches like that, I really feel for the losing team.  It must be very dispiriting to the boys that lose, to turn up every time and get beaten so thoroughly.  And for the coach who tries so hard to help them.  A lesson in being gracious in victory for the eldest.  There's no merit to be had in gloating over an easy win.

The weather didn't improve during the afternoon.  We drove to a nearby town and looked in a bookshop and a library, and restocked our reading piles for the half term.  The drive home looked something like this.

But whatever half term throws at us, we're ready.  And I'm just happy to have the little people at home for the week.  If it's a week of being inside with books and drawing and games and baking and a little wrestling that's fine.  I just like being here.

The third thing

It's been one of those days.  I had a long list of little things to do before the hysteria of half term.  But no sooner had I sat down to a late breakfast (I always have a late breakfast at about 10am) of oats, cashew nuts and soya milk, BAM, power failure.  By the time I eat my breakfast I have usually left it a bit too late, and my mood and ability to cope with anything is fairly low.  I do not like to be disturbed at the crucial refuel moment, especially as it is when I like to sit down and have a quiet read, something I don't do at any other time during the day.  So it was not a happy moment.  And it took the whole of the rest of the morning, several phone calls and one helpful electrician to establish that the dishwasher is the problem.  So long as the dishwasher is never switched on, all is well.  The dishwasher man cannot come until Tuesday.  The electricial thinks it might need replacing.  Sigh.

Now I'm not superstitious, but people do say that these things always come in threes.  I've had fridge problems, laptop problems and now dishwasher problems.  That's three!  I'm done.  Touch wood.

After order was restored, I had a quiet moment in the garden.  I pulled up the Sungolds, and salvaged these last few.  The biggest boy will eat these, they're his favourite.  I found a label with the date 22 February on it.  So I've been nurturing these plants for some eight months.  Totally worth it though.

I found this squash in a greengrocer's at the weekend.  No idea what type it is, but I'd love to grow some next year.  It's only little, I don't know if the seeds will be viable, but I'll give it a go.

I've been looking for a little autumn inspiration.  Some warm food and some warm wool are what's needed I think.

I especially love this blanket.  I fear the wool is a little out of my price range though.  My price range is more along the lines of "let's see what's stuffed in the back of the cupboard".   Unfortunately I happen to know that there aren't twenty-eight skeins of luxury baby alpaca back there.  Not to worry, I have something far less classy in mind.

I'm treating you to a rare photo of the hamster today.  The sun was out, warming his little house, and he popped out for a quick wander, to check that all his stuff was still in its place.  He's so very nocturnal, we hardly see him at all during the day, so we always get excited when he appears.  And don't worry, although he's in the sun I keep a very close eye on the temperature and close the blinds as soon as it creeps up.  During the summer months the sun doesn't penetrate this far into the room fortunately.

So here we all are, ready for a whole week of half term adventuring.  The rain is hammering down on the Velux skylights and the wind is at full throttle but everything inside feels very cosy and autumnal.  We're ready, bring it on.