A pirate quilt

A few pictures of the pirate quilt I made for the middle boy a year or so ago.  It's the only quilt top I've sewn on the machine.  I kept the pieces of fabric big because some of them are pirate maps (ar har) and I didn't want to cut them up too much.

It was really so quick to make compared with the hand sewn ones I've done before.  And I made sure it's nice and thick, just right to keep a scurvy pirate sea dog warm out on the ocean wave in a drafty galleon.

I kept the back really simple as well, just a few stripes of fabric with the rest of it a nice dangerous pirate black.

I took the photos a couple of weeks ago when I went for a walk at the ship's graveyard.

A shame there wasn't a pirate ship drifting silently past in the background.  Maybe once upon a time there was...

While I'm passing, I'm after a little advice from any growers out there.  Which potato varieties would you recommend?  I'm thinking of planting a couple of types next year, and apparently it's time to get the order in.  I also need to do the seed order by the end of the month, to take advantage of the one-third off that the allotment society receives.  So if you have any other suggestions of a particular variety of thing that never lets you down or something you've really enjoyed, I'd love to hear them.

The allotment in November

I made it down to the allotment on Wednesday for the first time in probably three weeks.  I like this time of year - nothing gets too out of hand while I'm away.

It was pretty cold, and over the river there was a tube of mist.  This happens quite a lot, and I love to see it.  It's just below the horizon in the photo.  You can see the park as well, where we spend many a happy hour climbing, swinging and playing football.  And paddling in the summer in the big paddling pool.

The plots are looking very autumnal now.  Still some greenness and a few flowers, but it's all slowing down and waiting to be tidied.

On my way to the far corner where our plot is, I saw plenty of things I'd like to try and grow next year.  Dahlias, definitely, and maybe some chard and leeks.

The last time I was here I planted garlic and onions.  You can just see the new shoots at the front of the picture.  I love how they germinate in these short dark months, and sit there through the winter waiting to grow away in spring.

I spent some time on the asparagus bed.  Firstly cutting down all the fronds, and then weeding, and finally mulching with some leaf mold I was lucky enough to get from the boys' school last year.  It's not fully broken down in twelve months, but I'm hoping the worms will pull it down into the soil.  There were certainly plenty about.  I struggle to weed the asparagus because I don't want to damage the crowns.  It looks okay at the moment but no doubt there will plenty of weeds reappearing in spring.  I wanted to make sure I added something to the soil because asparagus needs so little doing to it it's easy to overlook.

Time for a little tea break after that.  A nice cup of redbush tea.  I didn't want to wait for it to cool down, and then I got mud in the cup so I didn't drink most of it.  I don't have the luxury of time to sit about and drink tea when I manage to get a little while at the plot.  Some people, with immaculate plots, I only ever see sitting around with mugs.  It's a bit of a mystery how any work ever gets done.  There must be a little magic at work I think.  Pixies maybe.

I pulled out the cosmos and trimmed the sedum and lavender, and picked the last four roses.  No more until next summer.  They were a bit battered, but they're in a glass on the mantelpiece and they still look lovely.  I don't know what variety it is, but it's been flowering since June.

The blackcurrants are looking a bit tidier now.  At the front of the picture is the path that marks the end of my plot.  In the summer the blackcurrants had fallen completely over the path and onto the neighbouring plot.  I've cut out masses of wood, although it doesn't look like it.  This picture shows the whole plot, from the sign down to the green shed.

From top to bottom, there are blackcurrants, raspberries, gooseberries, a plum tree and japanese wineberry, strawberries (to be removed), a bed for vegetables etc., the asparagus, another two beds each about 3m square and then the area around the shed.  Behind the shed it's all a bit overgrown, but there was rhubarb back there earlier in the year.  Then there's a path and the hedgerow with the most enormous blackberries and beyond that the stream.  Our own little piece of land, that still gives me a thrill every time I visit.  This is the view from the other side of the fruit bit.

At the front is a little chilli plant I bought from Aldi back in early July.  They don't ever water their plants, and so it was really dehydrated and reduced in price.  But it recovered beautifully and has given me far more chillies than I know what to do with.  Not bad for 99p.  If I grow chillies again I'll definitely do it this way. I tried growing some in pots, but this one was far happier in the soil.

So there we have it.  November at the plot.  I don't have any more crops to harvest.  Next year I'll try and have some winter things to pick.  This year I'll just be happy to get everything tidied away.  There's still lots to do, but the pressure is off now.  So long as it's done by spring, all will be well.

Misty mornings and utter mortification

I'm loving the darkening of the season.  Cold, damp, misty mornings.  Low sun and early sunsets.  Long indoor evenings.

Quilts are out.

Pigs are in.

A few seasonal blooms.  I love the leaves on this little cyclamen.  And the way the buds unfurl.  And the way they flower in the darkest days of the year.  Tough, but incredibly beautiful and delicate looking.

I found a book on bread at the library.

Turns out it is rather brilliant (and I'm not being paid to say that).  I picked it up because of the chapter on sourdough, and I've really learned so much from it.  I tried sourdough once before, but it was like a brick.  Now, I do believe I've cracked it.  It's all explained in quite a lot of detail, but James Morton also takes quite a relaxed attitude to making it.

I started with some easy (non-sourdough) rolls that everyone loved.

Then I moved on to Advanced White Bread.  Fancy huh?

First I made a sourdough starter, which took a couple of days.  In fact it seems to be getting livelier the older it is.  Here's the flour and water stage.

Then I kneaded some dough and left it to rise.  It really amazed me how bubbly it was.

I don't have a picture of the finished thing, but I was pleasantly surprised.

Yesterday I made a sourdough overnight in the bread machine, and it honestly is amazing how much it rises without any ordinary packet yeast in it at all.

No yeast!

There are lots of other ideas I'd like to try.

I love the idea of natural yeasts, which are left to prove for much longer than ordinary dried yeast.  The book says that once you have a sourdough starter it can be used in pretty much any bread.  In the meantime it's sat in the kitchen quietly bubbling away, and being fed once a day to keep it going.

Last night was parents' evening at school.  We all went together.  During the littlest's turn we were having a light-hearted chat about being good.  Jokingly he said that Daddy is naughty.  The eldest, to my horror, piped up and said, "Mummy's really naughty, she swears all the time!"  I was literally left speechless.  I really don't, I promise, although a bad word may have slipped out a couple of days before which was probably what he was referring to.   I sat there in front of the teacher going pink, then red and wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.  It was actually like being back at school.  I'm sure I will be the talk of the staffroom now.  "Of course, you know his mother swears all the time, it explains a lot."  I'm actually a pretty quiet person, so they probably also have me down as some sort of psychopathic Jekyll and Hyde character as well.  Careful not to set her off.  Sigh.  I spent the rest of the time in a bit of a trance.  No idea what any of the children are doing at school at all.  Mostly I was concentrating on not swearing.

Remembrance

"They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
  Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. 
  At the going down of the sun and in the morning
  We will remember them."
                                                                                                               Lawrence Binyon "For the Fallen"
                                                                                                                                        September 1914

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.