Where did August go?

Beautiful hydrangea at Cilrhiw

I’ve finally got around to writing the August blog!

August on the Cotswolds

August started in typically manic mode, as I started the month still in South Somerset, where I finished my dog/house sit on the Saturday morning, before driving back to Shepton Mallet, unpacking, repacking and going straight off to Cheltenham on the Saturday afternoon! The weather was lovely and I decided that, as I had never actually stopped in Tetbury on my many journeyings through it, if I could find a parking place I would finally break my journey and have a wander. I drove into the car park near the centre of the town, only to see the car in front of me take the final parking place! Doh! I’ll stop there one of these days! I carried on across the Cotswolds rejoicing in the golden stone walls, the abundance of wild flowers in the verges and the barley ripening in the fields – all the things I love best about my native hills.

The Golden couple and family!

On Sunday morning, Mum and I donned our glad rags and set off for Oxford to attend Mum’s cousin’s Golden Wedding Celebrations. The venue was the Oxford University Rugby Club pavilion and, although I’d found it on Google maps, it all looked very different on the ground on a very busy and very hot Sunday! It was at this point that, just for a short time, I wished I had Satnav. However, following my nose, and having a vague idea of the area I needed to be in, we actually found it and were only half-an-hour later than I’d intended. It was a great afternoon and I got to see my two cousins, one of whom lives in New Zealand, who I have rarely seen since they were children.

I stayed at Mum’s overnight but left soon after breakfast as I had a gardening job to do on Monday afternoon, followed by baking for Tuesday’s market. As you can imagine, by Wednesday, I wasn’t sure who I was, where I was or what day it was!

The following weekend I did a short farm sit for my friends at Dundry, so that they could attend a birthday party in Cornwall – I was amazed to see the size of the chicks that I’d looked after a few months ago, and the ducklings that had hatched just after I’d left, were now indistinguishable from the adults. As I drove home across the Mendips on Sunday evening I suddenly realised that I’d left my wellingtons behind! For a gardener/farm sitter this is a bit of a disaster but, I also realised that I would be almost driving past the door again the following day so could stop and collect them then.

Monday morning saw Jeni and me heading north (via Dundry) up the M5. However, there was so much traffic on the motorway, that I decided to get off just north of Bristol and head up the A38 to Gloucester and beyond. We were going to Oswestry, so went up the border, stopping at the wonderfully-named Trumpet Tea Rooms to have some lunch, break the journey and look around their lovely little art gallery. Dawn was working in a shop called Rowanthorn on Monday, so Jeni and I dropped in to see her and ended up buying things – although the contents are similar to those on offer in Glastonbury, Mike prices everything so reasonably (and gives such lovely hugs – a very important factor as far as I’m concerned) that it seems wrong not to indulge!

Fish and chip supper at Barmouth

This may well be our last visit to the lovely Cilrhiw, as they have received two offers on the property, and we were there for a short break to do some gardening and also spend time with Dawn. Tuesday was a dry day, so we worked most of the day in the garden, weeding paths and flower beds and cutting back the triffid-like hardy geraniums. On Wednesday it rained, so we turned our attention indoors and painted the bathroom, shower room and conservatory – once we get started there’s no stopping us! The weather on Thursday could have gone either way, so we all took the day off, put Jasper (the Miniature Schnauzer) into the car and drove across North Wales to Harlech, where we spent quite a long time on the beach. Dawn and Jeni wanted a paddle so left me sitting on a rug on the sand. There had obviously been quite fierce storms in the days before we arrived as the high tide line was marked by great swathes of seaweed, and there were numerous dead jellyfish littering the sand – poor things, although they do look very much like aliens! From Harlech we drove  a little bit further south to Barmouth and ended the day sitting on the promenade, eating fish and chips and keeping a wary eye on the seagulls!

On Friday morning we said a sad farewell to Dawn, Jasper and Cilrhiw – both Jeni and I have done a lot of work in that garden over the last nine years! I can’t quite believe that I will never experience the solitude and quiet in that valley setting again.

My son, Dave, came down to Somerset on the Saturday, to help me celebrate my birthday and, as he was on ‘Factory Fortnight’ he stayed in my caravan for a few days and we were able to have a much-needed catch up, plus he got to see some Bristol-based friends, too.

And then, suddenly, we were at the Bank Holiday weekend and I was off to the farm near Pensford, on the way to Bristol, to farm sit for the alpacas! At least, I thought, I won’t have to worry about the imminent arrival of baby alpacas, as they must all have been born by now. However, Sarah had another nerve-racking task for me – one of the baby alpacas (cria) needed to have a top-up bottle twice a day, as his mum didn’t seem to be producing sufficient milk for him. First, catch your cria as, unlike most bottle-fed lambs, he didn’t come galloping towards you whenever you appeared. Sarah found the easiest way to feed him was to scoop him up, sit down in a camping chair, with the bottle in the drinks holder, fold his legs under him, so that he was sitting on her lap and then, keeping a firm pressure across his back with one arm (to prevent him scrambling off) hold the bottle in the other hand. It all looked quite easy, but I knew that was just an illusion! 

Dougal xx

On Friday afternoon I had my first solo experience. Dougal did not want to be caught, particularly by a complete stranger, but I carefully and quietly walked him into a group of adults and, hoping that they wouldn’t kick me, managed to catch him. When I scooped him up I was really surprised at how light he was – they are all long legs and fleece! We managed to sit down quite comfortably and it was rather pleasant, cuddling a baby alpaca on a warm, sunny afternoon, whilst watching the other alpacas and the sheep in the further field, whilst large dragonflies hunted for insects beneath the trees bordering the River Chew. He was not a fast feeder, in fact each feed took about half-an-hour and he was only having 5 fluid ounces of goat’s milk at a time. He also hummed most of the time, too. I thought they only hummed if they were nervous, but Sarah assured me that it is just their way of communicating. They all hum to a certain extent but Dougal seemed to do it far more and I found myself humming back, which he didn't seem to mind! I think I am now fluent in alpaca-speak!

I’m pretty sure that the other animals recognised me from my last visit as, apart from two additional goslings that hadn’t met me, they all behaved very well – I even think I got most of the chickens into the right runs this time! As it was such lovely weather, I spent quite a bit of each day in the garden weeding, first the herbaceous border and then an area, overgrown with weeds, that had fruit bushes in it. Bonnie, the lovely Labrador tried to help by tearing up mouthfuls of couch grass!

Before the day got too hot and again, in the cool of the evening, Bonnie and I would go for a walk along the river, up through the wood, stopping to check and feed the male alpacas, and then back through the meadow to the house. A couple of times we went a bit further, up the Public Footpath that runs through the meadow, across the next field and then back down the green lane that borders their land. This green lane is, very obviously, an ancient trackway connecting two villages as it lies sunken between two banks and with a rough stone track bed, but it is now only used by the occasional horse rider and boys on scramble bikes, and even they must struggle to get through in places as the brambles virtually meet in the middle. I often wish that I could go back in time to see what these places looked like in the past.

And there we are – August in a nutshell, and here we are already into September and the seasons are turning again with brambles laden with fruit, sloes ripening on the blackthorn, tomatoes and courgettes in the garden and me, with a slight sense of panic as I feel I have to somehow pick and preserve all this bounty!

The fruit bed - before ...

... and after!