Wild Flowers

Rosebay Willowherb in July (Scotland)

 

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight

We did a scene from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' when I was at Junior School (First School to all the youngsters out there!) and, even then, these few lines brought up goosebumps on my arms – they are so magical! The names of our native wild flowers are often so evocative and roll off the tongue in a very pleasing way, I find. My particular favourites are Rosebay Willowherb and Hemp Agrimony, both of which are evident in the hedgerows at the moment.

Lady's Smock in May (Wales)

I realised the other day, as I drove from my home to Somerton with a batch of baking for the Country Market, that I have been unconsciously measuring the progress of the seasons by the hedgerows for some time. In spring I notice the obvious Primroses, Cowslips and Bluebells followed by Red Campion and Lady's Smock and the ubiquitous Cow Parsley – in fact I call, erroneously, any white umbelliforous plant 'Cow Parsley', as I can't distinguish between them with any certainty! When I see the magenta spikes of Rosebay Willowherb pushing their way skywards I know that summer is in full swing and, when these same spikes are fading shadows of their erstwhile glory, I know that summer is drawing to a close. Then the wild clematis, Old Man's Beard, comes into its own smothering the hedgerows, briefly, with creamy flowers before becoming even more noticeable by its fluffy seed heads that grace the hedges and roadside trees all winter.

Wood Sorrel growing on a fallen branch (Wales)

On my travels over the last five years I have seen an incredible variety of wild flowers – many that I did not know the names of – and have tried to take photos of many of them. Unfortunately, my photos never seem to do justice to their extraordinary beauty and I have yet to take a photograph of a bluebell that looks the 'right' blue!

Just across the fields from where I live now there is a 'fishing lake'. It is actually a flooded railway cutting from the long-closed Highbridge branch of the Somerset and Dorset Railway (known locally as the 'Slow and Dirty'!). In places its is about twenty feet deep and is a strange, slightly spooky place, overhung by goatwillow and fringed with bullrushes and brambles. Very few anglers ever use it and the fishing stations are fast becoming reclaimed by nature. I'm told that there are kingfishers there but, when I walked over to it the other day, the only wildlife I disturbed was a lone female mallard duck. I could hear moorhens in the bullrushes at one end, but they kept themselves hidden from view. There are quite a few different wild flowers growing here – mainly the type that like rough wastelands, such as Yarrow and Vetch. One, a very pretty yellow daisy-type, I had to look up in a book and discovered that it had the very prosaic name of Fleabane, and was used to ward off fleas in houses in days gone by. Quite often the name of the flower refers to it's use in the 'olden days' and gives us a clue as to how our ancestors used it, such as: Lungwort, used to treat diseases of the lungs; Hedge Woundwort, used as an aid to healing wounds as it has antiseptic qualities; Comfrey (or Knit-bone), used in a poultice to aid healing of wounds and broken bones; Scabious, used to alleviate itching and in the treatment of ulcers; Fat Hen, pretty self explanatory really – it was used as a feed to fatten hens. These are just a few examples, there are many,many more and I find it quite fascinating.

My 'fat hens' have settled into their own little routine now – they spend the morning in their yard while the dogs, that Mary boards, have the run of the big yard and then, in the afternoon, they are allowed out to free range which means that they immediately make a bee-line for the newly mucked out stables where they scratch around in the straw, spreading it about liberally, and undoing all Mary's careful bedding up! Once they have trashed those to their satisfaction they head off to the muck heap to scratch out the tastiest worms, before finally going to scratch about on the grass. If wet, they go into the big barn where the hay and straw bales are kept and have great fun scratching about in there too and having dust baths. I think they're happy! I am still awaiting my first egg from the youngsters but it can't be long now as their combs are getting larger and redder day by day. Meanwhile I still have to buy eggs to use in my baking for the market on Saturdays!

Having been left, on several occasions, with baked goods that haven't sold and that I do not want to eat myself, I have been looking around for a second outlet, and think I may have found a possible candidate. On Fridays it is Market Day in Shepton Mallet and, I may have mentioned in a previous blog, that when I went a few months ago I was shocked to find only three or four stalls. Since then an enterprising lady has approached the market people and done a deal whereby for a reduced pitch fee (£5 instead of £20) people can set up small stalls and sell their wares, be it handmade cards, jams, plants, craft items or whatever. These have become known as the Suitcase Traders and, when I visited on Friday, had attracted quite a number of customers. The whole area had a definite 'buzz' about it and, if Helen can get enough signatures on her petition for free parking in the town on market day, could really help to regenerate the town. I would quite like to be a part of this movement and it would work in well with the Somerton Country Market, as I could bake the majority of items on a Thursday, present them at Shepton on a Friday and take any unsold items, plus a few newly-baked ones, to Somerton on a Saturday. I'll let you know how I get on.

Dog rose (Wales)

Of Poultry and People!

My harvest begins!

On Sunday I ate the first vegetables that I have grown, on my own plot, for many a long year and it felt great! The climbing French beans have really taken off and I have had several pickings that I have processed and put in the freezer, but Sunday was the first meal using them fresh. I also had my own Purple-sprouting Broccoli. I knew the provenance of everything else on my plate, thanks to my mate Mick and his 'no-dig' garden across the road, except for the chicken pieces, and they were free range and British, so it was all good stuff. I also have some impressive-looking onions that are almost ready for lifting and my first early potatoes (grown in a large pot) were also surprisingly productive – I planted three seed potatoes of a variety called 'Jazzy' and, although they were on the small side, the pot was crammed and the crop weighed in at nearly three pounds, which I didn't think was bad. I have three other varieties of container-grown spuds and look forward to harvesting them soon. My second planting of perpetual spinach seems to have outgrown whatever pest got it first time round – I don't think it was slugs or snails, perhaps birds?

The Araucanas

Talking of birds, things have moved on a bit in the poultry world here. After I wrote my last blog it became all too apparent that the French and English hens (the Marans and the Sussex) were racially prejudiced against the Araucanas (Peruvian) and were never going to let them integrate into the flock. Admittedly they did look a bit different, being smaller and with a tufted head, but I felt that beating them up whenever they dared to emerge was taking racial discrimination too far. Mary and I discussed the possibility of creating a separate poultry house and run just for the Araucans but, with no second-hand or recyclable materials to hand, it was going to be quite expensive and, in the end, I took the sensible course of action and asked Sally if I could return my little trio and swap them for a couple more of the Sussex hens.

Aubrey

At the same time as Buffy (the Buff Sussex) was taking out her vindictive nature on the poor Peruvians, I began to suspect that the Light Sussex 'hen' was in fact, a cockerel! He confirmed this on the morning that I was returning the Araucanas to Sally by crowing when he was standing right next to me! As I'd already become quite attached to him/her I decided to keep him as part of the new flock. Two days later I returned with another Light Sussex and a Brown Sussex and even from Day 1 it was noticeable that the other hens were far less aggressive towards them. Within a week the little flock was integrated enough for them all to be sleeping in the same house, although the two new birds tend to forage alone when they are all free-ranging.

Even though she is a Brown Sussex, the new hen glows red in the sunshine and has quickly acquired her name, Ruby. The new Light Sussex is called Elsie after my maternal grandmother who lived most of her life in Sussex and, of course, we already had 'Buffy' (Buff Sussex) and Mrs Speckles (Speckled Sussex). Neither of the Marans have yet been given names, but it will happen sooner or later. At a loss for a name for the Light Sussex Cockerel, I googled for 'Famous Men from Sussex'. A lot of the famous men from Sussex had very ordinary names but one stood out – Aubrey Beardsley – so the new cockerel is Aubrey – he can't draw as well as the original but I'm sure he'll turn out to be just as much a rebel, in his own way! As with most animals I find the chickens endlessly fascinating and entertaining and had to laugh when Elsie showed off her latest 'trick' – chasing off the cheeky sparrows that try to steal their corn! So far, she hasn't chased the jackdaws but as she is not much bigger than them at the moment she is probably biding her time and practising on the smaller thieves first!

Many years ago I gave an impromptu talk to my Women's Institute called 'Poultry keeping for the Uninitiated' (I found the scribbled notes only a few days ago). At the beginning of July I was invited to attend their celebration evening commemorating 100 years of the WI, where I met so many ladies that I haven't seen for five years. In the course of the evening's chat it turned out that several members still remembered this talk and also another one I did (usually when the booked speaker failed to turn up – luckily, a fairly rare occurrence!) about my sheep, entitled 'Baarbara, the Lost Sheep'. I was absolutely amazed that they could still remember them and with enjoyment, too, so perhaps I should give the brain cells a bit of a dust off and get on the WI Speaker circuit to talk about my travels around the UK!

Cake!

My baking for the Country Market is not going too well at the moment (I have now been to 5 markets) as I don't seem to sell a great deal but I do seem to keep buying plants, therefore spending the profits I haven't made! So far I have made cookies (can't call them biscuits as they then become liable for VAT, apparently!) scones, chelsea buns and bread rolls. The cookies can be made in advance but the scones and bread products really need to be baked on the day. As I have to be at the market by about 8.00am and it is twelve miles away, I am getting up at 5.30am to do the baking! I always said that I could make scones in my sleep...... and I can! I don't really have any high-value items to sell – the rhubarb and ginger pies that I made two weeks ago didn't sell at all and ended up in the freezer. They will get used by me eventually, but that's not the point of the exercise. I have realised that it is impossible to predict what will sell well at the market each week – usually we sell out of the savoury items quite quickly, but this week there was loads of stuff left but hardly any cakes. It is a good place to 'people watch' as there are some definite characters who come in regularly and overheard conversations are often amusing. Have you noticed how, when standing behind a table selling 'stuff' people stop seeing you, as they concentrate on the items for sale? I realise that I have been guilty of this over the years, so now try and make a point of smiling and saying 'Hello' to stall holders. Overheard this week - “I had some of that shortbread last week – it was too sweet, but I'll have some of that millionaire's shortbread”!! (In case you don't know – millionaire's shortbread is shortbread biscuit covered with caramel and then topped with melted chocolate) How I kept a straight face as I served her, I don't know.

My little 'S' hook

I did venture to the Glastonbury Country Market, which is held on a Tuesday in the Town Hall, as I had been told that they were desperate for bakers, too. The venue is much lighter and more spacious than the one at Somerton and the goods on offer are quite different. For a start there is a lot more in the way of craft items for sale – paintings, hand-felted pictures, wood-turning and a young lad who taught himself the basics of blacksmithing by watching videos on YouTube and has now landed a place at agricultural college to continue perfecting his new-found skill! I was so impressed that I bought a very pretty 'S' hook from him for not much money – give him a couple of years and I won't be able to afford his pieces! There was also a lady who was spinning and selling yarn and knitted products – I could do that at Somerton, perhaps. The food stall was also quite different in the range of products it had – a lot more vegetarian snacks and ready meals and not much in the way of cakes. I don't know whether that is because of the 'alternative' nature of Glastonbury or whether it is because they are very short of bakers – I may need to make further enquiries. It was certainly an interesting morning, made more so by the fact that the ordinary weekly market was taking place outside in the High Street and there were some very interesting people walking about. I do think that perhaps Glastonbury has become a parody of itself in recent years as no-one seems to dress 'normally' there and nearly all of the shops have a mystical theme, be it fairies, dragons, Native American or Pagan. Don't get me wrong, I still love going there but it can be a bit overwhelming.

As you can tell, I have got past my downward blip, for the moment, and am trying to feel more upbeat about my new lifestyle – as Jeni always says “It'll be fine!”.

A life more ordinary

It's been a strange couple of months since I last wrote a 'proper' blog and, during that time, I seem, inadvertently, to have settled down.

At the beginning of May I was approached, out of the blue, by my estate agents who had had an enquiry about buying my cottage. It wasn't on the market at the time but the guy had obviously noticed it when it was on the market very briefly in October last year and had made a note of the agent's name. He seemed like the ideal purchaser: in rented accommodation, so no nasty chain; able to wait the two months that it would take for me to give my tenant notice and; obviously, very keen on the cottage. We negotiated and eventually agreed a price and then he had a survey done. I can't fault the thoroughness of his surveyor but it was unfortunate that he chose to say that the roof needed renewing 'sooner rather than later'. (Admittedly, my surveyor twelve years ago had mentioned that the roof could do with renewing, but I chose to ignore his advice!) We tried to renegotiate the deal with me dropping the price by a further £4,500 to £10,000 less than the original asking price but I think the guy expected me to cough up for the entire cost of a new roof and I wasn't prepared to do that. In hindsight I should probably have done the deal and got shot of what I should rename 'Millstone Cottage', but I was feeling stubborn at the time!

Looking across the main lake

Mick, of the salad leaf business across the road, has been really good about giving me gardening contacts and, through him, I landed a temporary job as the lowliest gardener of the team that works for Sir Cameron Mackintosh at his estate in south Somerset. For two weeks I spent four days a week, eight hours a day, weeding in the most beautiful gardens in an idyllic spot. (They are reputed to be the best gardens in private hands in the UK) It was tough going, physically, and by the end of the two weeks my back ached, my hands ached and I was completely shattered but the gardens were so lovely that I would gladly have gone back for more, but I was only filling in for a lady who had broken her wrist and also to get the gardens looking tip top for a series of visits from private groups to raise funds for charity. I can only hope that, if they need help in the future, they will think of me and give me a ring. The Head Gardener was a young man who won Young Horticulturist of the Year 2013 and he was so enthusiastic and ran everywhere! He kept telling me that what I was doing was 'awesome' and I kept wanting to tell him that it was just weeding and any idiot could do it, but it was nice to be appreciated! I crawled about on my hands and knees in shrubberies and threaded my way between herbaceous perennials in the Birch Walk, I hand--weeded the gravel in the Lower and Upper Cloisters and along the driveway, and then spent one afternoon helping to barrow loads of shredded bark around the main lake to renew the pathways. By the end of that exercise I was definitely feeling my age, especially as the other people involved were all probably half my age!

Before weeding....

I have also picked up two other gardening jobs via Mick, both of which appear to be ongoing – one will, eventually, be monthly and the other is fortnightly. Because the first garden had got a little out of hand I have actually been there four times in the last month and each time she pays my invoice I think 'That's two more bottles of Calor Gas!' and squirrel it away for the cold, hard days of winter!!

... after weeding

Another new venture has been baking for the Somerton Country Market. These Country Markets used to be the old WI Markets and can be found in many towns and villages the length and breadth of the country. Each market has different members, who pay the princely sum of 5p to join, and they sell all sorts of goodies. For instance, the Somerton market has a woodworker who comes every week ( and another one who does woodturning and comes once a month), a handicraft table full of knitted, sewn and crocheted items, a very comprehensive plant stall, a bake stall -both savoury and sweet, fruit and veg, fresh meat and eggs and a table with a huge variety of jam, pickles, chutneys and preserves. If I hadn't had the amazing success selling baked goodies to the boat people on the Oxford Canal, I never would have had the confidence to give it a go and, after reading the 173 page manual of all the 'do's and don'ts', I did wonder if perhaps I had been a tad over ambitious! I have now been to three markets, so it is early days, and the jury is still out as to whether I continue in the long term or not. I tend to bake on Fridays as the market is on Saturday so, if you're ever passing on a Friday you might receive gifts of misshapen cookies or fruit cake that has sunk slightly!

Thinking ahead and anticipating a requirement for an ongoing supply of eggs, I bought some young hens from the lady that I farm sit for just outside Bristol. I have two Sussex hens (one Light and one Buff) and two Marans (one Copper Blue and one Cuckoo) and, when I went back a couple of weeks ago to do an overnight farm sit I came back with two Araucanas and an Araucana cockerel. Oh, and did I mention the two-year old Speckled Sussex that I got to be company for Mary's old rescue hen? They are great fun to watch as they are allowed to free range in the afternoons and have recently discovered the muck heap where they scratch about for ages, scoffing worms. I am anticipating some very tasty eggs by the end of the summer. The Speckled Sussex (Mrs Speckles) already lays an egg nearly every day. One day I thought she was looking rather unwell as she was only walking around for a little while and then lying down and looked generally uncomfortable. I only realised what the problem was when I opened the gate back into the yard where the hen house is and she lifted up her skirts and ran straight to her laying box – she was desperate to lay an egg and had been unable to get into the house! Needless to say, if she hasn't laid before she goes off free-ranging in the afternoon, I now make sure that the gate to the chicken house is left open.

The chooks!

When I first decided to slow down the WWOOFing and rent a property back in Somerset I envisaged having a couple of weeks at 'home' and a couple of weeks WWOOFing but, because I need to earn some money, I have had to take on some jobs and clients expect you to be available on a regular basis so, going away every couple of weeks is really not an option. I don't seem to be able to hit on a happy medium and have rejoined the 'real' world with a bit of a jolt! I suppose the ideal would be to do gardening jobs all summer to get some capital behind me and then WWOOF in the winter. However, there is one small snag to this plan – very few people need WWOOFers in the winter in the UK! Aha! I hear you all cry – WWOOF abroad in the winter then, but I really don't think I have the courage to try that, so here I am, stuck in a muddle of my own making with more responsibilities than I wanted and no obvious way out.

Sadly, one of the other drawbacks to this more settled lifestyle is that I no longer feel that I have anything interesting to write about and my blogs will become fewer and further apart until they dry up completely! Sorry, everyone, I'm finding life a wee bit challenging at the moment – hopefully I will bounce back soon.

Ephemera

Today I opened Pandora's Box

Lifted the lid on my 'Memory Chest'

and was washed away by a tidal wave,

borne back over years to the very beginning.

It was all there, my life,

stretched like elastic, pulling me back.

Old photos: sullen child on a beach;

Happy child with a dog;

Shy, on my first day at 'big school';

Provocative sixth former, posing with friends.

Letters and writings: the school magazine;

Snippets of poetry, both mine and my brother's;

'Billets doux' and notes from men I had loved;

A cork inscribed 'Grand Union, 1990'

Engulfed, I floundered through flotsam and jetsam

Looking for something that I could grasp hold of,

Something to anchor me, bring me back to the present.

My children, my constants:

Every card ever made, ever sent down the years;

School Reports and Awards;

Cub caps and school shirts;

Photos from First School to later teen years.

Projects and scrapbooks and all sorts of things.

Damaged by damp, they are sad relics of life

But, the memories are forever bright in my head.

I take out things for the children

Close the lid

Light the match.

Ephemera.

Walks with Woody (and other excursions)

Woody and me at Maesbury iron-age hill fort

Today marks the anniversary of the commencement of my WWOOFing adventure 5 years ago but, instead of doing a summing-up of my previous year I have decided to get up-to-date with my general blog. I have called this blog 'Walks with Woody' because I rather liked the alliteration, but there has been a lot more than that going on recently.

Rabbit proof fence panels

Once back in Somerset I set to with a vengeance to make my rabbit-proof fencing as everything in the greenhouse had doubled in size whilst I was away! My friend thinks the whole idea is ludicrous as I have spent quite a lot on buying treated timber battens, 1” square weld mesh, fence posts, etc to guard a vegetable garden which will eventually be about 24 feet long by 12 feet wide and contain one raised bed 20 feet long by 6 feet wide and a few assorted pots and containers. But, as I pointed out to her, it will help to keep me occupied when I am 'at home'. I have made friends with a chap who rents some land on the other side of the main road on which he has constructed several raised beds and a polytunnel and is now growing salad leaves commercially. I spent a few hours one Friday morning picking leaves for a local restaurant and, in return, Mick gave me a huge bag of salad leaves, some rhubarb and sea kale – one day he may be well-established enough to pay me in money but, until then, I shall never have to buy salad again!

On Friday, 1^st May, Jeni and I donned some 'decent' clothes and headed off to my friends' handfasting ceremony which was held in their garden on top of the Mendips at Binegar. They have been together for many years but finally decided to make it all legal, and the handfasting was just the beginning of a weekend of celebration which Jeni and I were privileged to attend. Unfortunately, the weather was not as kind as it could have been and our flimsy summer clothes were no match for the cold wind that was blowing atop Mendip. However, the ceremony itself was lovely with Karen and Ade being 'handfasted' (literally having their hands bound together) with strings of ivy, before jumping the broomstick and also a cauldron of hot coals! This ceremony has its roots back in antiquity when the poor of the parish could not afford to pay the priest to marry them in church and so, with all their friends and family as witnesses, they 'tied the knot' and jumped the broomstick to begin their lives together. It felt very special to be part of such an age-old custom.

A lovely cake for a lovely couple

On Sunday the actual marriage took place and, because the Shepton Registry Office is in the throes of moving and the Wells Town Hall venue was unavailable due to the upcoming elections, the Registrar was able to perform the ceremony in the marquee that had been set up just along the road from their home, on land belonging to some good friends. Karen had requested that everyone (both male and female) wore hats to the ceremony and had then provided clothes pegs around the marquee on which we could hang them, if we wanted to. Respecting Karen's wish that we post no photos on the internet of the actual ceremony and guests, I have taken the liberty of including a couple of general shots from the day. I didn't know many people there although, over the years, Karen had mentioned most of them so it was good to put names to faces at last. One person that I did know, however, was my old work mate, JP, who was over from Ireland especially for the ceremony and had brought his lovely new partner, Nina. What a treat it was to catch up with him again after so many years.

Festive bunting and hats

On Bank Holiday Monday I drove to my Mum's in Cheltenham prior to us going on holiday the following day. We set off for Port Eynon on the Gower Peninsula just after 10.00am and met up with Mum's friend, Meg and her daughter, Deb, at a beach just south of Bridgend for a picnic lunch. Well, although the day was bright and dry there was a stiff breeze (strong wind!) blowing in off the sea so that our salad was in severe danger of blowing away so Mum and I retreated to the car to eat ours. Afterwards Mum and I went for a walk to stretch our legs and investigate a walled garden (I am such a sucker for walled gardens!) that was just along the beach and was the sole surviving part of a large house called Dunraven Castle. This beautiful-looking stately home (from the photos on the information boards) was demolished in 1962 as there was no perceived use for it! Criminal! It would have made an amazing hotel or holiday apartments – why did so much destruction of fine buildings take place in the 1960s?

Having lost our bearings around Port Talbot, and seen rather too much of that town, we finally arrived at our holiday cottage at just gone 4.00pm and joined Meg and Deb in the pub, which was just across the road. We ate there that night and the food was surprisingly good plus they served Thatcher's Gold cider on tap, so I was happy. The cottage itself was done out very stylishly – not an old lobster pot or carved seagull anywhere! - and was very well-equipped. There were four bedrooms and three bathrooms so we hardly got in each other's way at all and it had been a well-priced bargain for a mid-week break. From there, for the next couple of days, we explored as many of the beaches and bays that we could drive to and managed to get Meg, who uses a 3-wheeled walker, down onto a couple of them. I had never been to the Gower before and thought it absolutely beautiful with its long, sandy beaches, narrow lanes and abundance of wild flowers – I don't think that I have ever seen so much wild garlic growing anywhere before – the woods were carpeted with it!

Port Eynon, Gower, South Wales

We came back on the Friday, calling at Aberdulais Falls at Neath, to break our journey, look around the old tin works and have some lunch in the old schoolroom and then, on Saturday, I headed back to Somerset where I weeded the vegetable garden, packed my car and headed off to Binegar to house/dog sit for Karen and Ade while they went to Cornwall for their honeymoon.

Woody is a Border Terrier crossed with a Jack Russell Terrier and is a lovely little chap. He always gets very excited when I visit so I was a bit concerned when I opened the front door and he didn't even come to see me or bark at my arrival. I can only think that he had seen Karen and Ade packing and was upset that he'd been left behind – I don't think they've ever left him before. However, we soon settled down together and he took me for a lovely walk around the village that afternoon. I say 'he took me' because, as we walked along the lane near the house, we passed one public footpath sign, which he ignored but, when we got to the next public footpath sign he got very excited and pulled me off along it! We crossed a field and clambered over a stile into another little lane and walked along this, passing under a disused railway bridge, before coming out on a lane I recognised and making a circular walk back to the house.

The next day was dry with some sunshine but a really cold wind. I had looked at the Ordinance Survey map of the area and decided to visit Maesbury Castle, an iron-age hill fort, which was a short car journey away. Woody sat as good as gold as we drove the couple of miles to a pull-in that I had noticed at the side of the road, and then we clambered over a stile and walked steadily uphill until we reached the hill fort. The earth bank ramparts are still really impressive, particularly from the outside where they are about 20 feet high, in places. From the top of the bank there is a 360 degree panorama and, on a clear day, you can see to the Quantocks in the South, the Bristol Channel to the West, the Cotswolds to the North and Wiltshire to the East – an amazing defensive position. It was a bit hazy but the view was still spectacular and Woody enjoyed himself trying to dig for moles and rabbits, which obviously abound up there.

Weather changes so rapidly on Mendip – the following day was hot and cloudless with hardly any wind and we spent some time in the garden. Later in the afternoon I decided to take our last walk together along a lane in the village, along some footpaths across farmland and back into the village further down the hill before returning to the house and, perhaps, calling in on Karen and Ade's friends in their beautiful cottage on the corner. However, things did not go according to plan! I took the map with me (always a good idea) and we set off happily enough along the lane. It was very pleasant walking in the dappled shade with bees and flies buzzing about and the bluebells nodding on the grass verge. Eventually we came to the track that was marked on the map as the start of our footpath walk. It looked like someone's driveway but soon widened out into what had once been a sizeable lane. At the end of this green lane we came out onto a farm track and this was where our problems started. We walked up the track towards the farm and were directed, quite firmly, by a man in a tractor, away from the track and through a field gate. 'Go through the gate, turn right and across the field', he said, so that was what we did. Unfortunately, the only gate out of the field was back onto the track on the other side of the farmhouse and was tied shut. It also had weld mesh cladding on one side (and this is important in the story) so, while Woody scrambled under the barbed wire fence, I climbed over the gate and dropped down the other side, as I couldn't climb down because of the cladding. Back on the track we took off again but then I realised that it was veering away from the direction shown on the map and we soon found ourselves on the disused railway line – not where we were meant to be at all! I did not want to go back the way we had come because I couldn't climb the gate from this side (because of the cladding) and I didn't want to walk through the farmyard and risk being shouted at by an angry farmer on a tractor! I made the (foolish) decision to walk along the railway line towards the road, in the hope that we could get out from there. It was not long before I was thigh-high in nettles and brambles and poor little Woody had disappeared in a green jungle that closed over his head. We struggled on for a bit but it was obvious that we would never make it back to the road that way. In the end we slid our way down the embankment, over a barbed wire fence (under in Woody's case) into a field and then through another barbed wire fence into another field that ran alongside the embankment, which we then followed until we reached a lane where, thankfully, there was a gate. We were both hot, tired and I, for one, was tingling all down my legs from numerous stings from the nettles, and scratches from the brambles, and we still had a mile or so to go to reach home. However, the walk along the lane through shady wooded areas restored us both a bit and I was looking forward to calling in at the pub for half a pint of cider, but it looked as if it was still closed as we tramped past and I felt rather disheveled anyway so, nearly three hours after we had jauntily set off on our short walk, we limped home and collapsed in a heap. Well, I did – Woody promptly went off to find a ball in the garden and try to persuade me to play catch!

En route between Somerset and Cheltenham on top of the Cotswolds

Springtime in Cornwall

Spring flowers

My overnight stop in Somerset extended to lunchtime on the following day as I needed to set up my new trays of seedlings, etc in the greenhouse and plant out two rows of garlic, as I had picked up a couple of garlic bulbs that were shooting from Dawn & Tony. I also planted out my potatoes that had been 'chitting' for a few weeks. I was surprised by how much growth the onion sets had put on in my absence but the veg bed is south facing with a rendered block wall behind it so the soil is very warm.

I had a good drive down to Cornwall arriving at about 4pm to be greeted by Jo and James, who were both in the lambing shed, with the words “You're too late, we've finished lambing!” Luckily, they were teasing me, but only just – in the 12 days since they had started lambing 22 of the 34 ewes had given birth! Henry must have been a very busy boy when he first went in with his girls in the autumn!

As Jo and James had both been 'full on' for the previous 12 days and nights I offered to do the late check at about 10.30pm so that they could get a reasonable night's sleep. When I first went out everything seemed quiet and settled but, as I was turning to go back in, I heard a whickering bleat from one of the ewes that was expecting twins. This little low bleat is the noise they use to bond with their lambs once they are born and is sometimes one of the first indications that labour is starting, along with restless pawing at the ground and/or a look of distant thoughtfulness! I managed to get her into a pen on her own and her first lamb was born at 11.25 with the second being born about 20 minutes later. One of the invaluable tips that I have picked up from James is that the sucking reflex is particularly strong in the lambs not long after they are born so, if you can get them to suck before they are even on their own four feet, they usually have no problems locating the teats for themselves later. It is really important that they get a good feed of colostrum in the first couple of hours as it is full of nutrients and antibodies which help protect the newborn lamb from all sorts of nasty-sounding diseases. Once I had made sure that both lambs had had a good feed and I had doused their navels with iodine (another important anti-bacterial precaution) I went to bed.

As it turned out this was one of only two births that I was to witness during my stay – all the others happened off my watch in the middle of the night or in the early morning or when I had a day off and was away from the farm! This was very disappointing as I had gone back specifically to help with the lambing, but I did help with the after care of ewes and lambs and got to spend time watching the lambs gambolling out in the field.

Number 74 - proud mum of twins

I know you are all desperate for news of Number 74! Well, I was anyway. She had been the tenth ewe to lamb (hence the large No 10 on her side in the photo) but James had kept her in the lambing shed so that I could personally congratulate her on the birth of her twins (a boy and a girl!). She condescendingly deigned to take a gift of dandelion leaves from me but did not acknowledge my presence further and was more than happy to join her friends out in the field where her twins soon joined the 'lamb gang'.

At about 8.00am each morning, Carina (a Swedish WWOOFer who was just a bit younger than me) and I went out to help with the daily round of feeding, watering and bedding up the ewes and lambs and then we started work in the vegetable garden. James had been in with the tractor and rotavator but we decided that a system of raised beds might be easier to manage so spent one day building two raised beds about 20 feet long and about 4 feet wide. During my stay I added another two beds to the total although the clay soil became increasingly difficult to dig as the weather turned hot and sunny with day after day of blue skies. I planted some broad beans, runner beans and peas in pots in the greenhouse at the beginning of my stay and they were all just emerging when I left a couple of weeks later. I also weeded the greenhouse beds and planted six tomato plants that Jo bought and a couple of rows of salad leaves. We also got some replacement glass for the two panes that got broken by the wind last year and the one pane that got broken by a stone thrown up by the rotavator – at least that should stop the cats and squirrels going in!

On the first Saturday of my stay I took Carina to the Cheesewring on the edge of Bodmin. This is a natural stack of granite boulders perched precariously one on top of the other on the side of a hill and we scrambled up the steep hillside to see it. The views from the top were far-reaching, barren and a bit hazy but well worth the scramble and the strong wind that whipped around our faces. Afterwards I took her to Looe as I felt she needed to see the sea and partake of a Cornish pasty! I decided to save my pasty until I was back in the car as I don't seem able to walk and eat at the same time, but Carina started eating hers as we walked along. Suddenly there was a flurry of huge wings and a large herring gull mugged her for a bit of pasty! Amazingly, although she gave a small scream, she did not let go of the pasty which I thought showed remarkable courage under fire! You don't realise what big birds they are until they fly into your face! Safely back in the car, we enjoyed our pasties before driving back along country lanes to the farm.

The 40 foot ash tree begins to fall

We had to move the lambs from last year (now called hoggets) to new grazing and also the other group of miscellaneous sheep, so James and I went off in the Landrover to do some chainsawing as a couple of trees had fallen in the field that they were going to. However, before James could saw up the 'fallen' trees we had to get them to fall, as they were resting on the branches of another tree. This is where the Landrover came in – it has a very strong winch on the front. First of all James notched the tree in the direction that he wanted it to fall and then attached the winch cable around the trunk before chainsawing through the rest of the trunk from the other side. At first, the winch started to pull the Landrover up the field but, eventually, after a little more alteration to the position of the strap around the trunk, the tree slowly fell to earth and was cut up for logs. My job was to cut off all the brashy branches and drag them into the wood where they will eventually rot down whilst providing food and homes for lots of invertebrates.

Whilst we were working in this field I was distracted by the sight of some enormous beetles crawling about in the grass. I tried to take some photos (which didn't come out very clearly) as I was quite certain that they were oil beetles which are growing increasingly rare and mainly occur in organically farmed areas. One of them was almost 2” long and the other two, that I saw at the same time, were about 1” long and shone a metallic blue in the sunshine. Beautiful! 

The blue/black oil beetle

As usual, the beautiful timelessness of the farm worked its magic on me and the clear, crisp morning air meant it was never a chore to get up and go outside to wonder at yet another day – the spring flowers were in abundance on all the banks and in all the hedgerows: the daffodils were still blooming in the hazel spinney but had been joined by the first bluebells and there were large primroses everywhere vying with the buttercup-yellow of the celandines, the purple of the violets and the white of the stitchwort. There was even some early pink campion pushing through in places and the pretty pale lilac of lady's smock. What a wealth of beautiful wild flowers we have in this country, if we just know where to look.

The last ewe lambed on April 18^th – 34 ewes, 55 scanned lives and 54 live lambs – a very impressive result. I extended my stay for a week so that Jo and James could go off to visit their two sons and their families, leaving me in charge of rather a lot of sheep – 168, I think. Luckily, I had the trusty quad bike at my disposal as it was a long way down the farm track to the bottom paddock where the miscellaneous flock was and I checked on them twice a day. Also, because the weather continued, for the most part, hot and dry, the hoggets ran out of grass in their paddock along the road so I had to carry bales of hay to them on two days so that they wouldn't be tempted to break out.

On Monday, 26^th April I packed up my car and drove back to Somerset so that I could spend a few days at home before my next adventure.

The 'lamb gang' exploring a fallen oak tree

March 'goes out like a lion'!

The earthworks at Avebury

I was back at home for the partial eclipse of the sun on 20^th March but, due to overcast conditions, nearly didn't get to see it at all but, just at the crucial moment, the sky cleared enough to be able to make out the sun as a crescent-shape through the murk – I don't think my friend's welding goggles were really needed! The weather improved after that so I spent some time tending my new veg bed and planting out my onion sets.

The sleeping 'Horned God'

On Sunday, 22^nd March, as it was such a gorgeous sunny, spring day, Jeni and I decided to head to Avebury and the stone circle as I had never been, even though it only took an hour to get there. I was truly amazed by the number and size of the stones and the huge earthworks that surround them and, what I hadn't realised, the village of Avebury sits inside the stone circle! Jeni's friends Tom and Carly were at the stones with their druid group to welcome in the spring and we were invited to join their celebrations, which was really energising as we had to make a lot of noise to awaken the Horned God, who seemed to be particularly deeply asleep! We all stood in a circle and invited the spirits of the place to join our celebrations and then each one of us had to make a statement “I am.....”. The Priestess kicked off by saying that she was the spirit of the wind and others were birds, flowers, etc. By the time it got round to Jeni and me (we were standing just to the other side of the Priestess) I was beginning to worry about what I could be. Jeni chose to be a butterfly awaking from winter hibernation and, in desperation, I chose to be the earthworm bringing fertility to the soil! Nothing like making a humble statement! I'm sure we must have got some odd looks from the many visitors to the stones that day as we capered and sang to welcome in the season but, when you're 'in the moment' you actually don't notice.

Even if you have not reinvented yourself as an ageing hippie there is a lot to enjoy at Avebury, as the village is very picturesque, the pub serves good food all day and the shop sells non-trashy arts and crafts and very good ice cream! After lunch we set off to walk to Silbury Hill and the West Kennet Long Barrow but hadn't realised they were quite such a distance from the village so, when we drew level with Silbury Hill we climbed up a nearby hill and joined the Stone Avenue back towards the village where we had parked the car.

One of the many standing stones (and me) at Avebury

A day later saw me packing my car again and heading to my friends near Oswestry to look after their property while they went off to Brittany for ten days. They were going a month earlier than usual so I was not quite sure what clothing to pack as the weather can be totally different in Powys to Somerset. I was very glad that I had kept some winter weight clothes in my bag as on the day that they left, it snowed! Luckily it didn't last long but it heralded nearly a week of torrential rain which prevented me from doing much outside. I was also very annoyed that I had forgotten to bring my camera with me (the perils of having a home to leave things in!) as I could have got some 'winter' pictures to turn into this year's Christmas cards.

More or less confined to the house I found that time in the valley slowed to almost a standstill, and that got me thinking. We know, from the War Memorial in the nearby village of Llansilin, that a man from this house died in the First World War and I'm sure that he would still recognise 'his' home if he were to return. Apart from the telephone wires on poles down the valley, the view can't have changed much from when he was here. There is very little intrusion of modern day life into the valley as the lane outside only serves a very few houses and doesn't go anywhere that cannot be reached by a better route, so there are only three or four vehicles daily. In the skies above the high valley sides you can sometimes see vapour trails left by planes on their flights to exotic faraway places and, about twice a year, a helicopter arrives at eye level and practices low flying and hovering for a few minutes.

It was even more silent than usual during my stay this year as it was too early for the farmer to have put out his ewes and lambs in the field opposite. I saw lots and lots of fields of ewes and lambs on my journey but this field is remote from the farm so that the lambs have to be quite well-grown and sturdy before the farmer dares to put them out, as he cannot check on them every day. So, in the mornings when I opened the back door and went outside, the only sounds I could hear were the tremendously diverse birdsong, distant tractor noises, distant dogs barking and the far-off sound of sheep – I might have been living in a different century!

I found it quite hard-going being confined to the house so much but made great strides forward in my latest project – knitting jumpers for an orphanage in Tanzania. Now that I have finished my crochet blanket I needed something else to do in my leisure time, preferably something small enough for me to do without getting bored and simple enough for my pretty mediocre knitting skills. Unfortunately, knitting makes my arthritic thumbs ache quite badly so I can only do a bit at a time and had to intersperse it with reading.

When it did stop raining I managed to clear up and clean out the potting shed ready for another season of vegetable growing and planted up several trays of seeds – both flowers (for Dawn) and vegetables (for Tony). Outside, I weeded several of the raised beds ready for planting out the surprising number of plants that Tony had already got established in the greenhouses and cold frames, and also pulled up many ash seedlings which are threatening to take over the wider garden. In future years we will probably discover that they were the only ash trees that were resistant to 'ash die-back' but they are in the wrong places and therefore, technically, weeds!

I took Jasper, the Miniature Schnauzer, out for a couple of walks in the woods during my stay but, after a very stormy night, I decided to walk down the lane in the opposite direction to avoid fallen/falling trees as it was still very windy and there had been a severe weather warning for the area. It was as we turned for home once more that I noticed a bird flying along the road towards us about 4” off the ground. I expected it to divert or fly upwards when it spotted us but it just kept on coming on its chosen flight path and passed us within inches and disappeared around the bend. I am pretty sure, by the very close look that I got as it shot by, that it was a sparrowhawk – very exciting! I also spent ages one morning looking up a 'mystery' bird of prey that was sitting on the telephone wire down in the valley, until I realised that it was a kestrel – it's been such a long time since I've seen this once-common bird close to that I'd forgotten what it looked like!

Towards the end of my stay the weather suddenly dramatically improved and I was working outside in a T-shirt, so I arrived in winter and left in summer – very weird. As I was missing out on a family Easter in Cheltenham I decided to console myself with a bonfire which I started on Good Friday and kept going until the evening of Easter Sunday! To make sure that I had enough material for the fire I, fairly brutally, cut back some very overgrown shrubs of which there are still an awful lot throughout the garden – I think I could work here full-time and I would still never get to the end of the jobs that need doing!

Annoyed with myself for being without my camera, I suddenly realised that I had video capability with my laptop and webcam so, if you have a few minutes to spare, join me on a wander around the gardens using the following link, it's a bit shaky and not fully in focus but it gives a flavour, I think: http://youtu.be/x9w7xFTkgvI

Once Dawn and Tony were safely back from Brittany on Easter Monday I re-packed my car – now with additional trays of seedlings and some tomato plants from France, that Tony had brought back for me – and prepared to head back to Somerset for an overnight stop en route for Cornwall – again!