Christmas Wreaths

Last Friday I finally learned the correct technique for constructing a Christmas wreath.

My previous efforts had constituted of the random stuffing of twigs and white heather into an old wreath ring we found in the charity shop.  It could be argued that I needed only to log on to the Web and find a tutorial, but a class was much more satisfying.

The event was free, courtesy of Lancashire's Adult Learning Service.  What a privilege to walk to my library for an afternoon session with my 'library buddies' - some of the friends and neighbours with whom I regularly knit and natter or do art.

All we were told bring was greenery, gloves and secateurs.

I think my first lesson was that you need plenty of foliage.  Fortunately the ladies with large gardens had been out with loppers to bring larch, laurel, yew, holly, ivy, pyracantha and the like.  I had done a little judicious trimming of a variated evergreen with some holly and ivy.  But there was more than enough to share.

I enjoy being taught a new skill.  It is over twenty years since I graduated with my PGCE FE but I appreciate the way good adult tutors stage the lesson, pay attention to individual learners, vary the pace and send us all away with a finished product. I welcome the encouragement of the tutor and of the others in the class.  As I get older this exchange of views and support has become more significant for me.

I did carry my large wreath home (in the rain).  I also scooped up the trimmings I had brought with me so that I could secure them, in bunches of three, around the 'charity shop' ring with its decorations.  

So now we have two wreaths, hung in place outside the porch by my husband with strict orders not to touch.  I am pleased with my handiwork.

November Sunflower Heads

This autumn we let our front garden sunflowers go to seed and left them in the ground.  We were rewarded by bluetits and other members of the tit family flying quickly up to them from our neighbours' beech hedge.  I would not have thought bluetits able to extract seeds from the heads but a litter of seed cases on the patio proves me wrong.  They seem to prefer sunny days and I have not noticed them in the recent frosts.

However, this morning I did notice the long-tailed tits descend in a little flock on the blackcurrant bushes which I had recently pruned.  I was cautious this year and did not remove as much old wood as previously so there were plenty of perching places for these lovely birds to land and hop along the branches picking at any surviving insects.  

The giant sunflowers by the back hedge continued to flower in the warm start to this month but are now well and truly over, but I think the heads are not sufficiently dry for the back garden bluetits to attempt them.

The male blackbird is eating the red berries of the cotoneaster that comes over our fence from the neighbours.  

I shall not be buying any bird food quite yet.

Chutney

 Chutney added spice to our lives when we were living in Chingford.  Our apple trees and damson trees produced superbly and in the small boxy kitchen of a 1980s maisonette I made jars for sale to our gardening customers.  Most of them expressed a preference for traditional apple and raisin.

It has been a decade since I tried chutney.  This year there was a search for clean jam jars as I have been chucking them into the recycling bin in a campaign against clutter.  I managed to find four and made a variation on plum chutney using wild greengage-like plums (removing the stones was a chore) and our own apples.  We had to wait three weeks before it matured, but it was worth the wait.  I had not lost the knack.  I enjoy the continuous stirring with the wooden spoon, waiting for the mixture to set and the moment when I perilously lift out the clean warm jars from the oven and start spooning it in.  The whole house is filled with the scent of fruits and vinegar.

The following batch was green tomato.  Again the hunt for jars, locating three and halving the recipe's quantity.  There was just enough because we have eaten or given away almost every tomato we have grown.

My next goal is apple butter.  The high winds have been bringing down windfalls from our stout Scotch Bridget and passers-by seem drawn to a tray of red Discovery rather than this good dual-purpose apple.  Perhaps the neighbourhood is blessed with Bramleys.  So, off to the shops for sugar and lemons, to boil and sieve and boil once more in an afternoon filled with fragrance.

Rain Showers

We were walking with friends in Hawarden.  The grounds of this country estate are given over to sheep that graze on the gentle slopes among the mature trees.  I was puzzled to see that the lower branches of the limes had been stripped of leaves to a certain height above the ground.  At first I thought it was a caterpillar infestation and then I realised that this summer's rainfall was so low, and the pastures so dry that the sheep had been stretching up to eat the leaves. 

That was a fortnight ago and we have been welcoming pulses of rain passing over our garden from the west.  The lawn that my husband cut by hand once the wildflowers were over has recovered its green.  He no longer has to pour water over the runner beans at night and has frozen several batches.  I am still using grey water for the apple trees, but as a matter of principle rather than necessity.  In the September light and shade with the clouds passing overhead it feels as if the summer drought never happened.  

But it did.  Water levels have still fallen in our local reservoirs.  I check them midweek.  Pennine Sources are the closest and at the lowest percentage. We have fond memories of twenty years ago above Rivington picking whinberries.  I wonder if they got a chance to swell up this season. 

At this uncertain time I am so grateful that we have been here for ten years.  That gave us space to experiment and to discover what grows best.  It gave our apples time to put roots deep down into the clay.  It showed me how to position and sow containers for salad and my husband how to make the optimum use of his greenhouse.  In every season there are successes and failures - surprisingly the front garden winter squash did not enjoy the heat, the peas took several efforts to germinate.  But the sunflowers are putting on a late show and the zinnias have done well.

Things can be done with patience, persistence and time.  I hope we get more time.  

In Clover

Yesterday afternoon, during a sunny period, I stood in the back garden and for the first time this year caught the scent of clover.

We had let our grass go uncut for 'no mow May' and as a consequence the buttercups and daisies and the long grasses were able to bear the weeks of what until recently was classified as 'drought'.  Since the weather broke the clover under the apple trees has flowered.  Now I am reminded of summers in my childhood - sunshine and showers and rushing out to sunbathe for ten minutes before clouds came over the sun.

The rain has been good for some of our crops - the chard and kale that my husband pricked out into a raised bed, the beet spinach that he sowed from seed which is now up and doing better than my usual efforts.

The runner beans are slow to flower; peas and French beans are extremely slow to germinate inside or out.  Slugs are eating my sunflowers which I planted out too early in the sun.  Time to sow another batch. 

Every year presents a different challenge.  Last year the squashes took their time.  This year they are thriving in their very expensive sheep's wool compost.

We are blessed to have such a variety of vegetables and salads to sow and to be surprised by what succeeds year by year.  

A grain of mustard seed

 Seven days ago I sowed some this year's salads in the 'salad crib' and now, after the refreshing rain, they have all sprouted - red mustard, mizuna and rocket (Wasabi) the latter the smallest seeds of rocket that I ever recollect sowing.

They were tiny - smaller than the heads of the 1950s steel pins in my sewing box - and I took special care to sow them thinly as instructed.  The red mustard and the mizuna by contrast were easy to hold in the creases of my palm.

Yesterday afternoon I got out the seed box and found the flower seeds from last year's opened packets.  I went to the potting shed and sowed Limnanthes, Cosmos, Zinnia, wallflowers (saved), sunflowers (saved and new) and foxgloves.

The foxglove seeds from last year's packet, were like so many fine particles of dust and easily crushed.  I gently took apart their foil packet so that I would not lose a single one.  I wait to see how many are able to germinate.

Last year's foxgloves, as tended by my husband, are now growing strongly in the border ready to flower in pastel pinks, yellow and cream in the coming summer months.