Everything’s perked up in the last couple of weeks - daffodils are everywhere (quite literally.. I may have to do something about that once they go over…) and some already flowering profusely (the little ones), crocuses have come up through the lawns and doing much the same, a single, shamelessly pink primrose is brightening up a border next to a few violas, snowdrops have been going strong for a little while now.
Never mind all the flowers, the box and roses have really taken off! Can’t wait to see what one of the red ones does, on the wrought iron fence; it really did nothing last year except produce a couple of misshapen blobs (still very pretty), - and now it is covered in fresh, new, red growth.
Today the large holly finally got it. Another go and it will look quite perfect, instead of being dark, odd, and monolithic. It’s a shame it doesn’t produce berries.
Cooking butternut squash soup with last year’s crop.
Frost overnight, bright sunshine in the day - perfect weather for a mid-winter disturbance of the bees. I’d like to think of it as their Christmas - fondant in the stocking.
Managed to miss one bee which got so cold it slept on me all the way home. Took me by surprise as the kitchen suddenly started buzzing! Off home it goes now!
Waxing an old set of scales and masses, and polishing a multitude of other objects received and acquired, is just not enough. Enter three grotty blow torches (one partially de-grottified by now)!
Lining up the kitchen with festive things with my darling.
Dried fruit, mince pies, and lots of wrapping paper!
Eighty percent of success is just showing up.
That wintery feel is finally upon us and the wood burner had finally received its this season’s inaugural airing! There is little to be done in the garden that is of any urgency - most things can wait at least a couple of months, which is just as well.
Time to plan for next year! (and make fruit and wine jelly)
In search of Mr Kipling 0.1.
In search of Mr Kipling.
Yawn, is it five in the morning? Not yet, drift in and out of a dream. Earliest Tuesday. Rushing around, squeezing into, picking up, boil kettle, out of the door, and down the road. Pile high, convoy out of the front door. Notice the hand-made bell system again and an ore. Will it fit across the ceiling? Lady in her dressing gown. Good-bye, three in a boat. Add 15-and-a-half excited friends. Fill up, I’ll wait five minutes, it’s disgusting. You ought to also. Corner. Up and up to the paddock, pipet you bruiser. Polka dot onwards so fast, proctor playful. I’ll pick it up. Can you see the main road on the horizon? Can you see the cars? Sure. Too much bacon, you look very smart. Room you can live in. Heating water with wood, grand scheme. Now there are five in two boats, friends, waving good-bye to the two left behind. Same map in auction, but no stamp. Onwards.
Half-an-hour to spare, we won’t go in. Alcohol with a fruity twist and a quick walk up a lane. Excited, we better be off to the wind turbines on a hill. Off indeed. Mad rush, crack, hop to the top. Freddie. Long wait in the glorious sun, time to join in. Mad rush. Two from Kent. Twisting ballerinas. Long way back, over the stream and over the gate, round the sheep and round the cows. Friends in, friends gather.
A little bit of unpacking, new chair (bonfire demise), sausages and mash. Blond over the bar. Round and round to see all the pictures. Auction unclear, too rude, and very tired. Eight tired and to bed.
Round next morning. Hurry up an appearance, cushat, red over the horizon - time to go again. Brass jug, top hat, greeting cards, Alnwick, dining, leather cutter, books, and soaked. Mill on the way back - top for nine and quiche (scone and jam). Sunny.
Nude packet, - naughty! Fish and chips for all, best you’ve ever had. Mushy peas and sitting room. Pictures and sculpture, singing.
Very early, hour and a half. Longest private track, drops, sheep. Two shepherds perished in the snow - wire fence at the top, go to the left. No need. Mad rush, cold on the top, spritely wander, mad rush. Are you still there, behind the wood? Nearly everyone left, long day. Mushroom soup with croutons from a man who never cooks, water flask perfect, such happy times! What happened after? Definitely mill, but the hats are no longer supplied. Singing in the car made the week, having fun. Evening meal, taxidermy, more singing. Four on their own, but blissful; joining in with chairs.
No appearance next day, working until 12. Private track, open gates, wall and a fort twice brewed. Beautiful gathering, thank you for picking up. Very tired, slink away, good sleep. They didn’t let him throw out the stopper, - surprisingly sensible.
Very early, at least an hour? Our good-byes, all packed. Retired sheepdog? Friendly concoction. Can’t have that port, nearly half a gallon, I’ll fall. Mad rush up to the top of their separate ways, dropped in a hurry. Mobile on the well, - what a star! Note. Watching the horizon from a white rock, tower, no camera, - such a shame! Thank-you-s all round, glorious weather. You, sweet thing, are not going anywhere. Eager, wrestling, hold on a minute and be quiet. You sweet thing, come with me. Crab apple not so nice, let’s keep going. Sick and a wound - aloe vera cream, shhh. Collapsed on the grass, evoking interest, friend standing on my knee. Lifting up a balloon of a friend; greedy. At least twenty verses, we reckon, - that’ll teach them! Adult lemon treats and tea. See you next week.
Whoever said girls can’t throw…
Sheepdog brings pipe, girl plays with dog. Dog relinquishes pipe, girl launches pipe. Pipe doesn’t go where girl aimed, pipe goes 45 degrees off course and lands 3 meters away from girl (having travelled some impressive distance skywards) in the undergrowth. Dog refuses to fetch pipe after a misleading throw. Dog has look of disapproval. Girl wanders to retrieve pipe. Stung through trousers by nettles five times. Girl skips with dog.