The Enormous Turnip (Pumpkin)

 Everything seems to come down to fairy tales at the minute here! This week I've been remembering one of my very favourite stories from when the strawberries were really very small indeed. We loved the repetition of the list and the final triumph and joy. Why I remembered this one this week was this:

I had promised myself that I would buy the very first pumpkin that I saw this year, not really expecting to find it on the 27th September! Usually they only appear in supermarkets here for Hallowe'en and you need to buy one before they all sell out. But they are never quite as beautiful, or as huge, as this sublime specimen! This is the most wonderful pumpkin I have ever had. It is hugely enormous, and just as perfect. It makes me ridiculously happy. And it was the smallest of the three sitting proudly outside the grocer's shop last Friday!

It has given us lots of pumpkin curry, lots of pumpkin soup and a tray of pumpkin seeds, which I burned. Oops. And you can see from the carving that in fact it could have yielded still more, had I not been worn out from scooping and watching the clock for last night's boy activity taxi run.



Raggedy Elf #2 was fifteen today. When I first started blogging he was pre-school and waddling out the front door of Strawberry Land in his father's too big shoes. I seem to have said, back then in 2009, that I caught a glimpse of what he would be. I think I'm still only cathing glimpses...

Happy Birthday, young man of mine. And happy October to us all. Autumn must surely be the season for which blogging was invented. And in the northern hemisphere, it's here!

Low Sunday and a book plug

On farcebook I've just seen an excerpt from "A Few Green Leaves" by Barbara Pym where it says that the Sunday after Easter is called Low Sunday. Is this indeed true? It must be because we're all going back to work and school tomorrow...


I've had a lovely week off. The strawberries have been revising hard, but we determined everyday to do something out and about. We cycled into town, had lunch on ancient Navan, and marvelled at Tim Peake's Soyuz. And of course Mattman turned sixteen. 16!

I read two great books. I would have read three if I could make any decent progress whatsoever with Michelle Obama's "Becoming". I can manage a chapter a night, sometimes. I'm really not a fan of autobiographies, except for Stephen Fry's "Moab is my Washpot". They must be appalling to write. How could you avoid dry lists, unless you're Stephen Fry?

Anne Enright's "The Green Road" is brilliant. Told from the perspectives of an awful Irish mother, her four children, and a mysterious other who appears intriguingly in the narration at certain baffling points, it impels you to find yourself in the dynamic. I fear the characteristics of the bi-polar mother. The offspring of this banshee most certainly do not arise and call her blessed. On the other hand...


#31blessed is a very recent, self-published little book of which you will only have heard if you're a farcebook friend. I am biased but I think that it is brilliant too. It's been produced as a fundraising project for a friend of ours who works with the Christian organisation UCCF. Sophie supports Christian students' groups in Liverpool and Chester, and encourages them in their outreach. But in and of itself the book is a collection of what 31 women think about the Proverbs 31 Woman.

My friend, Karen, and I are deeply grateful to everyone who contributed, not least the five of you who gave us beautiful reflections. I'm going to blog-thank you properly tomorrow! In the meantime, if you'd like to have a look, here is the link x

First born sun

Twelve words about Mattman:

1. Twelve?
2. Seriously.
3. Best
4. Thing
5. I
6. Ever
7. Grew (with your brother)
8. Perseverer
9. Privately
10. Unbridled
11. Wise
12. Man

 And funny. Very, very funny. When no-one else is looking. And all those new friends who came round tonight? Nice guys, Mattman; good choice xx

ps His mother did not make this cake.
pps Nor can his mother quite believe that she has been blogging all this time.

Views of camellias

 We've been aware of a hint of pink in the top corner of the garden for more than a week, but when we went to investigate we were quite amazed. This camellia bush must have been in flower just before we moved in last year, because we certainly didn't see it then. The pink wool that I bought on Monday is to try a little capture of its finery for my Spring wreath- as yet unstarted!

Below, however, is something mostly finished. Today is Mum's birthday. It's very special to be celebrating her second birthday post-stroke, They have recently had their everything recovered in a most modern tartan- green with brown and white stripes. I used Cute and Easy's camellia pattern and did a 7x10 sleep-under-while-snoozing-on-the-sofa blanket. The wool is Rico merino aran. The crocheting astute among you will realise immediately that this needed another row to finish off the two row repeat! So it's not quite finished, and it's not at all edged!

Mum likes it though. And that's a big relief!

Views, books and decades of the week

 Definitely revelling in Autumn here.

 Definitely wondering if I need to revel in Autumn outside our garden.

 It's just that the novelty of having it all outside the door hasn't quite worn off!

 It's a very good time to be here.

 My baby will have been on the planet for his first decade come Wednesday, so we did lots of celebrating this weekend.

 And I even read two books this week. Admittedly they were both school books borrowed from Miss H's English room!

 I wonder did Morpurgo mean us to be wholly supportive of Tommo? Because I did find him ultimately unadmirable. There was a wonderful moment towards the end of his timekeeping when I wondered had he redeemed himself  by taking Charlie's place. But no.

I've only before this read The Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck. I loved Of Mice and Men just as much. I was harrowed by As Mice and Men just as much. George I did find admirable. Heartbreakingly.

In every bit of honest writing in the world there is a base theme. Try to understand men, if you understand each other you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never leads to hate and nearly always leads to love. There are shorter means, many of them. There is writing promoting social change, writing punishing injustice, writing in celebration of heroism, but always that base theme. Try to understand each other.

 John Steinbeck in his 1938 journal entry

Joe versus the Volcano

Except that here in Strawberry Land,

it's not so much Joe versus the Volcano,

as Jo is the volcano.

Happy Birthday, gorgeous boy. Nine years of wow!

This month

 

Bluebell 1. n /'blu:bel/ a European woodland plant of the lily family, which produces clusters of blue bell-shaped flowers in Spring.

 

Bluebell 2 n. /'blu:bel/ where bread and cakes are made and happiness always shines.

 

 

Dear Bluebell Cafe in North Belfast,

Thank you very much for the pot of hot and much needed tea this morning. You were an oasis of sit down and think about nothing in the middle of a celebrate-birthdays-filled month. I do come in now and again for one of your amazing sandwiches and then I take it next door where I get my hair cut and I eat it there, breathing in the moments of manic-free hair product.

Today I had some time before moving next door and I sat down to wonder at the clock made of tea-cups, and wall of funny signs like the one above, and the trio of folk at the table next to mine. That was one fascinating bunch! I wonder did the lady on the right begin to see her partner's money as her own?

I am three birthday celebrations through out of four this month, with the Spring Ball tomorrow night, and we had an impromptu theatre trip last night. Normal stay-at-home service will be resumed soon, but this morning I just needed tea!

Thank-you!

Mags x

Greatitudes 647 - 654

Eight big thanks for eight big years of Jo.  We've reached the end of three days of celebrating, and yes, there were three cakes. I made (not this) one!  Praising hard tonight for the child who sings incessantly and sucks the marrow from life.  Deeply thankful that he survived that night of asthma attack, and that he has feeling right to the tips of every finger that the plastic surgeon was confident would move but not feel.  At his baptism service we asked for the first chapter of Joshua, but have been constantly amazed that at every turn this boy really has been strong and very courageous.

We went to the Zoo today and counted everything in eights.  PC managed 8 elephants' ears.  Mine included 8 still blooming rhododendron heads, 8 feathers and 8 hungry pelicans.  Jo counted 8 penguins swimming, 8 planks of wood, 8 cow spots and some others. I have to say that Mattman counted everything and anything from 8 shoes on us to 8 sitatunga (antelopes?) and 8 hairs on the biggest pig I have ever seen in my life.

It's good to know that our years, however many, are safe in the hands of the one who knows exactly how many hairs there are on all our heads.

Big Bumper Birthday Weekend: Day One of Three

This is not my Jo! This fine (human) specimen is another mother's son, and I cannot begin to tell you what an amazing job she has done. Mostly because I don't know it, except in part.

I met Aaron, not having met the tortoise at all, when he was in a Youth Fellowship where I was helping to facilitate a Peace programme. This was shortly after the Frozen North got The Peace. Now he is cycling back home from Istanbul to Belfast. The tortoise whom he has met en route has inspired a short story for children and for all those who have ears to hear.

He's the sort of guy you'd love your own suns to meet and chat to some day, maybe when they're a bit older.  Old enough to catch the call. Two days away from being eight is still a bit young for intercontinental cycling, but not for the tortoise story!  I think you'd all love his blog.

Today we took thirteen boys to play pirate golf, and then discovered that there were in fact fourteen. One day down; two to go!

Greatitudes 608 - 620

Sun, finally! And enough to be slightly sunburnt even with P20! Sand, sea, surf. Well, not enough surf actually, so on our second day at the coast we took the canoe. Having the coast only an hour's drive away. Knowing now that Portrush is the renaissance town of the north, and you don't have to avoid it as you have done for most of the suns' summers! Suns. Strawberry suns. Sunsets. Suns who will play rugby/dig holes/ stay more or less amicably awake long enough for you to see the whole sky illuminated. Samsung new surprise birthday present camera. Still much to learn thereof!

Solo summer surviving: Day One

Young Photographers of the Day

So, yesterday was Day One of the Summer Holidays, but I'm only patting myself on the back for the days when it's solo mum, due to PC keeping this thankfully-not-as-yet-leaking-in-the-rain roof over our heads.

We all went volunteering as is my wont on a Friday morning, then dumped a large thing at the Dump, then went to the Library to return non-overdue books (another pat on the back there, Mags), and then drove home through the rain for lunch.

Then a small friend came to play, so I took not two but three boys to the pool for a swim. If you can't beat the wet, join it. After an obligatory cafe stop we didn't visit a friend as planned and we didn't go to buy the balloons for Uncle William's fortieth birthday dinner that evening. Instead boys were delivered back home/to their father who was helping set up technical music things at the local community festival night, and I went to buy birthday balloons for Uncle William's fortieth birthday dinner that evening.

Did you know that there is a world helium shortage? There is, apparently, a world helium shortage. This is not good when both your mother and your newly forty year old brother's wife are expecting you to provide the fortieth birthday dinner balloons that evening. Oh well.

Then we went to Uncle William's forthieth birthday dinner, via the local community festival night. Then we came home late and went to bed. Where Mattman proudly read me bedtime tales from his P5 Writing Book. "Try not to start every sentence with Then". Maybe they'll make better photographers...

Greatitudes 542 - 570

It generally all boils down to boys and buns here! Admittedly for most of the last week it has been about nothing much more than boys and bugs (of the tummy variety) but we are now all most well. And that is an extremely good thing. But otherwise there is nothing, still as yet nothing, quite as calming to a houseload of sun-filled, sun-stoked suns and other people's suns than a batch of buns and a table load of icing and things. This is another extremely good thing while it lasts. Friends of suns are also an extremely good thing. That's fabulous when going well. So well done to Troubled Sun for being nearly at the end of a trying year on the suns of other people front. I may have been a little bit blank to one of these people at the level crossing hiatus today. This is not an extremely good thing.

When do buns become cupcakes anyway? Is it when they are properly iced and enormous and you could look at them for a long time before daring to eat- with a small fork, obviously. We had lots of those, not made by me, at last week's Mums in May. Now this is a huge source of gratitude on my part. I managed to organise a Mothers' Union event. Phew. Slightly absolved after a year of inept muddling! More gratitudes- people came and brought friends, they all brought more food, they must each have donated double the suggested amount for the work of Irish MU, the sun shone and shone and shone! The sun has in fact just stopped shining, which is nearly a tiny relief given that we are people of a frozen clime and a fortnight of South of France temperatures is definitely more than Calvinists deserve!

Are YWAM folk Calvinists? I didn't get much of a grasp of the work they were doing out and about this week. We were hosting a little family, so Strawberry Land was wholly concerned with falling in love with Layna! Layna discovered Charlie and Lola, which was a fine excuse for me to sit down and revel in Lauren Child. Not that I ever need much of an excuse... Such a novelty to have a house full of something other than boys and buns.

Now the above illustrates what happens when actual cakes become cup cakes! We have decadently celebrated two Bean Birthdays in the last fortnight. We don't physically go to the Bean Coffee Shop for birthdays anymore- we take the birthday to crafting person's home and invade it and put up the personalised banners and eat the personalised cakes by Lorna, and eat all the other food we've brought as well. Sometimes we hook. Usually we just eat. It's like having your eighth birthday all over again, except that your brother doesn't pull your hair, or your best friend run off with your new Sindy. And you get to blow out the candle without having to light it again for your children. I love it! Happy Birthdays, Niqi and Cathy!

Hooray- the Willows have not only arrived safely at Carolyn's glorious place of Mess, Muddle and Fun, but they are exploring the Lake District too. Do visit and comment!

Now finally, Thrifty Thursday has a confession for the group. She has been most careful during this Year of Living Small, and it has indeed been a time of living very large in the wonderful provision of He who provides, and in the kindness of friends. She has shopped locally and cannily and kept within budgets. She has made do and tried to mend! She has used everything to hand, and has moved in an environmentally responsible manner. However. Due to the very wonderful amount of substitute teaching that she was given at just the right times, and having helped pay some big bills and taken the strawberries away at Easter for PC's birthday, Thrifty made a spontaneous decision. Do you remember those? You used to do them before you had children. Maybe you don't recall. It certainly took Thrifty by surprise, but believe me, given the right opportunity, you would be amazed at how fast you could text back simply, "Yes." No thought required!

Tune in next week. I'll be there before you, Willows!