First weekend in September

Here is the Hurricane Tree. It's right outside the kitchen window, and above it's outside Mattman's bedroom window which is where we stood ? years ago when Hurricane Ophelia blew through, relatively kindly as it turned out. We thought we could track the strength of the storm by how bare the tree would get hour by hour. It didn't! So here is the tree in the first weekend of September. I imagine month by month bare is exactly what it will get. And I am really very happy to see the first few orange leaves and to feel that different coolness in the air and to hear the crisper rustling in the branches that whispers Autumn. Is it too early to get the pumpkins out?

I'm also very very very happy that my little pear tree has THREE pears this year. It has only ever had one pear per year, and that only twice. So this is a rich harvest indeed. I am very excited. I am less excited about the potential broccoli harvest. Mattman and I joined the home produce enthusiasm over Lockdown, but I have to admit that growing food has never been my success, and if we get one head of skinny broccoli, we will count ourselves lucky indeed.

And because of a blessing in my school's timetabling on Friday, Prince Charming and I got a walk all to ourselves on Friday, and it was sublime. A bright blue sky sort of a day with coast and tides and blackberries and muddy paths and languid cows and fields of corn. It was good to be right out of the city, after two weeks back in school with masks and visors and a circuitous one-way system, and to walk far and wide with lungs full of clean and healthy air.

And so, fine blogland folk, blessings on your September. Here's what I'll be at:

What I'm reading: Psalms; Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo; Lilies for Gretchen, finally.

What I'm making: a tartan mask for my Scotland loving about to be 80 years of age father; Cushla's Comfort, a blanket in a secret colour; the Hookery Shawl, which only advances by six rows a week at my Hookery Crochet group which has been meeting in Zoom for six months now.

What I'm doing: getting used to us all being back at school (see Psalm 91); still thinking about signing up for an online course, deadline this Thursday; outdoor swimming in Belfast Lough with Jordanstown Lough Swimmers, and wondering if I can keep that up into October...

Happy Autumn  (let's all be like trees flourishing in the house of the Lord, whether we're back there physically or not, and whether they grow out of our heads or not) x

 

In which our protagonist puts her hope in a tomato plant

 Way back when last I wrote we were in quite some commotion of hospitals, medication and trying to maintain some semblance of working life. Thus it was that, walking through the village one sunny afternoon, I took the uncharacteristically horticultural decision to attempt to keep a tomato plant alive. There it was outside our local florist's looking healthy and burgeoning. I'm not doing a very good job with humans. I thought; maybe I'll scale down and concentrate on this.

 Somewhere in the recesses of my more than slightly addled mind I wondered if success with tomatoes might give me some hope for the strawberries as well! So I tended with watering, feeding, and the occasional chat. Very similar attention to that bestowed upon the poorly, if I'm honest!

And indeed, as the weeks have worn on, both strawberries and tomatoes have ripened into health and strength and vibrant redness of face. Well, Jo got a tad too much sun at tennis yesterday, but the suncream is out now.

So here we are, at the start of our summer holidays, marked as usual by a birthday. The Meadowplace is back in its happy place, the sun appears to be doing its Irish best to shine, and tomatoes continue to grow. Thus far!

Non-views from around the place

 Jane, it's the same old view out there, but buffeted by wind and rain and cold! And yes, I did leave it too late to take this week's shots so here are the last few days around the house. This is my one pear from my Christmas pear tree.

 We took off through the farmer's fields behind us on Sunday afternoon- when Autumn was still kind and mellow and bright!

 Mattman was remembering the days when we would read "Going on a Bear Hunt", as we re-enacted the splishy sploshy river, the onomatopoeic mud and the high grass!

 We forget most times that we are a little bit high. High enough to look down on the Lough if you get a clear break in the suburbs.

 And home through the farmyard, where things are taking on a decidedly end of October appearance. I will work on rotating my picture of their seasonal butler who would otherwise hang horizontally across your view and be even more spooky than he already is.

 Here too the pumpkins are gathering. I have plans for these two at the weekend. Thanks to another Jane for the tea cosy. I only wish I had made it myself!

And here we are. Remains of the day: homework debris and Prince Charming's fantasy football entries (and there's something I never thought I'd say). You can't hear the rain, but I can....

A bad book week

This week I haven't finished one single book. I did dip into one that I hope to finish for next week, but last night I gave up on one completely. I don't usually do this. I mostly have to keep going to find out what happens next. I did admittedly abandon The Shack. Literally. I left it on a bench somewhere between Guildford and Brittany. And I skim read the theme that interested me in a book about a girl from a bookshop who goes to work with a reclusive author.

However last night I realised in a liberating gust of breath that I did not have to spend one single more moment of my life being dragged through the morass of humanity's representation that is The Poet by Michael Connolly. No, I am not linking to it!

We seem to have gone crime fiction mad in book club. The Agatha books were missing from my tick-list and I was happy to have a go therewith; but this Connolly novel does exactly what I hate most with fiction.

We know that our world is an evil, dangerous, polluted pit. We know that men, and women, abuse the physical possibilities of our human bodies. We are surrounded now with tales that disgust and deplore.

I just find that sometimes with a novel, I'm not sure whether the author is taking my trust and engagement and dragging me through the dirt for the good of the themes within, or whether they are taking my trust and engagement and money and making for the hills.

So enough. No more. I shall finish the other book I started and then I shall find myself Something Good To Read. Probably starting with People of the Book as recommended by Dormouse! Warn me now, sweet mouse, if you think there is ANYTHING distressing therein!

What I did this evening instead of finishing my second book in two weeks was grab Master Heart, the Farmer's son, before he took up his usual evening position in my garden and demand apples. Mr Heart, the Farmer's Husband, had already sent me home a huge bowl of blackberries and my Good Housekeeping Cookbook tells me that blackberries and apples can be jam.

Round the corner and up the lane we all trotted, stopping to chat to our next-door neighbours, their goats. Through all the little gates, through the old garden, and into the orchard.

 We didn't need to send small boys up trees for all the apples, but it does help.

Then back down the lane and home. With clear minds and wholesome thoughts. Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Views

We have been enjoying the most fabulous September weather this week. Every day is warm and airy. We get home from our schools and pour ourselves straight into the garden. The conkers are becoming visibly brown and are just ready to fall all over us and we cannot wait.  Please note the fine linen spread on our recently moved table.

I had not one but two parcels waiting for me this afternoon. One was very expected and may I just congratulate Clarks for using a sensible courier who can take a decision that doesn't involve spending your weekend driving the length of the borough to retrieve undelivered mail?

But Sandra of Thistle Cove Farm- thank you immensely for this beautiful tablecloth! I have been imagining what American feasts it has already hosted. It is quite the most perfect companion to Scarlet's gifts of last month. Bloggistes really are a kind and generous band of folk.

The solitary pear on my Christmas pear tree has now clearly reached a weight that allows it to hang vertically rather than horizontally. This is emcouraging, if slightly less smile inducing.

We moved the garden table from under the kitchen window because I wanted to have a quiet corner for herb pots and thinking. This is the starting point! These chairs sat in full sun just under the kitchen window in Strawberry Land and they were my thin place. A place where the barrier between Heaven and Earth is thin, and where God is strongly felt.

Glorious sunshine to the front as well. That tree in a pot was waiting for us when we arrived just over five months ago, and it has taken me all this time even to begin to have the courage to rearrange things. Its next move might involve more than a rearrange.

This tree, however, is much more intriguing. Answers on a postcard, or in a comment, please?

Bloggistes of my world, may the Son be shining on your face all day x

Views from our Autumn windows

 I love Autumn, and I love all your posts in Autumn (or Spring for you New Zealand folk, and that just thrills my mind utterly...), so here I am popping my head out of the mire for a brief return to the Land of Blog!

 This very week the bottom leaves on the apple blossom tree tinged themselves with gold. Though all month here there has been a very blissful meander into Autumn. The air has been so soft that Jo Malone could have bottled it and called it something like "Mist and mellow apple tree".

 The apple tree is just beyond today's decorations. Prince Charming has counted the apples, and they are certainly groaning on the boughs. We are so unused to a harvest on our own doorstep that we haven't worked out whether to pick them, shake them, or wait for them to fall. If in doubt, do nought, as I always (always) say.

I brought this mini-pillow, now sadly water-stained and worse for wear, and there's a metaphor for life, back from the States many child-rearing seasons ago. I loved America in Autumn. You folk do seasons very well. I thought of you today in town when I saw a shop window full of Christmas jumpers.

Usually I go out now and buy the boys some pumpkin themed or at least coloured attire. Sadly my pumpkin boy, birthday next week, will no longer be persuaded into pumpkin costumes. He wouldn't even let me photograph him in his pumpkin hat this afternoon.

I do, however, have some views of a footpath coming soon. Bet you can't wait!

Views from our windows

It's close of play here at Centre Court, and we haven't had to take cover under the roof much at all today. I think we won every match in straight and happy sets!

Happy Fourth July to those celebrating America, rather than watching tennis at Wimbledon. Can you see my new camellia settling into its pot? My original plant died in the dark, damp winter, despite having survived the fourteen before.

Prince Charming cut the grass tonight, in record time, giving the apple tree a bit of a berth because it is laden, oh lusciously laden, with tiny little fruits. Very exciting!

The windows are still open, and it has been a good week to kick off the summer holidays, with more hot weather to come apparently. It's all good x

Greatitudes 812 - 834

Well, there has been much lovely stuff in and around Strawberry Land lately. Passing wholly over the fact that the last week has been one of the hardest I've lived in a while, let's be concentrating on the good!

I threw myself a surprise Bean birthday* last week, but two crafty (in both senses of the word) friends knew too much and presents were brought. Nice!

We've harvested this year's first strawberries, and will have a bowl a day for the foreseeable future. Just add cream, or warm banana bread and ice-cream...

I'm very glad that my two big cool guys can still pitch in and have a bit of baking whilst nipping off to Minecraft or supersoak or do that Lego thing. Also glad that they will sit at the table and do some school work. I know you'll not approve of holiday school, but this is the summer between P6 and P7 and The Test looms!

Prince Charming's Christmas present is letting us eat and watch Wimbledon, very important with Murray playing his fourth round!

Love Dr Oetker, boys with an eye for icing, and having something nice in a tin. Do call round for a cuppa this week- we have something nice in a tin!

I have upgraded my phone. Touch technology, no less. Very scary. It's a Nokia Strawberry, in case you're wondering. It takes much better photos than my Nokia dinosaur, but you'll just have to take my word for that- I have no idea how to do anything with said photos yet. So you'll have to imagine a nice day at the beach on Saturday and a wonderful day at Summer Madness yesterday! Though I'm beginning to feel that a woman in her mid-forties really shouldn't be at Northern Ireland's premier Christian music festival. And she definitely shouldn't be having a go at the hip-hop workshop. No sirree. Maybe my thigh muscles will work tomorrow...

*When I met my crafting friends a few years ago, we used to survive life and hook in a nearby coffee shop called Coffee Bean Deli. (It's still there, and we still go sometimes- Merville Garden Village for those of you in the area!) For birthdays we would have Bean Birthdays- themed cakes, bunting, and little presents. More recently we seem to be more in each others' houses, but the term stuck!

Bienvenue au jardin potager

Years ago I worked for a few summers on colonies de vacances en France and there was a song that we sang at a Holiday Bible Club that went: "Bienvenue au jardin potager..." and I've forgotten the rest! Floss or other francophones/francophiles/francovivantes, do you know this chanson? I do remember loving it. We sang it in a little salle just outside Marseilles. Lovely!

Jo and I spent much time this afternoon tackling the raised bed out front. We were planting out some squash and lettuce that we were given, prompted by Mattman's impatience to get his sunflower seedling into the ground. We dug out nine fantastic potatoes- sown and harvested three years ago! We also put the leek seeds into the vacated tub on the kitchen window sill. Thank you, Nedboy!

Jardin potager would be more of my more aspirational lifestyle dreams- I am always intimidated by your allotments and plots and green fingers! My achievements amount to some strawberries, here pushing through in the front flowerbed, given to us last year and put there because the strawberry bed was full, at that stage.

They live next door to this wonderful beast, the name of which you will instantly know and I instantly forgot when it was originally given to me in The Very Prestigious School where once I worked. It's a pearl of rain catcher.

The apple tree has been covered in blossom this year, and I am desperately trying to keep it clear of footballs, rugby balls, frisbees, Nerf darts, space hoppers...

One end of the strawberry bed is looking as promising as ever, though the other is very sparse. Job #1 that I might actually do is to buy a few more plants to supplement. We usually get a fine strawberry harvest, but sometimes miss the best of it because it comes when we're on holiday. This year the flowers have come much later than usual so I am saving strawberry recipes in the hope that we will be here for the glut!

 Job #2 that I would really want actually to do is weed out the rhubarb bed. It has also always been very good to us, and I should reciprocate!

Job #3 is replenish the herb pots. The little bay tree finally gave up, and I miss it. The rosemary is looking very woody, and the thyme battles on!

All advice and encouragement will be most welcome!