But a puddle...
A fortnight ago I greeted you with a beacon…a blaze of colourful Persimmon leaves clothing a fully dressed tree in all its glory, but today I greet you instead with a puddle! So it is that autumn makes its slow progress; and it is a rather slow march this year. Though splashes of colour highlight the tree-scape, most leaves are yet to turn, to take their moment to shine. It isn’t chilly enough. While I was away, the temperatures (uncharacteristically) rose…but on return it’s been grey and showery…a kind of bleak no-man’s land in the seasonal spectrum - one perhaps to mirror the zombie-like state of a jet-lagged body and mind…one not rested from holiday, but instead exhausted from concern as life chapters roll and pages turn.
From here this post could go several ways; for the week away spelled the gargantuan end of an era - one where the culmination of my parents’ working lives (that enabled a long-held dream to flourish) reached its end; as with increased rapidity, my Mum’s ability to live independently has diminished and her memories fade.
I’ll likely not see these little daisies dancing in the grass in this particular spot ever again and nor will my Mum. There has been a literal closing of doors: of the space that kept my Mum in her dreamscape for so long after my Dad died; and new doors opened - ones that require buzzers and codes for access; though I’m just glad those new doors also lead to incredibly kind and caring people.
The whole has further deepened questions…about the decisions we make in our lives, the effects those decisions have on others, the beds we make…and therefore in must lie…and yet, our lives are ours to lead. Am I happy to see my Mum in care? No, of course not…let alone on the other side of the world. It would have been easier here. We tried…and my brother and I have been delaying this situation for her ‘til the last possible moment. But is she in good care? Yes; and I’m so glad to have seen that with my own eyes. I’m only sorry that bringing her five days of delight at seeing me and my brother together cannot be on repeat for the other 360 in the year. Thank goodness for FaceTime. If only she’d look at the damn phone instead of putting it to her ear (hello Bridget Jones!). I was thinking just this morning that…it’s probably only my generation that will ever have to shout the words “please look at the phone Mum”!
None of these recent years of my Mum’s life would have been possible for her to continue to live the way she has, if my brother didn’t also live in England…it’s me who’s the oddball out. He lives close by to her and so by default, has carried the load of her decline, which was expedited by the implication of solitary confinement during the Covid period.
Anyhow…the week away from here was not all doom and gloom. I guess my brother and I were blessed with parents inclined to see the funny side of things. In the attempt to settle our Mum into her new situation, we did some things together…the three of us, that wouldn’t normally occur at this stage of our lives. Up hill and down dale we zoomed…a caricature of times past as we zipped around the Cotswolds - the epitome of ‘England’s green and pleasant land’ that my Mum so loves (the meaning behind William Blake’s poem Jerusalem would not have been lost on her though). The narrow lanes and hedgerows edged with cow parsley, the dips that close in with tunnels of over-arching, newly-popped lime green leaves, that spit you out into bright fields of flourishing crops and yellow-flowering rape. The towns and villages of golden stone, the market squares and picture perfect houses clothed in wisteria at this time of year, with billowing blooms of lilac at every turn. And with each outing…cream tea! “Another scone Mum?” It was like being ten years old again, me in the back seat, except with my little brother, rather than our Dad, driving the car. All this makes my Mum so happy, she literally claps her hands in delight. Have we done the right thing? I don’t think we had much choice…and another week on, Mum seems to recognise her plight, is more accepting and…less anxious. So for all that it’s not perfect…it could be a lot worse.
Mum aside, it was a week of activity! My brother’s black Labrador gave birth to nine adorable puppies about ten days before I arrived and I swear they doubled in size during the time I was there! While their eyes had barely opened when I got there, by my last day they were walking and attempting escape from their pen! I’m thinking I left just in time, as I imagine scenes akin to those in ‘101 Dalmations’ on the very near horizon. Seven girls and two boys…how I would have loved to put one into my luggage! They’re all very mobile now and at that plump-puppy stage that’s so very irresistible, you don’t want to put them down! If you’re in the UK…I think there are still four looking for a home…that is…if my nieces don’t persuade their parents to keep them all!
I really did fail to take any other pictures. It just wasn’t that kind of a trip and memory lane can wait in this space for now…
But I would have taken some….that are relevant to relaying the details of the following mini-tangent…if I could have! My brother very kindly arranged for us to go to the Daylesford House Open Garden (conveniently located between him and Mum’s new address). What an odd thing (though certainly not an unpleasant one!)…to go-a-garden-visiting with my brother rather than Larry, if indeed not on my own! Larry and I were lucky to have a tour with the head gardener at Daylesford so many moons ago, but as a rule, the private garden only opens once a year. It was the only day the sun shone and the spring temperature there was higher than our autumn temperature here! And what a treat it was. But “NO PICTURES ALLOWED” read signs at regular intervals. “We are not participating in an RHS photographic competition” or some such, another sign announced. At first I thought damn. Especially where a glorious yellow flowering Banksia rose smothered the prettiest of Gothic-style summerhouses, and glasshouses spilled with scented pelargoniums, pot houses with towers of terracotta pots, flower rooms with hefty shelves filled with vases and vessels and enormous freestanding sinks, a romantic shell grotto beckoned and newly sown veg in the walled garden flourished in and around beautifully made structures. But…equally, how lovely it was to absorb without trying to capture; as well as seeing not one selfie stick in the crowd. It was just a very old-fashioned kind of open garden…and…one not trying to prove anything at that. The garden at Daylesford is classic…first laid out in the late C18th and well nurtured, cared for and loved by the current incumbents (sure there’s a team of gardeners, as you’d expect). Everything about it feels ‘right’, calm and uncluttered without being overly landscape designed (which perhaps sounds counterintuitive given its historical context). It has purpose. The best parts are productive. Though it has many features…romantic lakes, a distant family of wicker elephants that cause a double-take, nesting swans, and all the rest…they’re settled, real. And of course in unison with the Daylesford values that underscore all that enterprise stands for…the private garden too, is guided by organic principles.
My other major take from this very brief trip, was the healthy state of localised food security, and support at a ground roots level, for traditional systems that clearly serve the local community well. While I know it won’t be the same across the board in that country (and yes, the area to which I’m referring is one of the wealthiest in the nation) it does support its farmers. You can hardly move without coming across locally grown produce, the opportunity to fill your own milk bottle, buy local meat, chicken, eggs, cheese, honey. It doesn’t require a specialised trip (or postage) to buy locally grown and milled flour. Garden nurseries are heaving…not just with ornamentals but with veg seedlings ready to sow - and their own co-op attached. Farm shops and co-ops are rife; and funnily enough…everyone wears a smile.
The topic of food security…is one that has long concerned me - and supporting farmers, the like of Andy & Liz of Gowrie Farm from whom I’m buying cheese for this Sunday’s event with Jade Miles for her just released book ‘Huddle’, is the best way I can think to go about it: local farmers implementing regenerative practice, nurturing their pastures and thereby their soil and so the wider environment, while creating small scale, artisanal produce that contains the vitamins, minerals and sheer goodness that as local humans, we ought to consume for our own good health. I can’t wait to collect the ġbejniet tomorrow morning, that Andy’s made from the milk he’s collected from his cows this week, and that our visitors will eat on Sunday. Equally Anna from Monks Lane (down the hill) is bringing olives and just pressed extra virgin olive oil. And I’m plundering the kitchen garden for whatever I can find! I just wish there were more Andys and Lizzes and Annas around here….and every other region. Life on the land isn’t easy, it doesn’t suit everyone…it never will. But if we don’t fully support those who are prepared to feed us good, healthy, organic produce…rather than mass produced, modified and chemical filled rubbish…we’ll not be a healthy society.
I do so hate the disconnect that even a week away from the garden can bring. And the inevitable feeling of being behind, and in a mess. Had I not skipped a weekend in the garden, I’d certainly have cut down the Jerusalem artichoke stems sooner! As it was, I virtually had my hands wrapped around my secateurs before I unpacked my suitcase on Saturday morning!
I’d filled a wheelbarrow in half an hour! And then took to the citrus trees outside the kitchen - I’d mentioned they were in my sights before I left, but I didn’t get a chance to tackle them before leaving. Given I’d summer-pruned their lax growth, it was surprising how much had repeated that phase. So a whole trailer, rather than a wheelbarrow load, came next. In a bleary-eyed state the next day, I tied tomato stems, hooked delicate new pea stems onto supports to set them in the right direction and squished far too many green caterpillars of the white cabbage moth than I cared to count!
On Monday Thalia dismantled the shade structure to save me time and then together we rigged up a net over the brassicas (after I checked every leaf for yellow eggs!). Of course damage has been done, though not irretrievably…at least I hope! It does make me wonder though (as it does each year) if it’s really worth trying to get ahead of the crop rotation curve, as one always seems to be inclined to do. In reality, the second and third sowings of brassicas I made are putting on slow and steady growth, but they’re all still happily small enough under net…where they can remain ‘til the first frost, when the cabbage moths should succumb for the winter brassica eating months. It’s my first plantings that grew at speed, exploded out of their nets and subsequently became the favoured spot for every cabbage moth in the garden to lay its eggs, that are causing the grief. Yes…they make the first eating…if they survive the barrage of attack. But perhaps it makes more sense afterall, to be more laid back about the timing…
The broad beans are shooting away now! I added the cross bars to the structure - and in just the nick of time for the bottom rung. Part of me was tempted to leave the net off, but I just dare not risk it - at this delicate stage, they could be an easy feed for anything from rabbit to bower bird. I fear they’ll just remain under net all season, but as long as I get broad bean tips to eat and subsequently the blossom and beans themselves, that’s all that really matters!
A second sowing of rocket and red elk mustard are flourishing, as are sowings of radish and…at last…the first coriander is showing signs of germination - pesky, temperamental herb that it can be!
While pumpkins sit atop the wall and aubergines and tomatoes continue to set fruit, some of the early cut stems of (companion) fennel are producing an autumn flush of flowers - a few have travelled as far as fresh seed, that may well be the perfect thing to scatter over one of Sunday’s ‘brunch’ dishes - what a surprise! I whizzed up a beautiful batch of fennel frond pistou yesterday in preparation for Sunday - a dollop of which will sink deliciously into each cup of tomato soup. Into the pistou went succulent stems as well as feathery fronds - what a treat to have this staple back on our every day menu!
Jerusalem artichokes will be on our plates for the longhaul now, throughout the winter months. Two each per serve…as I’ve said before…I’ve learned to cook no more! Though I plan to cook up several tray-loads for Sunday…as they’re just the thing…all caramelised, golden and gooey…to accompany a little tomato soup! (I’ll just be watching very carefully, how many people take!).
I’m so looking forward to Sunday’s event with Jade. Her second book ‘Huddle’ was published just last week and I know it’s full of good things. The opportunity for peeps to meet and hear her in real life is a special one - Jade is an inspiring and invigorating human and I know her book is filled with words of wisdom. I just hope my personal jet-lag fog has lifted by then!
I hope you’ve had a good couple of weeks. From hereon in, you can imagine me each and every evening as I prepare our dinner, trying to persuade my Mum to “please look at the phone!” I need to go and do that now…
With warmest wishes
Mickey x
Productive garden notes:
Eating from the garden:
Onions, garlic (stores of both diminishing fast now), aubergines, zucchinis (trombonchino), tomatoes, coloured chard and spinach; lettuce, rocket, red elk mustard. Rhubarb. Lovage, mint, chives, rosemary, thyme. Calendula, nasturtium and borage (new) petals, fennel fronds. Tentatively pulling a parsnip here and there. Introducing a kale leaf or two…although we’re some way yet off a frost for which I ought to wait! Jerusalem artichokes, kohlrabi…well…we haven’t actually eaten one yet as I can’t bring myself to upend the row before Sunday!
Going / gone: zucchini, basil, onions, garlic
Seed saving: parsnip (I still have some tall stems in seed mode), tomato
Sowing: cima di rapa, carrot, beetroot, parsnip, coriander, parsley, poppy, sweet peas
Planting: brassicas (kale, cavolo nero, cabbage, broccoli, kohl rabi, cauliflower), lettuce, radicchio, fennel (bulbing), bok choy and leeks. I think there’s time for one more sowing and planting effort..over the coming fortnight I’ll dribble a little more into the space available, though there’s not much! I’m keen for the dahlias to die down so I can lift them and plant onions in the space they’re occupying
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: it’s slim pickings now, though there’s still an abundance of tansy and a remnant rose here and there, a fennel flower if I feel inclined
Perfumes and aromas: I need to walk close by but the faintest hint of osmanthus is hiding down near the pool
Pruning and other: as mentioned above, I took to the citrus outside the kitchen verandah with gusto and I’d like to do the same with the oranges in the kitchen garden and the mandarin down the back. It won’t happen this weekend but they’re on my list. I pulled out loads of amaranth down the back and will take out much of the rest tomorrow. When she’s been here, Thalia has been pretty much been devoted to cutting back the Cliveas along the drive…uggghhhh and the last two days, clearing lawn gutters of weed and leaves ahead of Sunday’s event.
Rats!!!! Oh dear Sally...grrrrrrrr indeed! A few years ago I was SO excited at the heads of broccoli under wire, on a Friday before a Saturday kitchen gardening event...and as I walked by participants through the garden and went to point...to my horror they were ALL gone! That was our rat year! Hope you had a lovely time away Sally. Mx
Thank you for reading along Malle! Mx