Rhubarb, rhubarb...
Too much, too much to relay today...with prep on the agenda for tomorrow…but…let’s give it a whirl! For I seem to have been picking and prepping and blitzing and baking already…for days in advance! But let’s put all that aside for this minute (tho I’m a bit loathe to go off on a tangent, knowing I still have a list a mile long to achieve) because it just might help me to refocus on the reason I invited artist Matilda Dumas to guide a lovely group of participants in the pursuit of ‘painting the washing line’ in the first place; for the distraction of all the necessary prep that is part and parcel of any event can be so all-consuming, it can eclipse the very essence of the thing at hand. And the thing at hand is ‘A Good Drying Day’!
For Til’s charming paintings aside; the background for my initiating this workshop stems from my own personal fascination in the running of a domestic household - the very stuff that underpins good interior design (and the thing I reckon can often get lost in the wash when it comes to sound planning); for the working core of a house must do that…it must function seamlessly (well…as seamlessly as possible) for they who inhabit the household. The flow of daily life, the temperament and good (or otherwise) humour of those inhabiting a space depend upon it doing so; on top of which I believe regular household tasks ought to be pleasant to carry out - with washing, being one of them. Hence, where I can, I advocate for a window or two with a view and a door to a garden for a laundry. Of course it isn’t always possible, especially in the city; but I’m averse to a laundry being stuffed away in an airless cupboard unless absolutely necessary (which even for some of my very favourite long time clients is indeed the case as it was in my own childhood). I’d go so far as to say that over a long career, the possibility of ‘drying the washing on the line’ has been a goal of so many of my city dwellers…the lack of ability to do so causes them problems that long ago made me realise what a privilege it is to have space and fresh air for a washing line - which is not the usual high priority reason given for living in a rural setting! Laundry isn’t often the topic of conversation in daily life…but in such a career as mine has been…it has often been a major driver; and I know the difference it’s made in the lives of those for whom we’ve achieved even a portion of their dream laundry.
Initiating the workshop led me to think further and even do a little research on the history of the washing line: we all know that once upon a time, clothes were inclined to be draped over aromatic plants…like lavender or rosemary; as well as over hedges or hung on accommodating tree branches…if not flat out on hot rocks - any of which would likely cause clean washing surely…to be speckled with some remnant particles of some kind in their fibres? It seems the idea to hang garments / linens over some kind of ‘line’ to catch a breeze, only really came about during the industrial revolution, when populations became increasingly urbanised, and shrubs, hedges and fences were scarce. Equally, I did turn up an image of a length of fabric draped over a suspended pole (bamboo perhaps?) in a Pompeiian fresco; so no doubt every age and culture has come up with its own solution for drying the washing through the ages. Apparently the clothes peg was only invented in 1809 by one Jérémie Opdebec (it’s likely before this that many clothes blew away!) and…I had no idea that in England, pegs were often whittled by members of the Romani community from Willow, which they reckoned provided the best material for the purpose and as a result, landowners who didn’t want unwanted Travellers hanging about, removed the trees! Goodness…who knew? (ref. Michael McGirr, The Washing Line).
In tandem with the historical placement of a Laundry in a house plan, I like to associate a Still Room; once an integral part too, of a household. Now really, if I was worth my weight in your reading along here, I would do my diligent research and write a proper essay on these things. But I’ve chosen the wrong day to get bogged down in the like of what we might discover if we re-read Pride & Prejudice (I still need to pick and blanche warrigal greens, spin and dry the lettuce leaves, make the vinaigrette, find the piles of laundry to hang on the line and then some!).
Suffice to say, I’m leaving Hildegard on display for tomorrow, to prompt a brief discussion about capturing botanical essence in the way ‘ladies of the household’ (and likely their daughters too) would have done once upon a time; thereby having everything from medicinal and therapeutic remedies to cleaning materials and perfumes on hand…whether or not they used the results as ‘ironing water’ per se, I cannot say, but anyway I’ve been busy bottling pure Lavender Water for each participant to take home at the end of the day, as well as enough to spritz the air and the washing they’ll be painting!
Just as well it’s Til who’s in charge of the actual oil painting workshop…with all the prepped boards and materials our participants will need…my faculties are addled!
To cap off all this intense focus on the topic of the washing line and household duties…I cannot quite believe the coincidental timing of a visit by a family of Moore descendants last weekend - three generations, the eldest of whom lived here in the house as a boy and shared wonderful recollections as he placed various memories with the buildings that still stand and the chores (as well as fun and games) that were his responsibility. “I wonder where the washing line was?” I posed at one point during our garden wander. “Oh…it was over there” Jim said. And then his lovely daughter piped up with “I’ve seen a photo of it…I’ll see if I can find it”. And so she did! I’m guessing someone was taking a photo of the lamb with its woolly mama and the washing line just happened to get in on the act! But what are the chances? The timing????!!!! Thank you Donna - this just tickled me with absolute delight!
I had such a lovely time wandering and chatting with the Moore family descendants that…it did rather throw my own intended weekend chores into chaos! But some things are just more important…and so I got cracking just as soon as they left. Already the arrival of those chitted potatoes had me in a spin…so I prematurely cut down the last of the San Marzano tomatoes - normally I’d leave them a bit longer, but for the sake of maybe a dozen fruit, given the space they were taking up, I had to make the call. So out they came and with a quick tidy and minimal prep, in went the potatoes. Not all - I’m hoping the other four varieties will hold out and I’ve popped them in the cellar for now, though I must keep an eye on them; but I planted out all the Nicola and King Edwards before they turned to mush.
And then (the thing I’d been so looking forward to for weeks) I picked the pumpkins! One at a time…slowly, slowly…brushing them off, picking off any snails to toss to the chooks and setting them on whichever wall was closest to where I was standing…until I had 35 all lined up! By the time I’d cleared up the vines and weeded all around, so I could see the path again, it was dark…and when I woke in the night to the sound of rain, oh how I agonised about the pumpkins - all of them set right way up and no doubt pools of water forming around their stalks!
And so first thing next day, I took them all across to the table in the Hayshed, setting each one stalk-side down (which I don’t like to do because I reckon it weakens the stalk which is the thing that kept in tact, will lengthen their ‘keeping’ time). As soon as their bottoms were dry….I turned them all over. Phew…and all is right in the pumpkin world!
Tapping their bottoms to see if they make a hollow sound is the way you know a pumpkin is ready (I got to wondering if they might all make a different sound? As in…I wonder if you could ‘play the pumpkins’ in the way you can glasses filled with different levels of water? Silly no doubt…keep on track for goodness sake Mickey!) and I brought two up to the house to cut and roast for tomorrow’s lunch…and then decided one was enough…now I wonder if it is? Fingers crossed! Oh but just look at this beauty - which cut through clean as a whistle and with ease…thanks to that cleaver Jeremy (The Stones) sent me last year!
Before another drop of rain could fall, I rescued the pods of Sunset Runner Beans that had cured on the vine. It’s such a fine line…between them not being quite ready to pick for the purpose of seed saving, and if the weather is wet, the risk of losing them due to mould. As it was, the vines of this variety that I grew in the main beds through the summer were so thwarted by the bower birds, there was no seed to collect. And so I’ve been counting on this later sowing I made in the old raspberry cage to yield seeds to sow again next year. I’ve been saving these year to year for so long, I would hate to be without this variety in the garden - their peachy pink flowers make such a pretty (and tasty) addition to summer plates (as well as the garden itself) and it isn’t so commonly available. So…I think I’ve saved the strain for another year! Another phew!
Gosh…well…I think I’d better actually stop! While I’ve been sitting here tip-tapping, the clouds have cleared and the sky is blue…which means the rain drops should be drying in the kitchen garden; making the picking of warrigal greens a more pleasant task!
Oh how I have been holding my breath that tomorrow will indeed be a good drying day…not that I don’t have a back-up plan but it will be oh so much more fun if it truly, truly is!
With happy wishes to you all,
Mickey x
Eating from the garden: Aubergine, zucchini, tomato, warrigal greens, coloured chard, mizuna, chicory, cavolo nero, lettuce, red elk, rocket, garlic (the very last stored), kohl rabi, Jerusalem artichoke. Figs (yes…still! in May…can’t quite believe it but picked another plump half dozen!), rhubarb, Cape gooseberry. Basil, lovage, mint, chives, parsley, rosemary, sage, thyme, oregano, nasturtium flowers, zucchini flowers, fennel fronds, pollen and seeds and…fine new stems of very immature self-sown celery…now there’s a first!
Going / gone: beans, aubergine, figs, garlic (the last tiddlies are rapidly disappearing!)
Seed saving: Bean, parsnip, amaranth, tomato
Sowing: peas, rocket, cima di rappa, coriander, ‘red elk’ mustard, chervil, dill, parsley, sweet peas, carrots, beetroot, parsnip (I actually did sow carrots, beetroot and parsnip this week!). Potatoes…but only because the ones that arrived had chitted
Planting: kale, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, kohl rabi, fennel, radicchio, chicory, leek, lettuce…stagger, stagger, stagger…
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: sparingly now…roses…
Perfumes and aromas: waves of labdanum emanating from the Cistus have flooded the Barn garden this week…and the earthy aroma of just-dug Jerusalem artichokes each time I dig a few more…
Pruning and other: Larry and I turned the compost on Sunday afternoon! And while Larry strimmed the edges and mowed the grass (the regular need for both has eased since summer and this may even be the last of the season), I raked the field rows and paths to give them a tidy.
I love that photo of the ewe and lamb! I also find myself pondering whether it was taken before they started crossing merinos with British sheep to get a bigger frame. It’s funny that in the wool industry Merinos are always described as pure bred, and other breeds as Xbred, when the breeds they used to improve the small Spanish sheep are really the ones with the purest blood lines. Even Mary Grant Bruce remarks on “the small Australian sheep” compared to the big British ones, when the Linton family return home to Billabong after mucking in over in Old Blighty during “the Great War”.
You’ve sent me down another rabbit hole, Mickey (as you do frequently do).