Through the railings...
Partially obscured…a tantalising glimpse…don’t we all love to peer through a gate and wonder? Imagine? Dream? Somehow it’s rare I find myself on the outside looking in here…as if I were a stranger sauntering by. Sure, I glance fleetingly when I collect the mail at the letterbox, and though the view always makes me smile, I’m generally in the midst of going about my day. But I know if I didn’t live here…my interest would be so very piqued…and with my imagination racing, perhaps I might be discovered hovering! For the best part of the year, it’s really very hard to see much of the house from outside the railing fence and gates, obscured as it is by dense foliage that clothes the trees on the Persimmon Lawn, but as the leaves colour through their golden and burnt orange tones, through russets and crimsons and umbers, by now they’ve mostly fallen to the ground in a pleasing, ephemeral drift, and so a beckoning glimpse of the house from outside the gate is more possible.
Although (to be honest) the house itself then, looked nothing like it does today; it was through these railings 38 years ago this coming week, that I did have my first glimpse of what I had no idea would become our home for the best part of our lives. Next Tuesday 19 May will mark 38 years since the auction at which Larry was tempted to raise his hand (without my knowing!); and the very following Saturday, we ventured down to Glenmore with a picnic basket on the back seat of the car. It was a glorious autumn morning not unlike last Sunday (when I snapped this pic above). And oh my how I had to laugh…for the reason I…we, were up at the front gate for a protracted length of time, was because we needed to tackle the Agave americana specimens to either side of the front gate - as through the summer they had put on so much growth they looked like monsters from the deep, and any visitor would likely collect a long scratch to either side of their vehicle on attempt to drive through! Never mind it was our 40th wedding anniversary…if anyone had told me back then….????!!!!
So…whilst I gathered my long saw and gloves, and put on a thick jumper to protect my arms from those beautiful (but piercingly sharp) points that punctuate the sturdy leaves of those splendid Agave at regular intervals, Larry went off to get the tractor: this was not a job to mess with! And so first I removed the excess leaves, then guided each specimen carefully through various components of the tractor (cross bar/wheels etc) as Larry gave them a gentle push to get them upright…so we could prop them up with a brick or two (we’ve long discovered this to be a successful method in the front courtyard!). The ones more stubborn though, required a rope and gentle traction from inside the gate before we could do the work around their base…one at a time.
And soon, voila! We had them back in order…and that job, if nothing else…deserved a glass of champagne on Sunday evening! To be honest…I think it’s tasks worked on together, that make for good companionship - whether in marriage, or any relationship. As in collaboration - when each plays their part to contribute to an outcome, a sense of wellbeing sits alongside accomplishment. I’m not saying there was no annoyance or grievance along the way…or accident (I mean how on earth can you hit yourself in the forehead with a digging bar I ask you? But nothing ever phases Larry…he just shrugs it off and gets on with the task at hand…muttering as ever, “some mothers do have ‘em, and mine did!”). ref. 1970’s British tv show that I don’t quite think I could watch these days, though just thinking of it makes me laugh ‘til I cry!
As an aside…a lovely young person sent me a message on Sunday evening asking what the secret was? Although at the time I replied ‘patience’, of which a great deal it has to be said, is required, I think a sense of humour truly goes a long way. I’ve no doubt many peeps wonder at Larry’s and my compatibility…we hail from different backgrounds, different countries…and even almost generations (he being ten years my senior). We do not see eye to eye on everything, we’ve made plenty of mistakes along the way (mostly when it comes to parenting - do any parents get it right?) tho we love our girls to bits. In many ways he drives me bonkers…and I’ve no doubt I am equally maddening in reverse. And yet…
But…back to all one can really see of Glenmore from our little road (of any of the buildings or gardens that connect them, and that make up the domestic bounds and all the activity that occurs) is the Hayshed; with its original, rusty corrugated iron roof. All else is tucked away…each pocket with its own character and atmosphere a secret to discover, to be revealed, one slow step at a time. It’s the polar opposite I guess…of ‘showy’, which is just the way we like it!
While on the topic of railings…this little enclosure was beckoning to me this morning! One of three, I know they’re completely dotty, placed as they are at intervals in the grass in the old home paddock. Though not as spectacular as some years - I don’t know why it’s been a poor year for Zinnias…seems silly; but still they draw my eye from behind the tomato-stake palings…reminding me of speckled eggs. How I love an enclosure - any kind of fence or wall - and I’m not sure if I like them best left blank, or infilled. Blank, they are filled with possibility; filled, they are enchanting. The best blank enclosure I ever recall seeing, was many years ago, and whenever I think of an enclosure, I’m reminded of it…I recall feeling such a pull towards it, that the sense has never been forgot. It was at poet, writer, visual artist and gardener Ian Hamilton Finlay’s ‘Little Sparta’ in the Pentland Hills not far from Edinburgh…and an ode, as it were, to the traditional ‘sheepfold’.
Oh now how unexpectedly delighted I am to have gone on this tangent! Given I just googled Little Sparta to attach the link for you (above), I’ve discovered they have an interactive garden map (who knew?)…and what’s more…I’ve found my way (given I knew already roughly within the setting where it was!) to the sheepfold itself - complete with image, description and all…and I can sense the thrill of it to my bones, all over again! Here’s the description for you:
Eclogue, Folding the Last Sheep
This drystone walled construction of the sheepfold evokes both the long but precarious tradition of hill sheep farming in Scotland, and the English artist Samuel Palmer who, towards the end of his life, made a translation of Virgil’s Eclogues and illustrated them with drawings and etchings of English pastoral scenes full of tender feeling and visionary intensity. This work is one of homage, subtly underlined by the base meaning of the word eclogue -something chosen from among many. The text reads:
ECLOGUE
FOLDING
THE LAST
SHEEP
I’m scouring now for my own image…
And here it is…found it! July 2012! Oh and now I am truly reminded at the sheer thrill of it all…the multiple walls and carefully placed rocks…stones…inscriptions.
Although there are plants of course, and beautiful vistas, Little Sparta is a garden filled with (albeit thoughtfully, poetically, visionary placed) piles of…stones. Which for me have a kind of deep, magnetic pull. I really must go back one day…
Here’s a circuit breaker…before you think I’ve got rocks in my head! A pile of oranges, delivered courtesy of a flock of Sulphur Crested Cockatoos…grrrrr….I really wasn’t planning to pick them yet; it’s too early and though they are ripening, they are not yet sweet as can be, although they are beautifully juicy. Each one squeezed yields a good half glass of juice and just look at those segments! I hope it was just a one-off attack and that the birds have lost interest now, as I really do much prefer to leave the oranges on the trees, to pick as we need them. They ‘keep’ much better there and if the birds leave them alone, there will be oranges for us a-plenty from now ‘til the spring, giving us our daily hit of vitamin C, just when we need it most.
I cannot tell you how surprised I was, to find the first pea bud of the season this morning! It looks like the Golden Pod is leaping ahead of the other varieties, though I see plump pre-buds beginning to form on those too, as multiple tendrils latch on to their upright supports…the kind of plump pre-pea-buds that look so tempting to eat, but I mustn’t…not yet! There will be time enough in the weeks ahead, these are still early days…
Intent as I am on sharing as many colours and tastes (alongside all those olfactory delights I’ve been accumulating) at our workshop on Sunday, I’m thrilled to see the radicchio leaves beginning to gather a hint of that deep brownish-red developing in their already substantial veined leaves, alongside the lilac-stemmed, bulbous forms of kohl rabi. With chicory, mizuna and red-elk mustard for bitters; a plethora of herbs and even fennel pollen and fresh seed (a seasonal anomaly - I would usually expect this in spring!), we will have plenty of tastes to test, as our participants gather in the kitchen garden for a thoroughly immersive, edible exploration.
For the best part of this week, I’ve been collaborating behind the scenes, in a bid to bring a Winter Event together, and therefore tip-tapping away at my desk as rain showers have come and gone. Fireside with slow-food, fair-isles, woollen blankets…and two fun and inspiring young women: Lucy Tweed whose about-to-be released (third) book Tender (filled with scintillating winter recipes that make me hungry at the very thought of it, and several in which we will indulge on the day); and Amanda Cochran, founder of Grampian Goods Co., whose wares…I’m rather drawn to! Don’t we all love a good plaid, woollen blanket? And as for those fair isle knits… (come to think of it…one would be ideal in which to revisit Little Sparta down the track!).
As one who is inclined to keep my clothes for years on end (still wearing the gardening shirt I bought when we got underway here at Glenmore all those years ago - DJ’s men’s department!), I like to make considered decisions. How I look forward to pulling favourite jumpers from the cupboard each year - the precious ones that are always folded after wear, back in tissue as if brand new. Things here get mended (or when they don’t, the holes just get bigger!). The girls still steal my old clothes…ones I thought would never see the light of day again; but they appreciate the quality of yarns from years gone by - “you can’t get rid of that”, they say. Will we ever have a garage sale, I wonder? Not that I’ve yet thought through how that process may even begin to work! I’ve long joked that come the day for us to leave here, I’d put things out on tables dotted about on the grass, with little price tags attached, like Karen Blixen did in Out of Africa (it’s so long since I’ve watched that film, I almost wonder if I made that scene up?). But I’m really not sure in reality, just how that might work? I think we’d need a lot of helpers!
Ever the romantic…I’m not sure there’s any harm in pondering the possibility of that scenario…but I can’t help thinking it might work better on a film set than in reality! I just noticed Clemmie is wearing a pair of Utility trousers today, that I wore to death (or thought I had!) when she was a baby…
Well…time to get back to the preparations for Sunday! I’ve made the fennel frond pistou, picked the rhubarb and even baked and rubbed the skins off the beetroot for the risotto. I’ve moved the tables (with Thalia’s help) into position in the Dairy and Loggia, but I can’t help thinking there is still a lot to be done. So…I’ll wish you a happy weekend and week ahead and look forward to catching you all again next week.
Mickey x
ps haven’t yet had time to return to the Vetiver I mentioned last week, but the aroma in the Dairy from the roots we did collect is utterly divine!
Eating from the garden: Aubergine, zucchini, tomato, warrigal greens, coloured chard, mizuna, chicory, lettuce, red elk, rocket, garlic, kohl rabi, Jerusalem artichokes. Figs (yes! in May…can’t quite believe it but picked another plump dozen!), rhubarb, Cape gooseberry, feijoa. Basil, lovage, mint, chives, parsley, rosemary, sage, thyme, oregano, nasturtium flowers, zucchini flowers, fennel fronds, pollen and seeds
Going / gone: beans, aubergine, figs, garlic (though I still have lots of tiddlies I’m working my way through)
Seed saving: Fennel, bean, parsnip, amaranth, tomato
Sowing: peas, rocket, cima di rappa, coriander, ‘red elk’ mustard, chervil, dill, parsley, sweet peas, carrots, beetroot, parsnip (I keep forgetting / running out of time to sow root veg!)
Planting: kale, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, kohl rabi, fennel, radicchio, chicory, endive, leek, lettuce…stagger, stagger, stagger…
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: sparingly now…roses, gardenia
Perfumes and aromas: nicotiana in the kitchen garden, and waves of pungent labdanum emanating from the Cistus (rock rose) in the Barn garden. By default…the sweet aroma of ripening oranges on the kitchen bench…
Pruning and other: I got so excited pulling tall grass that had grown into the Photinia hedge that runs the length of the fence to either side of the front gate while I was waiting for Larry to bring the tractor around that it’s been the job of the week! How I wish it was me doing it…I’ve wanted to for simply ages…it’s the kind of job that brings enormous satisfaction. But I’m afraid I had to task Thalia with doing it as it’s the kind of thing I just can’t get around to, though wish I could! I did cut back both the Heliotrope I mentioned last week, with great satisfaction - relieved of all that heavy, lanky growth, it’s free for air to whistle through now and won’t take long to recover. I couldn’t help getting stuck into the Nepeta at the same time…give me a pair of secateurs and….if it wasn’t for other peeps, I’d be there ‘til midnight!
Your writing gives me so much pleasure. I don’t have a garden any more, so yours is important. And I love the whole process of choosing and making what we eat. And your comments about family made me laugh. Yup. I get it!