A hearty raspberry

Huge great canes ready for monster raspberries. The standard weeping pear in the foreground was last year's birthday present from Luke and is in a temporary position for now. It will have to be moved soon.

A morning walk

Luke and I went for a little walk to the bottom fields last weekend and wandered along the river. The weather was very different to the torrential downpour we have just experienced (as we Brits say when there is yet more rain, "well, it's good for the garden")

The garden, so far.

After a year of hard work. The garden is still a work in progress but it's on it's way. If you click on the photo you'll get a larger image.

 February 2010

April 2011

Hearts and flowers.

Here's a little plant tribute to our little chicken.

A heart leaf.

Where there's life, there's hope.

Having let the girls out of their run and having them trot along behind me whilst I took some photos of the emerging buds put a smile back on my face. I am unnerved by little Sweetie's death - particularly as it all happened so quickly - but our other two girls both look very healthy. I've photographed the alliums, exploding balls of purple and white and the agapanthus that I love so along with buds of fat claret roses, the foxglove flowers which are temporary tunnels for honey bees and swirling variagated leaves of a hosta.
Having my girls accompany me whilst I snapped away made me enjoy them rather than feeling so sad about losing Sweetie. There is a sharp downpour now (I just had time to get most of the washing in before getting drenched) so the hens are taking cover under their house and I am typing away at the dining table.

In the spirit of frugality and recycling (I dig up the grass and replant it, for heaven's sake!) I've edged the new lavender beds at the front of the greenhouse with stones I've dug up from the ground. I've also noticed that the bay I thought I'd lost and gave a last chance to by cutting it down to ground level and potting it up has paid back my hope by shooting from the earth in triumphant abandon.

At the weekend we both planted up some seeds for the summer. I planted sunflowers, violas, lupins, sweet peas (after soaking the seeds overnight) and ornamental gourds whilst Luke planted up one more batch of tomatoes. His early potatoes are now almost doubling in size daily and the wigwam is in place to support the Trail of Tears beans we have dropped at the base of the canes.There is always hope in life.

I've lost that loving feeling.

Although as I look out onto the garden now and see how everything is swelling and shooting up under the warmth of a May day I can't help but feel a little non-plussed. The garden was always brought alive by the presence of 'our girls' although they were often to be found digging up new plants or creating holes in the lawn when they'd chanced upon an unlucky worm. Without little Sweetie I'm like an over protective parent to our two remaining hens and have kept them in their run so far today. They have spied me and are hoping to come out and I know I'll succumb and let them have their own way but I'm so sad that the feisiest of our ladies has gone and it's taken the shine of the whole garden for a while. It's amazing how these silly yet adorable birds get under your skin. Poor little Sweetie; I miss her.

A sad day.

We have a photo taken just two days ago of our chickens. Little Sweetie is pert, pink in the face and holding herself beautifully. It's a great shock then to find us at the end of today with a little hen grave dug for our lovely hen. We noticed yeterday afternoon that her tail was tucked down and that she was very lethargic and so we isolated her in case it was contagious. As today was a bank holiday (we get the first Monday of May off every year) it meant that only emergency vets were available and just for getting a vet's consultation was £70, before any treatment was discussed. We couldn't justify £70 but then again we signed up to be responsible for any livestock we care for so after discussing it further we made an appointment and took her along. Sadly, with a heart rate over 500 beats a minute she was dead before the fluid which had built up in her abdomen (normally meaning perotonitus but also cancer in chickens - a more common disease than you'd imagine in hens). It was highly unlikely that she would survive but I strongly believe you have to do your best if someone or something relies on you for their wellbeing so all we can think is that we did our best by her and bless - look how happy and healthy she was just two days ago.

She now rests by the hen house with a tribute hydrangea atop of her. As a friend commented when I said the other chicks hadn't seemed to notice her absence, "Yeah, well they are chickens, aren't they?" He's right of course but we've loved all our hens and we miss them. It may seem silly but you can get very attached to this little bombs of feathers. We've had too many jolly times with her to be too sad.