A joy to visit.

For three solid hours this morning I boiled and peeled chestnuts in order to make soup and stuffing. One kilo gram of chestnuts took from 10am till 1.00pm to peel and I ended up with prune fingers as they had been handling hot wet chestnuts for so long. Then of course, I had to make the soup and the stuffing. I'm sure that come Christmas I will be pleased to have the stuffing already made (if it lasts that long without me succumbing to cooking it as chestnut stuffing is a particular favourite of mine). We had some of the soup for lunch and then, joy of joys, we visited the garden centre for a quick wander around and I bought some new gardening gloves after Luke wore my last pair when he was putting a new roof on the shed and ended up with a hole in the finger. I also spent five pounds on a pretty orchid for the house. The one I really wanted was three times the price and I didn't want to pay any more so opted for the cheaper one. Sometimes these things are false economies but I love having flowers and plants around so I shan't regret that one and may even succumb to buying one I really wanted too.
The hens were allowed out as we were home most of the day and it was hilarious watching them all fly out of the runs. They have been cooped up since Wednesday afternoon so couldn't wait to fly the nest, so to speak. Each chicken came out with a ludicrous flight path and little Mrs. Bun ended up flying straight into the raspberry patch - no wonder Luke chopped them all down afterwards. It's time for their annual cut and it's been months since we had the last raspberry although I think the hens may have enjoyed a few more than we did.
The two new hens now have names that we agree on. I think we've turned into proper chicken owners now because I've stopped thinking about naming them. However, the old rule that if something has a name we don't eat it still stands for any animal we own. Once you find out their personalities (and believe me when I tell you that each chicken has it's own individual personality - yes, really), well, you just can't dispatch them.
So Buckster, Lunar, Poppy, Mrs Bun and.., Betty and Silvie are all safe.
Last night Luke had to retrieve an egg by hooking it with the garden rake. Silly Mrs Bun isn't like normal chickens and doesn't hide away in a dark and comfy nest to lay her eggs. Nope, she just seems to lay them where she is standing and then looks surprised to see the egg when she turns around. So her latest lay was just left in the run and out of reach, hence the rake. But that chicken can do no wrong in Luke's eyes and he just rolled it along the ground till we could pick it up and wash it off. Scrambled egg in the shell., no doubt.

Never a dull moment!

After yesterday's sudden sleet shower, today we experienced - in this order - rain, sun, hail, sun and rain. Wellies and bathing costumes are the order of the day. A beautiful rainbow hung over us at lunchtime but in the shadows I still found remnants of the hailstones an hour after they'd fallen.Excuse teh photograph quality, this was taken on my phone but I couldn't walk past the small pile of hailstones in amongst the leaves.

Bald as a coot

On the way to town (after parking cheaply on the outskirts and walking in) I took the pathway along the river to see what wildlife was on it. These two little coots didn't disappoint and came tootling over to me.

Reaching high

This pale lemon hollyhock has seeded itself in a patch of rough ground on the outskirts of the city.

Work lends a helping hand

I swept up three bin bags full of fallen leaves this afternoon from outside my work place. I want to ensure that the elderly and infirm visiting us don't slip on the sodden leaves that have carpeted the entrance. So it's quite nice to be able to benefit from a work task. I brought two of the bags home with me and can make some rich crumbly leaf mould from them. I can either empty the leaves out into a container or simply leave them in the bin bags. All I need do is punch a few holes into the bag and occasionally add some water to help break the leaves down. Next year I will be able to use this free resource as a top dressing in the borders. I like how work can benefit my play time. And no comments from passers by about me and a broom at Halloween!

The winter draws in.

 Above, the Mahonias are ready to burst into a shock of sunshine yellow.

 The long stems of the Japanese Anemones.

Orange and brown, typical autumnal colour and directly above, the cheery pink rosebuds show great promise.Tiny amethyst flowers of the geraniums against Powys Castle.

The ever changing old oak at the back of the garden. Rapidly losing it's leaves and turning skeletal but it will all be back again next year.

Ugly fruit.

Yes, these are tomatoes and not actual ugly fruit but I wanted to show you what Mother Nature has done to these very late tomatoes. The photograph above shows a variety of mouldy tomatoes - we shan't be eating these!

So, once we have thrown the tomatoe plants into the compost and emptied the compost bags the hens will have the entire greenhouse to bath in - not that it stops them now!

Revisiting Lola.

We visited our adopted hen, Lola today and could hear her before we even saw her. We armed ourselves with a banana and a small pot of yogurt that she always loved and as you can see by the photograph below with her white tipped beak,. she soon tucked in. It seems she is head of the pecking order. How nice it was to check her out for ourselves.

Night and day.

Depending on whether it is night or day, the narrow border at the front of the house takes on a different look. The white flowers will glow in the dark and the pink and purple will shine in the light.

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Mrs. Bun

How can a little chicken get in so much trouble? I heard some squeaky sound a week ago and realised it was Mrs Bun munching on the polystyrene tray that my violas came in!

Next up, she decides to fly to the top of the steamer chair only she hasn't quite got her balance and has to flap around for a while before she is settled. Silly chick.

Nuthatch, frozen bird baths and the last of the tomatoes

It's six am on a Sunday morning and still very dark outside. A thought has just occurred to me, the clocks may have gone back an hour and if so I am totally unaware of this. We are always forewarned of this twice yearly but as I don't tend to read the newspapers or watch TV I have no idea if British summer time has now ended. The outside conditions tell me it is no longer BST though. The leaves on the oak are rapidly drying out and their varying shades of amber and brown are the last colours they will be turning before they sail away on a brisk, nipping wind and tumble gracefully to the ground. Soon the mornings will be frosted with white and the trudge up to the hen houses will be noisy with ice snapping underfoot.
As for the chickens, they will be loath to venture out, preferring to stay cwtched up (Welsh for cuddled) on their warm bed of wood shavings. The bigger girls will stay huddled on the perch and will only appear when they are hungry. Winter is definitely on it's way.

I was working all day yesterday and missed out on the glorious sunshine that was inviting me to go and play in the garden but I have enjoyed seeing a lovely torpedo shaped female Nuthatch darting about close by the conservatory window earlier this week. I'm always delghted to spy the common but shy Jenny Wren or the camera-inviting Robin Redbreast and already I've seen one handsome Goldfinch that so delighted Luke the first time he ever saw one in our garden.
Whilst I mourn the passing of a frankly non existent summer there is still such a lot to be got from the seasons in Britain. I won't yearn for the slippery mornings or the biting cold that seems to pervade every part of my body, turning my fingertips numb and making my feet feel like ice blocks, Likewise I shan't be welcoming the icy road conditions or scraping the windscreen and then waiting for the condensation to clear before I can set off on a journey anywhere but whilst the roses lie dormant (a great time now to plant new rose stocks whilst they are not disturbed by the upheaval) the bulbs will soon be reawakening and, hidden from view, will begin to build up their stores and push upwards and eventually out into the light for next year's colour.

Today we are visiting family so there will be no gardening but I am longing to get my fingers dirty and my back aching again. A hard day's digging is pretty therapeutic even if it's tough going and standing back to admire the crumbly soil after it's been dug over is one of my secret (not so secret now) joys. The winter sky, bright blue with mere wisps of cloud, is always a delight to stare up at whilst I am stretching my back out when it locks up. A steaming hot cup of tea to wrap your hands around and feel the warmth seeping back in is another simple pleasure. Having the 'ladies' around my feet, looking for any fat worms I may have unearthed with my digging always makes me chuckle too. They are so industrious and when we both spot a wriggling body in the clod of soil I have just dug it's a race to see who can get to it first. Me, to hide it back safely underground or the hens to make a tasty meal of it.
Last night Luke picked me up from work and had difficulty getting the two littlest back into their run so ended up shutting them into the safety of the greenhouse. When we arrived home at dusk they had already perched, high up on the metal framework, in amongst the tomato plants. We quickly hooked up a chicken each, much to their obvious and noisy displeasure, and popped them deftly back into their hen house. Much happier to be back in their dark and comfortable sanctuary they immediately stopped their protestations and, peeking through the window of their house, we could see them snuggled up together ready for a good night's sleep.
Oh to be a chicken in our little flock.



Talking of the tomatoes. it's now obvious that we won't be getting any more ripening and the ones that have started ripening have now split their skins and have an edging of mould running along the split. They look like they have fur lined bomber jackets on. We will have to consign the plants to the compost bin but at least I saved a few last ones to freeze for stews later in the year. Luke is thrilled that finally we had success with our greenhouse tomatoes and I hope this means that next year we will have rows of dark green bushes with fat red globes hanging off them. Yum.