The first Autumnal frost

The squash and a root are coated  by Jack Frost.

Already?

A trip to the garden centre two weeks ago for violas and ornamental cabbages to pretty up some pots and it seems it's never too early for Christmas. The trees have started to arrive.

Pigeon post.

If you look closely at the chicken run you will see a little grey pigeon that has found a place to sit.
I knew something was wrong with this chap because I could get very close without it taking fright and flying away. I left it for a few hours just in case it had stunned itself and needed to sort itself out again but with darkness falling at 6.00pm and 'our girls' wanting to go to bed but being too chicken (sorry, but there's a reason this term is used for scaredy cats) to go back up the ramp with this tiny bird on the roof I scooped it very gently up in a towel and popped him out of harm's way and into the greenhouse. This was a risk as he may have then taken flight and hit the glass but I felt I had little choice as Jack's cat was eyeing it up.
I know now that what I should have done is made it comfortable and safe and then sought assistance which is what I did when there was no improvement the next day. I just searched the Internet for a solution and found it in the way of a Fauna help charity. I rang the vet there who told me not to take it to a high street vet as they would just euthanise it (something I had expected her to say) and that if I could meet her in the vet's car park she would take it off my hands. To be honest with you I had grown very attached to the little chap but when I found him on the floor of the greenhouse and picked him up to check his damaged leg I was horrified to see that his entire breast skin on one side was missing and all I could see what the burgundy muscle underneath. He must have been in terrific pain and this is why I am so sorry that I didn't find the Fauna vet's details immediately, thinking it just needed to have a rest and gather it's strength.
Once the vet took  a look at it she assured me that as long as infection hadn't taken a hold he had a good chance of recovery. I know it's only a pigeon and can be considered by some to be vermin I still feel that every life has a chance or at least the right to a good death. This little chap was given oral painkillers and then some antibiotic cream, applied directly onto his affected breast. I have rung to find out how it is doing but am still waiting for a call back.
The vet said that they mate for life and she would like him released back where I found him in case he does have a mate. I hope I can report that it's a happy ending. Will keep you posted.

Will these be the last tomatoes of the season?

Somehow I doubt it. Much like I always believe each cut of the lawns from September onwards will be the "Last mow of the year" and then two months later I am still naively thinking this as I drag the mower out from it's hiding place in the shed yet again.
The tomatoes this year have been spectacular, juicy, sweet and prolific - I have what seems like gallons of them in the freezer, roasted, skinned and turned into a rich base for any numbers of dishes. My latest recipe is meatballs in tomato sauce and it's so easy to make - it's a Jamie Oliver recipe that calls for sausages or beef burgers pulled apart and rolled into mouthsized (and this depends on how big each person's mouth is, of course) balls and quickly browned in a frying pan. I tend to cook it all slightly differently because what does Jamie Oliver (net worth is probably about 100 million from his cookery empire) that I don't?
I wash and gently cut the skin of each tomato so it will shed it's skin easily later on. Then I pack them all in a roasting tin, add salt, pepper, basil or rosemary (whatever herb I have, really) and drizzle a little oil over them all. Next I put them in a hot oven to bring out the sugar in them and once they have had a good forty minutes I pull them out and with asbestos hands I pick each tomato up and slip it's skin off it before plonking the 'naked' tomato into a bowl.
As the tomatoes are in the oven I gently fry some garlic and onion before adding mushrooms and keep this on a low heat so they all go soft rather than brown. Then I pop them out of the frying pan (or wok) and quickly fry the meatballs before adding the onions and mushrooms and a good slug of red wine to cook off. Next go in the tomatoes, skinned and slightly mushed up (with clean hands or a clean spoon) and some herbs and this all cooks gently together until you are ready to serve with chunky bread or some form of pasta. Yum.
I have made enough for six of us from this pan of tomatoes which is just as well as we have four relatives visiting at the weekend. So easy to do and so tasty to eat - unless you know different.

Spuds

Two of our home grown potatoes. Nature is such an artist, these have hues of pink and plum. Too good looking to eat....

France puts on a show.

With great slabs of stone and mullion windows, the walled town of Carcassonne affords us some beautiful sights and adorned with the simplest of clay pots and a few geraniums makes a heartwarming photo. Even the old moat bed makes for a fertile and useful veg patch, seen from above by the bridge to the castle.

Even the remotest of villages perk their homes up with strategically placed 'mini gardens'. Right up in the hills, near Andorra, this apartment is all the more colourful with this addition of flowers.

All is safely gathered in.

Two weeks ago, Luke and I went shopping in Somerset. Luke, however, doesn't like shopping - in Somerset or anywhere to be precise so after being dragged around the shops for an hour it was time to escape from the hustle and bustle of all things retail and to investigate what else was happening on that Saturday afternoon.
Up in the town of Street we discovered that the Harvest show was taking place and was free to all so we ventured inside the town-hall and found a treasure chest of flowers and veg, all marked up and some awarded Best in Show status.

Here's a small selection of what was on display.

Fat berries, juicy tomatoes.

This week my lips should have been bruised with the ruby red of so many raspberries. There's something very organic about just pulling the dark, fat ones off their stems and, blowing hard on them to dislodge any bits or tiny insects, popping them right into my mouth. I don't know how many I've eaten this way but between me and the chickens I don't think poor Luke has tasted more than a handful.

Having autumn fruiting berries tricks me into thinking that summer still isn't quite over for us. 

And as for the tomatoes, the revelation of truly ripe, sweet cherry tomatoes equalling the sweetness of grapes and strawberries. A sun-warmed cherry tomato plucked straight from it's plant is delicious beyond words. 

Autumn starts reminding me of cold days and warm stews with those root vegetables but I still have a few weeks of these two fruit to keep me thinking of the sun.

A Gaggle of Geese

The joys of driving along a deserted country lane only to be joined by a line of geese, honking away with their necks stretched out in a thick line infront of their bodies and looking like the whole process is easy. I wound down my window and kept up with them as they made their way parallel with me until the road veered off and I lost sight of them. But then the magic of two dozen more geese in a lop sided V crossed the lane, honking loudly. It quickened my heart and put the biggest smile on my face ever.

And then there were four!

Oh dear, what have I done? After much soul (and chicken) searching, we realised we could not find a friend of similar age for our lonely chicken Sylvie and the closest we could get were five week old chicks. Not only do they need to feed on Grower's pellets instead of Layer's pellets but introducing such small chickens to much larger ones would be asking for trouble and trouble is what we don't want!
The next option was to rid ourselves of the loudmouth of the bunch, Luna. Now you will know I love all my hens and we had searched far and wide for a lavender bantam last year before finding this grey beauty.  Whilst Buck Bucky is still the top of the pecking order which befits her great age and superiority, Luna was the bossiest and she has chased off all the others when it comes to treats. So, we decided that as long as we could find a good home for her we would pass her on and then try again to integrate Sylvie with the other three.
Putting Luna on a Preloved site seemed very callous but within hours we had found a farm that was interested in taking her. I scooped her up from the luxury of a dust bath in the greenhouse and before we could reconsider she was in a hen box and whisked away. She will be used to breed from and is going into a large run with a twelve week old cockerel so she will give him short thrift. I hope it all goes okay - I've asked that they bring her back if she can't settle but I doubt I will hear much now.
I feel like a rogue but it's all so that the family of hens can get along and we can start seeing an improvement in Sylvie. We've decided that Quails may be the way to go next if and when Sylvie settles in with the others - there is still a good long way to go yet!

Good luck, pretty Luna-bird. We've enjoyed your company.

The high life

Our oldest chicken. Up on the fence

As this is almost six feet tall and Buck Bucky is an old lady and a little bantam she either had a flight of fancy or hopped up onto the hen run roof first before ending up here. 

The front gardens gets a make over.

 Armed with my spade, fork, compost, hosepipe and seventy quid's worth of plants, I attempted to spend the happiest day in my front garden.

 Dripping with sweat as the sun bore down relentlessly, I spent eight hours cutting away at the grass, levelling underneath it so I could reuse it to level the ground at the edge of the wall, before digging up two blue containers-full of stones and replacing them with black compost to enrich the bone dry soil.

 Once I cut my shape our I worked in the compost.You can see how dry the lawn is from it's barrenness and colour.

 The blue container filling with stones, the soil enriched with compost.

Seven sweaty hours later (oh, what gratifying work) I had the fun bit. Planting up my new front garden.

The sunflower opens.

 Late July. It's centre just visible in a sea of green.

 Here we are in August with it unfolding it's petals.

 Three days later and it is fully opened.

 All of these will soon make up one large seedhead.

 Only four days later and the centre is filling out and has convexed like a toddler's tummy. Very rotund.

Not long till the birds will be landing on it to pull at the seeds.

Cheltenham's Copper Beech

You can see that this majestic Copper Beech is fenced off - or as befits the Spa town of Cheltenham - is actually enclosed by wrought iron. The Beech was planted when the park was first opened and I think it's two hundred years old. Sadly though, you can see the huge fungus that is infecting it and as such, it has had to be cordoned off and is in the process of being slowly treated in order to save the tree. 

Oh, I have so much to tell you........,

not that it's at all exciting but where has the time gone? We've had a summer here this year, I'd almost forgotten how lovely an English (or  indeed Welsh) summer could be; those warm breezes, the sun bearing almost too hot when the wind drops, the cerulean sky with a painter's light brush of wispy clouds heralding another fine day and padding about the lawn with no shoes on and feeling the downy grass crush and spring back under your feet. What's not to like about summer? I don't even really mind the flies and wasps that buzz around as they are joined in their aerobatics by white, brown and blue butterflies and bumble and honey bees.
Today though it's not sunny, it's not even blue - it's been raining for hours and I am tucked up in bed at 7.00pm typing away before the hens put themselves to bed and I can lock them safely away.
There is sad news on the hen front but tempered with possible good news too.
But where have I been? Well, I suppose I've just been enjoying the sunshine. It's been too lovely to stay indoors and type (hence the catch up now when it's 'piddling' down).
So, how have you been? Well, you aren't going to tell me so I shall just move on (although, do feel free to let me know if you want to - I'd be thrilled to hear your news).

Bun in the sweetcorn,

You may be aware of the passage:

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted

But very saddest of all, one of our babies - Betty the Barred - died expectantly one night about a month ago. 

I always mourn my chickens but this was especially sad as she was fine the day before and was such a bold little lass, just one year old and with so much fun to have and to give. 

Sylvie, her little friend, is also mourning and so we are now, after trying to integrate her into the big girl's house with no luck, back off to the farm we bought some of the other girls from in order to purchase some new girls for her. It always seems a little hard to just replace hens that you have loved but this time we need to get company for our lone chick. So this Sunday we will be heading over to the farm again with a cardboard box, a purse full of cash and some hope that we will get just what we are looking for. I did have such a soft spot for Betty but I hope if we do get some new girls (and how can we see some and not bring any back?) that Sylvie will have some company. I just hope the bullied doesn't become the bully but with chickens and their pecking order I'm guessing the big girl will throw her weight around.

The rain arrives

 

 Wow. what a lovely long dry spell we have had. It's been weeks since we have had rain. The ground has  been suffering but we have now got five  days of rain forecast with up to 30mm of rain expected the first day. I mowed both lawns this morning so by the time the rain stops we should have a great fresh green lawn.

Yellow Peril

 I don't usually plant many yellow plants apart from tulips and fritallarias but this year I have a rouge sunflower plant smack bang in the middle of the veg patch, an unknown flower in my wild flower patch, the giant Scabiosa by the greenhouse as well as the fennel and a lovely yellow courgette flower this year I seem to have exceeded my quota.

Larvae damage.

These little critters stripped the leaves of this plant in a  matter of days. Once the adult Sawfly creates a tear in the leaves she then lays her eggs and when they turn into the larvae they smother the leaves and munch on them till they are completely eaten. This happens every year with Solomon's Seal.

Coming out of it's shell

Here is one of those strange, shelless eggs that occasionally get laid by the hens. It's a perfect egg - just without a shell.

As sure as eggs is eggs.

We came home to two eggs yesterday. One in a shell suit and one without. These occasional eggs, without shells, are the strangest things. They are pliable little lumps of jelly that dry out and shrink after a few days. We've never eaten one but it's always a talking point when we get one.

Mum's garden.

I've got some catching up to do if I ever want my garden to look as nice as Mum's.

Something to aspire to.

Biting the hand that feeds you.

Poppy has gone broody! This dear little miniature chicken, the smallest of the lot, has turned into a screaming banshee. Gone is the timid, meek personality and in it's place is some bold and aggressive bruiser.
We'd been noticing she had been sitting a lot lately. When I say 'sitting'  I don't mean just sitting down any old where but sitting in the nesting box, hunkered down and getting very warm. This chicken hasn't been broody before and she was still laying a few days ago (they go 'off lay' when they want to brood) but she was showing all the signs of wanting to brood eggs so when I lifted her off her empty nest for the third time in two days and she puffed up and omitted a low growl - a tell tale warning - then we knew for sure she meant business.
So, our least favourite tactic had to be brought into business. She had to be put in the 'sin bin', the cooling off box. I've described this tactic before when some of the others have gone broody and I'm not sure if I've ever explained why we do this.
We don't run a cockerel with our chickens. We only keep the hens for their eggs so there is no need for a cockerel. We aren't breeding from them and a cockerel in a residential area would be a nightmare. I knew of someone who had a cockerel and to stop him crowing at first light (which in the summer time is 4.30!) used to put him in a roomy box in the under stairs cupboard at night. Not ideal and certainly not fair on the cockerel. So, without a cockerel there will never be fertilised eggs. However, our hens have their nesting instincts and every so often in the summer time they go broody. As this entails sitting on a nest of eggs for three weeks, all to no effect as those eggs are never going to hatch, we need to stop them being broody. If it was just a case of them sitting on the nest and after a few weeks getting bored with it when there is no sign of life in the eggs then I'd let nature take it's course. However, not only can a broody hen get seriously undernourished if she doesn't leave her nest to eat; she also becomes a menace to the other chickens; puffing herself up and growling at them which means they steer well clear of her and can't get into the nesting box to lay. Why not provide more nesting boxes then, I hear you say. Well, yes, there are two nesting boxes and a broody hen obviously only sits in one of them BUT she will growl and scare away the other chickens who in turn will protest loudly with plenty of squawking - it can turn into a cacophony of noise and this is not ideal if you want to live in harmony with neighbours.
So, no cockerel and no hatching eggs but plenty of noise means only one thing - this broodiness has to be nipped in the bud. The other chickens are happy because they can come and go into the nesting boxes as they please when they need to lay and the broody chicken is removed and placed in a wire cage. The wire is on the floor of the cage; it is predator proof and the cage is on legs so that air can circulate underneath it.
The aim is to stop the chicken nesting, she has no bedding material to make into a nest, she cools down and she tends to stand more than sit so very soon she is back to normal. This usually takes about four to six days and as Poppy has not experienced it before I hope she will soon be out of her grump and back to being the nice little bird we are used to.
As she hasn't eaten much, choosing to 'swoosh' her food out of her bowl when Luke twice filled it, I was concerned that she wouldn't eat enough so last night I lifted the lid of her cage and put my hand close enough to drop some seed into the empty bowl. With that the little blighter jumped up and pecked me on the hand - not a friendly bird at all.
This morning though she must be hungry as I've put some pellets into her bowl (dropped from a greater height this time) and she has eaten a few of those. She still grumbles if we or the other hens go near her so it will be a day or two still for her solitary confinement. Not a great process but she will be pleased to be back to normal, I'm sure - as will we all.

Dad's legacy

When my father died I bought some roses to dedicate to him. Here they are, in bud and full bloom. I love them.