I dream of a ball of mistletoe in the hallway

I must have said before that the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe should mean that for every kiss you have to remove a berry. So when I say I want a huge ball of mistletoe it's not for any lip action but I just think those green and white natural pom-poms look so impressive.These three are hanging from a tree in the garden centre and I looked at them longingly before driving off again.

I can't resist a bargain.

So, for the third time I have succumbed to the half price bulbs - this time at a garden centre. Since our local garden centre burned down just before last Christmas I have not really visited any garden centres and this has saved me a fortune but left the garden lacking much new colour. Online gardening sites still have some power over me to splash my cash but it's not the same as every day off being spent browsing the local garden centre. So it is a treat now to wander around, checking out the latest fashions in gardening as there is definitely a new trend each season. Actually I was only trotting into the store to use the loo after a long drive (yes, I don't believe that either) but had to cannily walk past all the bargains to get to the W.C. I ended up having a trolley full of MORE bulbs with some cyclamen and heathers to give a bit of above ground interest.
When I got home I enjoyed half an hour or planting, cutting back a wayward fuchsia that I never planted and can't seem to get rid of and tidying up the wisteria that has gone a little wild. Okay, it cost me another £25 but I now have a smart entrance by the front door and the knowledge that come March I will have some bright little flower heads pushing through. I won't think of the cost of it all then.

The last of the Autumn leaves

Our mighty Oak, after which the house is named, has shed it's final few leaves since I took this photograph three days ago. The last of the daylight shone it's golden glow on it for the briefest of minutes before plunging us into darkness. I locked the chickens safely away in their home and scurried indoors to warm myself.

Mellow yellow

It is possible to have year round colour  in the garden, even during our grey, long winter months.

Here are a couple of handy plants that are groaning with colourful buds.
The logs are in the log store, the bulbs are planted in the pots and the wild garden mats are lurking under a layer of top soil; hopefully all ready to burst into colour come next year's warmth.

Time to prepare for the Spring.

The clocks go back tonight; it's the end of British Summer Time and it certainly feels like it. Currently too wet to plant up, my second lot of bulbs have arrived (how infuriating to buy fifty pounds' worth of bulbs and plant them only to receive a second email informing me that all the ones I bought are now half price - grrrrr!).
I've bought some small Verbena plants too as I love how straggly and lofty they get in the summer. Like giant cranes wafting over the other plants as they catch the breath and move about. Whilst other people are addicted to shoes I get a thrill when a package like the one below arrives. I even get impressed with the packaging, how daft is that? What I will be impressed with is how they will look after a long old winter and it's bleakness has made us forget how much colour and form there is in a garden.

It's been a long, long time....,

Hello.
Remember me? No? Well, it's little wonder if you don't. I've not been blogging for quite a while and my garden has been left unattended although it has still pushed through and bloomed of it's own accord. It's a hopeful thing, a garden. Bringing to life things you had forgotten you even planted and rewarding you each year for work you did long ago.
My mum died recently, very suddenly after a diagnosis on her birthday which shocked us all. Another victim to cancer and nothing she could have done to prevent it or be cured. I've come back home after being with her in her last few weeks and I am finding solace in my garden. Having planted spring bulbs I know that next year, even without Mum, will bring some joy and colour. Nature has a way of moving on and taking you with it. So I hope I can dig my fingers into the soil and plant little rays of hope that I can share with you.
Thanks for waiting.

BUCK bucky bites the dust.

Hello,  remember me?  Long ago,  before we had what feels like more rain than in Noah's time I used. To be able to garden.  Since its turned into a big in our garden I haven't been able to pull on my wellies and get digging,  hence the silence from me.  Today though I wanted to share the sad news that our oldest and last of the original chickens we bought has died. 

Dear old Buck Bucky put up a great fight but succumbed to a respiratory disease today.
Now only down to three chickens the dilemma is do we get more.  We seem to lose them when there are no newly hatched birds available  but at least that gives us time to decide what to do for the best.
Whatever we decide,  Buckster will be buried under a rose and remembered with fondness.  G'night,  old girl.

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.