Why do I garden?

I've just stumbled back in from the garden - it is a bit cold out there now and I am pretty sure I heard the kettle call my name several times. Being on hands and knees and not moving very much whilst weeding (I love weeding, it clears the head and gives me permission to think or not to think, but to just be) however, I found I was clenching my teeth to stop them chattering.

First thing this morning - just after 7am, I pottered out in to the garden to take Moss for her first morning leg stretch and piddle and in the early sunlight I was taken how much my garden has gently moved on. We've been away for a couple of nights (wild camping up in the North Pennines) and in that short space of time - so much and yet so little has happened.

It said on the radio this morning that March had been the wettest on record for 40 years and although I did think it was a 'tad damp' (good northern understated term), I didn't think it had been that wet. I suppose, living in the lea of the Pennines we were bound to get our generous share of rain.

After a morning session in a private garden where I disembowelled a 14 year old compost heap on to very hungry and grateful flowerbeds. When I started here, the compost was an enormous unruly pile which dominated the corner it was residing in. It's taken three years to beat it back into submission and now after today's marathon digging and mulching, I just may have tamed the beast - I still have one more bay to empty but I can see that it is far less of a mountain in comparison - more of a molehill!

Just getting my hands back into the soil and feeling the weak sunlight on my face is such a boost. That combined with the scent of the awakening earth and newly emerging shoots is wonderful. However by mid afternoon the sun has slipped behind thin grey cloud and the temperature has plummeted - brrrrr. Definitely time for a brew. Happy - most definitely.

Happy

 March 1st is (meteorologically speaking) the first day of spring and, I must admit, as I shuffled about early doors this morning to let the dog out, despite the chill in the air, I think I could smell spring. Please let the next dose of winter be a brief one....

Walking this afternoon was gentle and a repeat of one we have done over the years - 'the dog loop'. In my last post I'd mentioned that although we'd enjoyed some cracking walks, I felt that it would just be a 'rinse and repeat' story and would be boring. But then I read somewhere that not every walk has to be an adventure or have jeopardy or lashings of humour to make it worth sharing. Sometimes the benign repetition of the act of walking in itself brings a gentle satisfaction and makes me notice the 'less noticed'.

This 'dog loop' has three versions, the concise gallop that fills the brief and fits in with the weather, then the slightly longer one, which involves stiles and gates and fields with space to run and chase (if you are a dog) and views to drink in. Finally the longer version which mean an afternoon has to be set aside and a tea filled flask taken along (with the obligatory accompanying biscuits of course).

Years of walking these 'loops' had made them 'invisible' and the sometimes felt almost like a chore. We dragged small boys, then slightly taller boys then all grown up with girlfriends boys along these paths. With repetition came boredom. So our walks took on new distant routes - further away and 'more exciting'.

Then covid happened and the 'exercise from home for no more than one hour and keep away from everyone' rule. These once little local routes became oh so precious and we walked them as often as we could. We re-learnt their quirks and fell in love with them again...and again...and again. 

Moss - along with probably half the village dogs and others who'd travelled (although not supposed to) re-found new places to sniff and scent and pass on 'peemails' to each other. Suddenly the stone walls had shapes and colours we'd previously just walked passed and just not noticed. Trees were appreciated, hedges and hedgerow flowers discussed, the sky and clouds admired. Our relief at being outside felt priceless.

Any hoo, walking the route this afternoon reminded me of how lucky we were/are that we can 'fall out of our backdoor' and be on a footpath in less that five minutes and in the landscape with a few steps more. 

And it made me happy. 

So, no - nothing dramatic happened, no funny stories, no being chased by cows or menaced by horses. No tea break, no biscuits and no rain.... just simple one foot in front of the other, chilly air and warm hats, a dilly dog and good company - what more could I ask for?

CoNgRaTuLaTiOnS!! 🎈🎈🎉🎊

I don't normally share faces of my family here but as I have been given special permission - I want to share how full my heart is for these two😃❤️ Youngest and his lovely girl.

We were invited to their graduation ceremonies and what a brilliant (and long) day it was - so very proud of these two!

And if you think you are going to see a sensible photo - think again! Life is too short to be boring.

Here is to the next step in your lives - may it be as good as today❤️

Pond Dipping

This time of the year gardening sort of completely takes over - you push push push leading up to this point with sowing seeds, weeding, potting up and pricking out gradually getting more and more frantic.

Then suddenly the garden explodes and the roses are in full bloom and filling the air with their sultry perfume, the foxgloves are racing each other as they reach for the sky with bumblebees busily foraging their every bloom. The daisies with their ever cheerful faces follow the sun, fill the borders and sprawl across the path.

For a few short but very delicious weeks the garden is ripe and voluptuous with indulgent flowers and intoxicating scents and I am happy. (well almost - there is that oxymoron of ... do I humour the daisies which are lying across the path looking gorgeous and enticing or do I constrict their happy laissez-faire attitude and corset them up with supports??) 

Definitely the former!

And the title? Pond Dipping? Well whilst working in a private garden today I accidently stepped off the edge of a natural pond and lost my left leg in the water.... I dripped and shed duck weed for another 40 minutes before I finished.  There was still water in my boot once I'd got home! There was only Moss to laugh at me and she was too busy sunbathing to even notice. Such a supportive sidekick......

However, I don't think I would have it any other way. Life is for living, for the here and now, for the flowers and their fragrance.

Hope your Thursday was a lovely as mine - but you don't have to pond dip (unless you REALLY REALLY want too!)

Simply gently wonderful

 We looked at each other over the empty breakfast bowls and half drunk mugs of tea and almost simultaneously said ... shall we go out in the van?  In what felt like record time, we'd packed and were trundling off towards our nearest coastal patch where Moss has a favourite dog loop (well lets face it she has lots of favourite dog loops but this one must top them all!)

Are we nearly there yet?

We arrived by lunch and within moments of stopping we threw the doors open and had the kettle on. On the horizon the clouds tumbled and turned black and looked incredible. We sat drinking mugs of tea and savoured our lunch as we watched a fantastic storm out at sea. There were a few splots near us but we must have just been on the fringe of the storm so we could smell the rain and feel the warm and blustery wind - it was elating!

Lunch as we wait for the rain to arrive

After lunch we set off with Moss leading the way - she knew where she wanted to go and we let her take us. She dragged us down at double quick time into the village of Glasson via the docks then over the swing bridge down to the Lune estuary edge. Once there we let her off the lead and we wandered in brilliant sunshine - it was so warm and the scent from the dog roses was intoxicating. There were so many butterflies about and we stopped several times to try and take photos but they flittered from flower to flower so joyously that we could not keep up. We watched the common terns hunt for fish, first hovering then plunging into the riverine edges then flying off to their nests with beaks filled with silvery snacks. As she sunbathed, Moss grinned from her tail to her chops.

Aw com'on peeps less bird watchin' and more dog walkin' says Moss

Our path continued along the disused railway line where we turned off and worked our way along the lanes to Condor Mill and then onto the canal tow path. Moss inspected every possible entry point so she could slip into the tepid water for a swim. 

Momma swan proudly watching over her brood

The swan family we'd noticed nesting a couple of months ago now have a family of cygnets on the water and I managed to snap a photo quickly before the adults became cross. At the marina basin Moss swam for a little while until we had to call her out and head back to the van - we could see the clouds building up again and we wanted to make sure we were not caught out in any rain.

The hugest cloud in the sky dwarfing Sunderland Point as it hurled rain down on the sea

Back at the van, dog towelled dry, fed, dozing and drying in the warm sunlight, we had a brew and watched another summer storm roll by along the horizon. As the sun dropped we were treated to an amazingly colourful sky. Moss slept through it all - she is a funny ol' thing - as soon as we return to the van from a jolly out she wants to sit in the cab on her bed and have a post-walk-nap!

Moss dozing in the sun on her mattress, warm and full of food - happy dog!

After we'd eaten we went back out for an evening dog loop (Moss was besides herself with wuffety happiness) returning to the van to sit and watch the sky darken as the sun slipped under the sea as we sipped tea. We sat there and felt absolutely at peace and gently happy.

Simple pleasures, simply gently wonderful. We all need more days like these.

Silvery blue💙

There is a thin line of magic at the point where the silvery sea and sky meet - the point your eyes can not see or reach but you know it is there.

Today I sat and felt that magic. Himself and I sipped hot tea as we munched on fruit cake, Moss lay at our feet in the sublime sunshine.  These last couple of days have been perfect and they have filled my heart. I will share some small stories from my weekend  - I promise xxx

#moreblogvember

Today❤️

 Was wonderful!

The internet is a little vague this evening, so please accept my photo of Moss through a small sheet of ice as an aperitif. 

The murmurations? Brilliant, will share soon!

#moreblogvember

July highlights

 

July - although not finished - has been a very full and busy month. Warm days with wall to wall blue skies and the occasional torrential thunderstorms. Work fills our time and we look forward to our weekends away in the van.

Work has been full on with the kitchen garden now producing things to harvest and the cutting garden suddenly in full flower. I absolutely love picking the flowers for the Saturday kitchen garden market. Last week it was armfuls of sweetpeas, daisies, astible, cornflowers, calendula, lavender, helichrysum, cosmos, fennel and grass heads.

We were lucky enough to share a lovely birthday weekend with Youngest's girlfriend, we spent the Sunday in Lancaster and the pair of them took us on a city walk - 7 miles later we'd seen so much. The Lancaster canal was obviously Moss' favourite part and we indulged her inner Labrador as she plunged in the cool clear waters.

Having the van has opened a whole new type of freedom for us and we still revel in the delight of brewing a fresh coffee or tea and drinking it as we take in the view. Apart from working and weekends, I have read, gardened, baked, stitched, played with clay. We've walked the dog and ourselves for miles and miles. I've summer pruned orchards and sown hundreds (and hundreds) of seeds, really excited to see them popping up.

So - here is to the rest of July, may summer linger a little longer, the nights be full of stars and the sunsets being fiery and fabulous.

Bluebell walk

We have rituals that are so special to us that when we miss them - we truly deeply miss them. 

Last year, no thanks to lockdown, we were unable to walk up a favourite hill and immerse ourselves in the bluebells.  We first went as part of a works outing in 2013 - and we fell in love with not only the flowers but the hill itself often returning to include it in our walks around the Dales. 

There was a gentle sweet scent on the air, drifting around on the gently warm breeze.  We found a spot just off the footpath, with a gently sublime view and we ate our lunch in companionable silence, apart from the bird song and crunch of dog biscuits as Moss tucked into her snacks.

It was a lovely walk and as we arrived back at the van Himself noticed a sharp shower flying up the valley towards us, so we quickly stepped out of our boots and retreated inside, lit the kettle and sat listening to the rain hammering down on the roof - safe and warm clutching a mug of tea. 

It felt good to have been out, it felt even better to have beaten the rain and kept dry 🚶🏼‍♀️🚶🏽‍♂️🐾🌻🌼🌹