We started a tree hospital in our garden. Wilting self-sown spindle trees from the front garden and seemingly dead twigs were replanted with care in prime positions. I watered them every day and fed them a seaweed feed. After five weeks – a rush of bright chlorophyl-green shot up the stem of the smallest twig…
Tag: parenting
Almanac: Patterns of nature, ripening blackberries and a sketchbook
The last time I wrote about these fields was in late April. The seedlings had just started to show themselves in thin rows under a grey-blue sky. The house martins had just made their return to nest in the eaves of our house, and were circling above us in an otherwise quiet and sleepy landscape….
Potager Garden: Unexpected arrivals, bees in motion and the first potato harvest
We are still keeping up with the early starts. Bright light streams in around the tiny gaps in the shutters; getting up is not so hard when the sun is waiting to greet you. In the garden, the bees arrive dozily, a few at a time, meandering amongst the lavender flowers. Soon, there are countless…
Almanac: Early morning mists in the old forest
Lockdown is lifted and we can journey into the ancient forest again. An early start. On our short drive, the trees gradually reveal themselves in layers of green. The view is softened; we are watching the day form itself into shape. The mist feels like a fine spring rain, yet suspended in mid air. The…
Potager Garden: An old watering can, a gifted tree and patterns in the stream
The skies are greying and it is a glorious sight. After two months of very little rain, watering our little vegetable plot has become a part of daily life. The watering can is almost half the size of my toddler daughter, though she insists on tending to the seedlings herself. She has found a way…
Almanac: English oaks and white bluebells
My two middle sons run down the hill together, so close in age that they are almost the same height. The trees dwarf them. When I think back to this wood, I never imagine the trees being so tall; it seems such a close, small place in my memory. Spring is still with us and…
Potager Garden: Winter pots, the briefest snow shower and homemade lavender soap
Our toddler daughter has become custodian of the assorted terracotta pots of late winter bulbs. Every day, she carefully lifts them over to the raised beds for inspection. Each crocus is petted, kissed and whispered to, before being placed back on the wooden ledge. I wonder what she is telling them for it must be…
Almanac: Winter woodland – The delight to be found in the simplest of things
Dusk falls in the winter woodland. The birdsong echoes out more clearly without the rustle of summer leaves. My 18 month old daughter has recently learnt the word, “another.” From behind me, where she sits in her carrier, she excitedly calls “tree!” A pause. “An-o-ther tree!” A pause. We wait. Luckily, she has been distracted…
Potager Garden: Storm bubbles, tea and gingerbread
It takes a lot to keep our youngest out of the garden. This morning she could not understand why the rest of us were not keen to play out in the biggest storm to hit Britain so far this year: Storm Dennis is arriving today. Our garden is quite sheltered and I find the gales…
Travel Diaries: Scotland Tour – Sunset at Durness and a heather burning
We left our little holiday cottage near Scourie as dusk fell, taking the road north to watch the sun setting over Durness beach. Driving very carefully, due to livestock not hearing our car’s electric engine, we roll over a road marking that makes me smile. Slow is an instruction not just for the vehicle but…
Potager Garden: February 2020
My little helper, who pulls on her boots the moment she sees me fetch the kitchen door key, joins me in the garden today. I’m so pleased to see tiny crocuses popping up in the old terracotta pots I bought from the library plant sale last year. I like the look of these old frost-hardened…
Travel Diaries: Scotland Tour – A little cottage near Scourie and a riverside adventure
We arrive at our holiday cottage, a little north of Scourie, in the late afternoon. It is early April and spring has sprung in the mountains. The little garden is carpeted with daffodils and, just beyond, a small wooden gate leads out to the river bank. The skies are still blue, and the trees are…
