Igloo

We've had Hazel and Alex (friends from Cambridge: I was a student with Hazel) staying with us since Monday, when they braved the snow to get to us. After lunch yesterday, we managed to get our car along the lane to near the 'main' road (which is not main, but is at least properly constructed, and gets gritted/ploughed). The car's been at home since the 18th, so we took the opportunity to get it out, as the track will be impassable longer than the road will be. Anyway, that will at least allow us to attempt to get to work next week.

Alex's parents live close to my parents (near Ripon/Northallerton), and Alex and Hazel have been staying with them until coming to us: they went home this afternoon. Not, however, before helping us build an igloo outside the kitchen window. It looks marvellous, and is big enough for the four of us to enter. I suggested taking drinks and mince pies out to it, but I think everyone may have been too cold...

On Sunday, we went out to B&Q, and picked up some 'kitchen' wall cabinets. They're actually going to go in the utility, which doesn't have any storage space, but which would be really useful. Also bought replacements for the lights above the cooker, and some coat hooks to mount in the cloakroom. DIY for another day; maybe Saturday.

We're off to my parents' tomorrow, for the New Year, and then have the weekend at home before work kicks off on Monday.

The cats are unimpressed with the weather: they're barely going out, and are a little bored---and cold.

Christmas Day

Well, we're not entirely snowed in any more, but it's still pretty tricky. On the positive, it's very pretty; went out after breakfast (before turkey cooking) and took a few photos.

We tried a new way of cooking the turkey: I deboned it, and detached the breasts as one, stuffed it, and reformed it. Much moister, and no compromising with the joints (which will become some form of casserole).

Tomorrow is ham day.

Received a pleasing Titchmarsh fruit & veg book, along with some garden supplies, and some kitchen goodies.

Anyway; disjointed post aside, a good day.

Not Going Anywhere

We're utterly snowed in. It was a bit tricky yesterday (got a lift into town, in a four-wheel drive), but today, although, ironically, the (ungritted) track is passable, the publically-maintained (nominally) road it comes off is ice. And steep. So we're not going anywhere; at least not immediately. Hopefully the turkey will still be delivered tomorrow...

I'm delighted, in some ways, to be past the solstice: it'll be nice to have dawn creep back towards when we're getting up. On the downside, it can be a very pretty time of year.

It is, however, extremely pretty. And there might be snowman (and snowcat) making later.

In the mean time, we're pickling onions, and doing other Christmas-related baking. Aaah, holidays.

Halls Decked

An altogether successful weekend, methinks.

The plumbing didn't entirely happen, but that was deliberate, as it were---not to make it sound as though I wander around accidentally attaching pipes. I went up in the roof-space from the main bedroom (i.e., into the eye-level cupboard, then through the ceiling, as you do...anyone who's visited will know what I mean, at least), and discovered a lack of anything. The roof-space confirms my suspicion about how the house is put together, as the loft is divided into three, corresponding to the two normal cottages, and the extra 'half-cottage' that contains the kitchen and both bathrooms. This much wasn't surprising. Anyway, the loft above the master bedroom is largely empty: the one access hatch, above the stairs, and beams and wiring. All looks fine, and the waterproof membrane under the roofing stones looks in reasonable condition (sigh of relief duly emitted).

Now, it shouldn't really have surprised me, as given that the separation of lofts was logical, then the tanks should---also logically---be in the loft above the bathrooms, but there were no tanks in the loft above the bedroom.

So, I climbed up the shelves in the airing cupboard (well, with the help of a step-ladder), and clambered into the corresponding loft. Where, behold, there were two tanks. So far, all to plan. One (biggish) tank to feed the hot-water cylinder, one smaller tank to top-up the heating system. I thought it must be an open feed CH system, given that the leak in the dining room (in mid-October) seemed not to affect the water levels. Obviously, also much easier to refill than a sealed/pressured system.

Anyway, having established that the tanks are there, and relatively easy to lock off, I decided to leave draining the system and re-fitting the radiator valve to blame for the October leak. Come next summer, I'd like to overhaul the system:

• New (double) radiators where there are only old ones, preferably moving them (at the same time) further from the walls;
• Possibly a pair of towel radiators in the two bathrooms;
• Thermostatic valves on all the radiators;
• A new room thermostat (the existing one, to maintain the house at about 15ºC (which, given our homeothermal credentials, is all we heat the house to) needs to be set to 22ºC. This seems a little silly.
• Running a pipe cleaner through the system for a bit, and then replacing the water with corrosion-inhibited water.

Given the last item, I don't really want to drain and refill the system just now. Anyway, that lot will be quite a pricey operation (I'd reckon £2-3000), so it'll wait 'til spring/summer.

I was, while in the loft, delighted to discover that there was minimal insulation.

Sounds bizarre?

Well, only a little. The house is big and old. There's nothing I can do, really, about the walls (which are stone and rubble filled, so no chance of cavity insulation), short of attaching plasterboard mounted insulation on the inside, which is ugly, and will make the rooms smaller. That'd be a 'no', then. The windows are a mix of single, double, and single+secondary glazing: the double are mostly satisfactory, but the single's awful (both halls are freezing; the top hall's not helped by a complete lack of radiator), and the secondary's not great. It also doesn't ventilate very well. So new double-glazing is on the cards.

But the discovery that the loft insulation is sub-spec is great, because that's much cheaper to install, and should make a noticeable difference: the upstairs is reliably cooler than downstairs, and this---and the windows, which are worse upstairs---is probably why. Hence, a trip to B&Q (or somesuch) to buy around a hundred square metres of something suitable will be in order...(£300?). Oh, and the pipes and tanks will benefit from new lagging.

Then, the more exciting stuff: we put the Christmas tree up, and a load of holly, and bits-and-pieces; there are even gingerbread tree decorations. Also tried out a recipe for poached pears (our guests next weekend may benefit from the success of this experiment!), with ginger, star anise, vanilla, and cloves. Very good. And we even got round to hanging some pictures, which has been waiting a while. The lower hall is still full of boxes, but hopefully we can get them a bit more sorted over the next week or so.

Crumpets and Gooseberries

Sadly, the two are not properly in conjunction: crumpets with gooseberry jam would be a delight.

Instead, I have just planted the three 'Invicta' gooseberries, and come inside for a couple of crumpets (which, of course, were toasty-hot, and well-buttered). It's a surprisingly lovely day outside: crisp and clear, and not too cold if you're moving about. Sadly, I've had to come back inside to work, rather than spending more time pottering.

I might, if I get round to it, append this with a crumpet recipe, just because.

Local Plants

Found this article on the BBC Gardeners' World blog, which (in turn) links to a Natural History Museum site where you can find out the plants local not to your country, not to your region, nor even your town, but to your postcode.

Shucks.

In addition to a large number of plants not considered 'garden worthy', there are a few interesting finds:

• Common poppy, which I've seen about, but not many. Would be nice to try, alongside some not-so-common poppies;
• Crane's Bill (cut-leaved, meadow, and dove's-foot), which a neighbour has in profusion, and is rather pretty;
• Autumn Gentian;
• Foxglove, which--again--the same neighbour grows plentifully, and which does rather well;
• Harebell;
• Honeysuckle, hop, and ivy (just as well, as the first and third are quite popular with us!);
  
• Daffodil;
• Yellow iris;
• Wild pansy;
• Wild strawberry, so hopefully the cultivars will do well;
• Crab apple (ditto re. cultivars);
• Elder and holly (absolutely no surprise there, as the moorland around us is studded with both);
• Yellow loosestrife (so, again, hopefully the cultivated Lysimachias will thrive);
• Common comfrey (useful for green manure/plant food purposes!);
• Bilberry, gooseberry, bramble, raspberry, which all bodes well for the fruit bushes;
• Alder, ash, beech, field maple, hornbeam, oak, rowan, silver birch, white willow and wild cherry are all 'native', which pretty much covers what's already present, tree-wise.

Fascinating stuff: stick your postcode in and see the results!

Raised Nano-Beds

The plants that arrived earlier in the week have now been planted: we did them in half-buried pots (eponymously), so that they have better drainage, but can still extend their roots. we'll try to actually raise the beds next season, so they can be 'permanently' planted.

The Cambridge Favourite strawberries weren't looking all too happy, so we also potted them. Hopefully that will help...

We're now off to Cambridge (city, rather than some strawberry destination!) for the weekend, so there will be no more playing in the garden until next weekend at the earliest. The last gooseberry still has to arrive, and will then be planted, but we're almost done, I think, with major efforts for the autumn/early winter. I could, of course, collect the last leaves that still litter corners of the garden.

Oh: don't forget Tree O'Clock tomorrow!

All Bar One

At last, almost all of the outstanding fruit plants have arrived. The three blueberries (V. corymbosum 'Spartan', 'Gold Traube', and 'Patriot'), the 'Red Lake' redcurrants, 'Versaille' white-currants, and 'Wellington XXX' blackcurrant, and two-thirds of the gooseberries ('Hinnonmaki Red' and 'H. Yellow', but not the 'Invicta') are all now with us. We'll be trying to plant them on Friday afternoon, before we head down to Cambridge for the weekend.

We may plant them in (biggish) pots that are half-buried, to improve drainage chances, and so they cope better if/when we raise the beds...we'll see. The beds aren't looking too bad, now it's stopped chucking it down, but I think raising them would be wise, when possible.

Now I just have to wait for the last few gooseberries to arrive...

Tree O'Clock

While I remember: this is National Tree Week, and on Saturday (5th December), the BBC is organizing Tree O'Clock, between 1100 and 1200. The idea is to set a world record for tree planting, and free trees (2-year-old whips, it seems) are being given away all over the place. We've got a little wild cherry to plant. Go on, join in...

735 bulbs

Today's bulb planting was not such fun. Yesterday was remarkably pleasant: wrapped up warm, and the snowy valley was quite attractive. Today was just wet. And grey.

We started by sorting out the strawberries a bit: although they went in ok last week, we're slightly worried about drainage in the plot: it looked extremely wet yesterday, so we popped out to get some grit/sand. We've dumped some on the strawberry and raspberry beds, and tried to put some drainage channels in to help. It's been pretty wet for the last week or two, and especially over the last few days (the spring opposite the house is running at full flood), so it may not be fair circumstances to assess this, but I worry that some major hydraulic engineering may be required to keep the vegetable/fruit garden drained. However, we can't really implement anything (raised beds, drainage pipes, and soakaways) until next spring (financially speaking, if not temporally). If it doesn't look, later this week, like the beds are sufficiently drained, we'll have to lift the rasp/strawberries, pot them, and keep them in pots 'til spring. Not ideal, but better than them rotting off.

Anyway, once that was sorted, we then planted the rest of our spring and summer bulbs. In all, over the weekend, it's been 735 bulbs:

•    5 mini daffodils
  
•   10 Brodiaea (pots)
  
•   25 Camassia esculanta (pots)
  
•   30 double daffodils (extending the 300-odd on the SE edge)
  
•   30 'Cheerfulness' daffodils (yellow, with double trumpets: in the front around the Acer/hellebores)
  
•   30 'Pinocchio' tulips (in the front, around the evergreen bed, and in pots)
  
•   35 Oxalis 'Iron Cross' (pots, all over the place)
  
•   40 Anemone de Caen (under the trees in the S. corner)
  
•   40 Allium sphaerocephalon (pots)
  
•   50 small flowering Allium (pots)
  
•   50 botanical tulips (pots)
  
•   50 Scilla siberica (under the trees, again)
  
• 100 Anemone blanda (under the trees)
  
• 100 Puschkinia libanotica (under the trees)
  
• 140 mixed crocus (pots).
  

We also put five Helleborus niger around Christmas's grave (in the copse), and increased the three round the Acer in the front bed to five. Which, coupled with the 300-odd daffs we'd already put in, makes for about a thousand bulbs. And that's nowhere near 'done'. Oops. We also sorted out the garage, so the car can go away: hard frost predicted for Monday night, and it's no fun defrosting the car in the morning before driving off.

Snow!

Waking up this morning, with intentions of a massive bulb-planting operation, we were somewhat surprised to find snow falling. This, in addition to being rather unexpected, would make digging little holes, and delicately dropping bulbs in, tricky.

Nonetheless, the bulbs needed planting, so we put on six layers and two pairs of gloves (seriously) each, and went out.

It actually wasn't too bad. The snow didn't last past lunchtime, and we managed to get the woodland bulbs in.

There's still quite a few more bulbs that need planting, so there will need to be further wrapping up and planting tomorrow: it's our last chance for at least a fortnight, by which time it'll probably be getting much too cold.

T2BEYCEGTUDZ

Summer Fruits

Although the weather's been horrible (70mph gusts of wind, heavy rain, flooding in the next valley), we went out earlier to put the raspberries and strawberries in. Madness, I know, but they needed to be planted. We moved three barrows of manure onto each raspberry bed, and four onto the strawberry patch. In the latter, from the far side to near, there are now 25 each of Florence (late season), Cambridge (mid) and Honeoye (early) strawberries (two rows of each) are now in the strawberry bed. 10 Tulameen (July/August) are in the north bed, and 10 Malling Jewel (mid June onwards) in the south, then 10 Glen Cova (July) split between the two beds (6 north, 4 south) at the east end. All sorted, and looking good. Given the weather, I didn't cut them back down (the light was failing), but I'll nip out Tuesday, check them over, and cut the canes down to 8" or so. Of course, they're all summer fruiting, and thus we won't have fruit until summer 2011, which will keep us in suspense. In the spring (well, probably in January) I'll put the posts and wires that the raspberries need.

Oh; the sloe gin is starting to look a suitable colour: still has a way to go, but it's getting nice and magenta.

Sloely Does It

Having waited so long for the sloes, and then to find time to do it, we've just mixed up a batch of sloe gin. It takes longer than you'd think, pricking all the sloes. Usual recipe: 255 g of pricked sloes, 130 g of sugar, into a jar with 750 ml gin. I've shaken them a couple of times, and will continue to do so over the next few days, and then they'll go into the pantry to be shaken when I remember...

Due to waiting for the first frost to collect them, I'm not sure the gin will be ready by Christmas; it'd normally be left for three months or so, which makes it mid-February. Never mind...as I've said, I think picking them in October, frost or no frost, will be the plan for next year.

Inundation

Absolutely torrential rain in the early hours, and on until nine-ish. There's a severe weather warning, it appears, for the area: apparently we might get a month's worth of rain in 36 hours. It's quite a contrast, coming from the Fens, the driest part of the country, up to the Pennines. It does, admittedly, make watering the garden rather easier: calls upon the hosepipe are fewer.

However, I am a little concerned about drainage. One of the raspberry beds was looking a little soggy a couple of days ago, and it wouldn't really surprise me. We'll have to keep an eye on it: might need to dig in extra manure, or some grit/sand to improve things.

The other disadvantage of the rain is that it's kept me from getting at the remaining sloes on the hillside. I might have to brave the wet tomorrow (assuming it is), and get them in. I realised we were a couple of ounces short for a batch of sloe gin, so I need to collect at least a handful. On a similar note, the blackberry brandy is looking rather good: I'm looking forward to that. Might have to try some blackberry, and raspberry, vinegars next autumn. This thought is prompted by memory of a cafe lunch a couple of weeks ago---while visiting Thorpe Perrow---comprising a rather good ham sandwich (sounds simple enough, no?), but with a really tasty, fruity vinegar. In my normal fashion, having seen/found something I like, I now want to try making it.

Hence, I'd better get those raspberry canes planted.

My Cat Likes to Hide In Boxes

Very exciting (well, for me) evening, with two boxes awaiting on our return home. One was stuffed full of bulbs:

• 30 'Cheerfulness' (a bicolour double narcissus)
• 100 Puschkinia libanotica (bluebell/hyacinth like)
• 100 Anemone blanda (mixed colours)
• 25 Camassia esculenta
• 50 botanical tulips
• 50 small Alliums

And the other had some of our fruit bushes/plants:

• Two of the blueberries (Vaccinium corymbosum 'Top Hat' and 'Fruiting Dixi')
• 30 raspberry canes: ten each of 'Glen Cova', 'Malling Jewel', and 'Tulameen')
• 75 strawberries: 25 each of (early) 'Honeoye', 'Cambridge', and (late) 'Florence'.

We'll try to get them in the ground on Sunday. For the moment, they're sitting (bare-rooted, but wrapped up) in the utility room, which is cold and a bit damp. The bulbs, too, will hopefully go in the ground over the weekend. I'm delighted, because with the raspberries especially, the fruit beds will start to look as intended.

And the title of the post? Well, one of the cats has a particular penchant for empty boxes, so once I'd unpacked the plants, there was an all-too-tempting box on the floor, so in went the cat, with a little call and a bounce. So everyone was pleased with the delivery.

This morning, before starting work, and as the sun was just clearing the hills, I picked up another few bags of leaves. Despite the strong wind, it wasn't too bad: they're nice and wet, so they're sticking together well. I've cleared around the pots opposite the kitchen window, and around the potted strawberries (where the gladioli were until Sunday), and cleared the front garden (bit of a wind trap, so they accumulate). Looking much better...but there's still another half-dozen bags to collect, by my reckoning. Yes, I should have done them by now.

Bulb Arrivals!

Forgot to mention: when lifting the gladioli, we also planted four pots with hyacinths (mixed colours, in two large and two small pots). They're outside the kitchen window at the moment, where they can enliven the view in the spring. Some more of our bulbs arrived (40 Anemone de Caen, 35 Oxalis 'Iron Cross', 10 Brodiaea, five daffs, and 40 Allium sphaerocephalon): some are heading for the quiet corner in the east corner, some will go into the copse in the southern corner, once the rest have arrived. I don't want to try to plant the under-tree drifts before all the bulbs have arrived, or I'll be putting one on top another. So the early arrivals are in a cool, dark Green Room, awaiting their moment.

Lifting the Gladioli

Having been talking about it for some time, we've now lifted the gladioli. They're actually looking quite good; there's only about five I'd be concerned about. A lot of them still have last year's corm under them (it amuses me to think of un-lifted, naturalized gladioli lifting themselves over many years, on top of succeeding corms), so there's some tidying to be done. Several are splitting nicely, so there'll be even more next year. They're all in the garage at the moment (might need to move them to the workshop for a little extra warmth), and when they've dried I'll tidy them up and put them away for the winter. I'm wondering whether, next year, to cross-pollinate a few, and try to get some seeds.

After last Monday's frost, we went up on the hillside and collected a pound of sloes. I was expecting, based on how many there were in September, to be confronted with a bumper crop, but there were actually surprisingly few (and many split and unhappy ones): probably only about 3-4 lb. I think it's a bit late, really, though I was assiduously waiting for a frost; next year, I might pick them in October, irrespective of frosts. The purists, I know, will object, but better sloes that have been picked early and frozen then no sloes. Sloe gin mixing will begin tonight or tomorrow.

Completing the Fruit Beds

We finally finished cutting the fruit beds today, despite the wind (which wasn't actually too bad) and rain (which was, but only for the last hour). They're looking really promising, and I'm pleased with them: when there's a decent chance, I'll get a photo, to compare with the 'before' picture (which I've not posted; there's only a description of the plan). They got considerably wider as they moved 'up' the garden (really, along), and the soil also changed notably. At the copse end (southern corner), it's much stonier, and there's a shallower depth of good soil atop the clay. We'll need to manure it heavily, I think, but that's work for another weekend.

Before spring, I'll need to get the posts to support the bushes, and the wires, but that, fortunately, doesn't need to be in advance of putting them in, as they'll get cut right down to ground level when planted.

All Those Leaves...

Well, there's the answer to my musings about the fate of leaves on the roadside.

Frost

A fairly hard frost last night: it was cold in the evening, and almost entirely clear-skied, so no surprise. Defrosting the car was a nuisance: we need to clear the garage so it can put under cover.

On the bright side, it means that I can now wander up the hillside, and pick the glut of sloes that I've been casting covetous glances at for the last month or more.

End in Sight

A slightly misty morning, but quite clear, so we got 'straight' out to continue cutting the fruit beds. (A cat wanted his breakfast at 0720, which nudged us towards then getting up around 8.) We got on well, with rain stopping play neatly for lunch, and there's probably only another morning's work to cut the last stretch of both end beds.

As we progressed, the ground became noticeably more stony, which is interesting. As I was cutting the turves, rather than digging the ground over, I wasn't so aware, but Liz felt there were clearly patches of stones: perhaps remnants of a stone wall or stable. Either way, the stones to a decent depth (the clay underfooting) have been removed, along with roots, which are probably coming from either the conifer at the edge of the copse, or from the (overgrown) shrubs in the lowest terracing bed. Also of note was the change in soil: it's become noticeably more sandy as we've worked east. As before, we'll barrow plenty of manure onto the beds when we can: for now it's just dug over. The loam stack has taken over one of the future vegetable beds---I think the remainder will be sufficient to get started---and is looking reasonably neat: it's a bit more squared off, instead of resembling a ship burial.

We fleeced up the tender plants, and the gladioli: tonight's looking to be cold. Few more cuttings taken, too: an osteospermum's looking a bit leggy, so that, and a few of a variegated ivy. The gladioli will hopefully start ripening, and can be lifted soon.

Daffodils

Despite the vagaries of the weather predictions, it proved in the end to be mostly clear this morning, with rainy patches this afternoon, and not too cold. (This in contrast to the 'mostly clear' forecast on Thursday, and 'mostly wet' forecast last night.)

We made the most of the clear morning, and planted 200-300 mixed narcissi in a patch on the east border of the garden, at the top of the copse, before the bank. They're around the flowering currant we moved in a few weeks ago, and between trees that pre-date our arrival. Several hundred daffodils do not go far: they're around 10cm apart, which means that they only cover about 4 square meters. I hope they'll put on a good show in the spring, and naturalize well: they'll need some attention in a couple of years, to split up clusters and spread them out further. If there are any gaps, we'll deal with them next season (plant some bulbs next autumn in a nursery bed, let them flower, and then lift them to replant in the gaps); it looked like there were some reasonably small narcissi in the mix, so they might take a year or so to settle in. We'll probably get another few hundred next summer, and extend the planted area upwards, but they'll do for now: it's a nicely visible spot from the kitchen window, and should suit them. The rest of the summer bulbs (alliums, tulips, etc) that we've got ready will go into a new bed (more bed cutting awaits!) in the top corner of the garden, where there will, one day, be a seating area. Next weekend?

Having used the clear morning and early afternoon in the garden, we popped out to the shops this afternoon: new radiator valves (the big radiator in the dining room sprung a leak, and has been completely off for the last ten days), a new bike pump, and a food shop. Much excitement... I'll get round to the radiator repairs once I've worked out where the filling valve for the central heating is: my current best guess is behind the panel in the airing cupboard, with the hot water tank, but I don't really have much idea.

Cold Weather Closing In

It's been another cold and grey day, although fortunately one with electricity. I had hoped for a reasonable weekend (an optimism supported by the outlook), but the forecast changed a few hours ago to being wet tomorrow, although still reasonable on Sunday. Digging new fruit beds isn't really much fun in the rain, so we'll have to see if that happens. However, it might be dry enough to countenance putting out some bulbs (which is another necessary job)---and the temperature on Saturday night is expected to be negative, so I should also make sure that anything tender is tucked up before nightfall.

There're a few fuchsias that are tender, though we try to keep mostly hardy varieties. Other than that, we're going to need to wander round and check everything. I'll probably pop a list up on here, in fact, for reference.

I'm also working on a map/plan of the garden to post. I'm working from an aerial photo (from Google Maps), but I'm overlaying it with the changes we've made since the last fly-by, and the changes we have planned (in more or less detail). The aerial photo's actually quite recent, and I can date it quite precisely, as it was taken between me cutting the first half of the lawn, and finishing the second half, for the first time after we moved in. It's therefore in a window in late August, which is quite neat.

Lastly, I've played with the blog header, and managed to make it randomly load a different image. I've only set four pictures up, but I intend to increase the number. They're all crops of my photos, and currently all plants.

Grey and Powerless

We've got a 'scheduled' powercut today (some forestry work near powerlines), which is severely hampering my ability to work (limited laptop batteries). I was thinking, instead, of going and digging some more of the fruit beds, but it's also raining, and I know I'd get soaked (and freezing), and the ground would be too heavy to be effective. So I'm stuck, inside, in the gloom and the cold...

I'll retire to the sofa and find a cat to sit on my feet and keep me warm, I think, and find something to read.

Leaf Mould

I'm not sure whether it says something, but all the way home from work yesterday, I couldn't stop contemplating the leaves piled on the pavements. They'd make such nice leaf mould, if collected up: they were good and wet, and from really varied trees. Shame to think they'll probably just go to waste.

We've started collecting up the leaves from the garden, and bagging them up. It's a job by no means complete (there are loads of leaves, and on windy days I think more get blown up from the woodland in the valley), but it's a start. More effort, no doubt, at the weekend, and in a couple of years we'll have some pleasing compost.

Which leads me to another thought; we've now got two recycled pallets, so I only need one or two more and I can put them together to make a composting bay. Now, finding them (preferably free!) might be trickier, but I'll keep looking... It seems inherently right to reuse something to make the composting bay!

In other news, the cats brought a mole in at some point yesterday (we noticed it working its way round the kitchen at dinner), which leads me to wonder where they found it. Assuming---until evidenced to the contrary---that neither of them has learned to tunnel, I'm puzzled, as there haven't been any molehills in the lawn. Never mind; I'm sure we'll find out soon enough if we have a resident mole population. For now, that particular mole had a narrow escape (he was released, though pointed away from the lawn...).

Gladioli

Checked over the gladioli tonight: only four had discernible flower stems, two of which were spent (and thus were removed), and I brought the other two in. Having checked, it appears that it's not necessary for the leaves to die back before lifting them (although it might be preferable, I suppose): the usual criterion is to wait 6-8 weeks after flowering. As most of them appear to be blind this year, that doesn't help overmuch. While---if in the ground---they'd tolerate a frost, as they're in pots the frost might freeze the soil too much, which wouldn't be good. I think I might lift them this coming weekend, and get them stored for the winter. It isn't expected to get too cold this week (though it's very wet), so they should be fine waiting.

Strained off the rosehip juice that was prepared yesterday, too, which is looking tasty. It's been frozen for the time being: it'll probably be made into apple & rosehip jelly nearer Christmas.

Pie, Wine and Jams

The weather, as expected, broke last night: we've now got horizontal rain and much lower temperatures. No bed digging! Instead, we (well, actually, Liz) turned the contents of yesterday's Pumpkin Cat into pie. Much more successful than last year, attributed to microwaving the pumpkin first, and adding the spices last. Apparently. Whatever the cause, it's extremely tasty.

While she did that, I topped up the blackberry & elderberry wine that's fermenting: it was a little energetic when first mixed, and the airlock's been a bit gungy. I added water to top off the demi-john, and cleaned up the airlock. It's smelling good, and starting to clear. It's much more red than the blackberry that's next to it (which is very dark), which is to be expected. Still bubbling gently. I also sorted out some previous batches of jam (variants of blackberry, elderberry, and apple) which needed re-bottling (issues with sealing). Having done that, we realized that we still had some rosehips that needed a destiny, so they were topped, tailed, chopped and cooked, and are now dripping juice into a jug.

I must also confess a moment (well, several moments) of weakness, which led to ordering more goodies. Some narcissi 'Cheerfulness' (pale yellow, double cup: Liz was rather taken by them), quite a few Puschkinia libanotica (reminiscent of a hyacinth: white with blue streaks, which I think will go rather nicely with the S. siberica), mixed Anemone blanda, some Camassia esculenta (blue sprays of flowers on longish stems), some botanical tulips, and some assorted alliums (variety of colours, all small). Lastly, a dozen Christmas Roses (H. niger) for marking the first cat grave.

Pumpkin Cat

Only just in time, I carved a pumpkin to go in the window: unsurprisingly, with a cat's face. No fantastic artistry, but it does at least look like a cat.

In Bed With 'Flu

Although I'm full of 'flu, and Liz is still fatigued from her bout at the start of the week, we were back in the fruit garden cutting beds for the gooseberries and blueberries. Neither is complete (we're probably about 35% of the way there), but both are at least started. My turf-cutting technique is improving (just as well, given the number of new beds we're going to wind up creating---there were only three when we arrived, in half an acre), but it's still hard work. We wanted to make the most of a dry day: the weather's expected to breakdown considerably over tonight, and we don't know how many more we'll have before the plants arrive.

Some of our spring bulbs have arrived, too: Scilla siberica (quite like bluebells), Allium sphaerocephalon (purple globe alliums), mixed crocuses and hyacinths. Together with a big bag of mixed narcissi, they'll be going first under the main copse (in the bottom left, or south-east corner). When we have time to plant them, that is. I think it'd be better to do them all at once: if we do them in phases, we risk damaging the earlier ones in planting subsequent sets.

On the topic of bulbs, the gladioli need sorting out before very much longer. Most didn't flower, on account of late planting and moving up the country: I think we'll need to cut those that did, and cut off the immature flower stems of the others, to provoke their leaves into ripening so we can lift them for the winter. It's going to get colder this week, so we probably ought to do that soon.

Cutting the Berries' Beds

After laying out the bed design yesterday, we made the most of fine weather to start cutting and lifting the turf where the fruit beds will be. Having ordered the fruit bushes/crowns, we realised that there was nowhere ready to put them when they arrive, and so work had to start post haste on creating these beds. Although the vegetable beds are also marked out, actually creating these will have to wait until the fruit beds are made. Even so, we need, really, to get the vegetable beds cut before winter, so the frosts can help break up the soil.

The grass on the bottom tier of the garden is now rather long, as it hasn't been cut since spring (the previous owner of the house didn't cut it after we put in our offer, and it had got out of hand by the time we moved in). I'm not sure whether this makes lifting the turves harder or not: on the one hand, I have to cut through a thicker thatch, but the grass at least gives me something to handle them by. I fear the former, on balance, but I'm not going to waste the time cutting grass I'm about to lift.

We started with the strawberry bed, my turf cutting and lifting being followed by Liz digging over the soil. We were pleasantly surprised by the soil quality: there's a reasonable depth of good soil over the native clay, and relatively few stones (thus far). I reckon the modernizing owners (of the '70s) probably added considerable topsoil. That's the only plausible explanation for finding that much good soil where one might expect clay and stone. We managed to get the raspberry beds (one either side of the path) cut, too, leaving a path at the bottom of the garden in front of where there will, one day, be a hedge.

The resulting loam stack is where the rhubarb bed will be. This may prove to be unforesightful, when I want to establish that bed, but there's nowhere else particularly suitable. I'll have to find somewhere else for the turves from the other fruit beds, as they plainly won't fit in the rhubarb bed. Perhaps it'll make its way to the far side of the vegetable plots: it'll need a year to break down properly, that's the problem.

Spider's Web

Today we spent marking out the planned kitchen garden. It's at the bottom of the site, on the lowest tier of the garden, in a space roughly ten metres deep, and most of the width of the garden. It's bounded on the southern side by the fence at the edge of the neighbouring horse field; on the east by the fence with the neighbours' stables, and there's a dry-stone wall to a second neighbour's horse field, lightly planted with trees.

At the moment, the site looks like the titular spider's web: we used most of a ball of string and several dozen bamboos and sticks to lay out the beds. The path down from the left of the garden comes past the main corner copse, and leads into the kitchen garden. Eventually, we'll put up an arched trellis, or similar, to divide it off. I'm entertaining slightly whimsical thoughts of growing an edible honeysuckle over it, as the boundary between the areas for food and pleasure (are the two separate?).

Once past the border, there's a bed to either side. One will have the blueberries, with gooseberries opposite. As the site widens out, the next two beds will be for raspberries, and protected behind (north) of these are a strawberry bed, and space for rhubarb. That's the end of the soft fruit: west of this is a squarish area of around 10m edge, divided into about ten individual beds for vegetables: four L-shaped corner beds, a small round bed in the centre, and three L- or C-shaped beds in between. The main production beds are the four outer ones, really; the smaller central ones are at least partly to add interest.

On the west edge of the garden, past the vegetable patch is space for 'the' shed---either the existing one, if it can be persuaded to stay together well enough to move, or a new one in time---and the steps leading up to the middle tier.

That's the easy work done, unfortunately: lifting the turves isn't an easy job!