Honey

We had a fun trip to the Ideal Homes Christmas Show yesterday, picking up a few presents for people—and a moose for us. For no better reason than we liked him.

Giles the Moose (© Ian 2016)

From the ridiculous to the sublime: we managed to get our new grandfather clock working this afternoon. As we thought, the chains for two of the weights had got jammed too high: my theory is that it was wound with a little too much enthusiasm, and the chains pulled too far, which sprang the hooks off the weights' rods. With a little care and persuasion, and aided considerably by the fact that the case has the removable side panels I hoped it would, we were able to work the chains down fair enough to rehang the weights. There's a bit of damage to the brass shells of the weights, but it's pretty cosmetic, and I've been able to resecure the weights (luckily, the threads don't appear damaged by being yanked free).

It's now up and running, and we'll next check whether it keeps time.

This afternoon's project was processing our first batch of honey from the bees. This has been sat, still in the honeycomb, for a few weeks since coming off the hive. First step is to slice the top off the comb (the cappings) using a large serrated knife. The frames then go into the centrifugal extractor, and are spun round to drag the honey out of one side of the comb. We flip them over, and do the other side, before draining the honey from the tank. From fourteen sides (two frames were only filled on one side), we've got about 14lb, which is a good rate. The cappings are now in a sieve, draining the last of the honey, and then we can clean the cappings and melt them: this wax is, typically, the 'best', as it's only been in the hive briefly (so less time for bees to traipse muddy feet over it), and only for honey (the comb that's used to raise baby bees gets dirtied from the process). It will probably be very light in colour.

A comb of honey ready for uncapping and extracting (© Ian 2016)

Apples and Berries

The older apple trees in the orchard (the ones planted some twenty years ago) have started ripening, and some are falling on windier days. While these don't tend to be ripe, and aren't great for eating (you can cook them: we may use some for mincemeat), they make brilliant fruit juice. Our apple juice endeavours in the past have been hard work, because before you press the apples, you have to crush them.

The traditional method, it appears, is to put them in a large vessel, and whack them with&emdash;essentially&emdash;a beam of wood. In the past, we've grated them, but that is hard and slow work. In anticipation of ever-increasing apple crops, we bought a powered scratter, which turned last night's job into a real pleasure. It's essentially a spinning blade attached to a 1kW motor, and it turns a trug (40l volume)) of apples into pulp in, oh, two minutes.

The pulp gets loaded into the press, which we squeeze down: from a 40l trug of apples, we get about 10&endash;12l of juice, which we pasteurize to 70°C, and bottle with a Campden tablet per gallon. Hopefully it'll store reasonably.

We also made our apple & vanilla Danishes, and almond pastries, today. They're delicious.

Almond Pastries, and Apple & Vanilla Rolls (© Ian 2016)

We started a batch of ginger wine, too (ginger, sugar and water into the slow cooker); tomorrow, that'll go into a demijohn for a couple of weeks. This time, Liz helped: it's not a surprise for her birthday!

Yesterday, we also started some berry cordial. This year it's mostly blackberries, with a few elderberries. They get boiled up, and left overnight with pectolase. Today, we strained them, added sugar and spice (cinnamon, unsurprisingly), and boiled that before bottling it.

Grass and Blackberries

A quick mow of the lawn, tonight: it's only growing slowly, but I'm trying to keep it trimmed whenever conditions allow, as I can't get that many cuts in before the weathers consistently too wet, I'm sure.

More pleasurably, we started a couple of gallons of blackberry wine off. 3kg of berries, topped up to a couple of gallons with hot water. Once it's at about 35°C, I add pectolase, and then leave it 'til tomorrow before adding the yeast (a general GV3). In five days, we'll strain it into demijohns along with 1.5kg sugar/vessel, and leave it to do its thing.

Beech Bench

When we ordered our bare-root hedging last year, we included a couple of dozen extra purple beech. They've been waiting, heeled in in the vegetable garden, waiting for us to be ready to plant them.

On the north-west edge of the garden, there's a large elder, and a large lilac with a holly growing through it. Between the two, there's a roughly 12' gap, in which a smaller lilac, and a potentilla sat. I have nothing against lilacs, other than that their season of beauty is relatively short, and somewhat unreliable. The potentilla has been a stalwart. However, neither really enhances the boundary, and it feels rather open (nothing in the sight line to the neighbour's big windows.

When we visited York Gate, we saw (though I didn't comment on it here) a bench that had a high beech 'hedge' grown behind and around its sides. It gave a sheltered spot, and formed quite a feature. We thought that the spot between the bigger two trees would be ideal for one, where a bench on the edge of the games lawn would be nicely combined with a feature visible from across the lawn, at the arched entrance to that 'room'.

Of course, this meant moving the lilac. The potentilla was easy, and has gone into the long border, where it's nicely filled a gap on the left end. The lilac was less simple, but eventually we managed to trench around it, cut under it, and drag it to the opposite side of the garden (on runners, which made it easier, if not easy). There, on the raised bank at the edge of the garden, between a silver birch and a sycamore, we dug it a new hole, and planted it in. At the same point, we've given it a good prune, as the shocked and reduced roots won't support as large a canopy: the smaller silhouette will also catch the wind less until its better anchored.

The lilac is now roughly above the blue hose reel, from this angle, in this photo from last year (© Ian 2013–14)

The space, those two out, looked perfect, thankfully, so we marked out a space for a 6' bench, and cleared a suitable border around it, into which we've planted 25 of the bare-root hedging plants. They look awfully twig-like at this moment, of course. Hopefully, though, the beech will grow quickly (it should), and in a few years, we'll have a pleasant, sheltered spot to sit.

Purple beech (left) and 'Golden Hornet' crab-apple (right) (© Ian 2013–14)

After doing this, we then dug the hole for the crab-apple, 'Golden Hornet', that was also waiting in the kitchen garden. This was rather easier than the hole for, say, the apple walk, and was quickly the right size. The apple's now planted (exactly the same mycorrhizal/stake/cage regime as before!), centrally on the games lawn (compensating for a planned border on the lower edge, that is), and is a good focus from the future bench.

The last job of the day was taking two branches down from one of the silver birches at the top of the colour wheel, which were damaged in the high winds of Wednesday. Tomorrow morning, we should be sowing a load of seeds: sweet peas, cineraria, tomatoes, chillies, aubergines; as well as potting up the All Year Round cauliflowers we sowed last month.

Hedge

In October, we dug a trench for hedge planting, aiming to make planting the hedge a quick job. It needed to be, because the plants we ordered were bare-root, and could arrive at any time. This had its problems, because they'd be stuck in their box for up to a week (if they arrived on a Monday), but we certainly couldn't leave them waiting to plant while we cleared the ground (stones and all), and heeling in 350 plants didn't appeal.

So, we pre-dug the trench, refilled it with stoneless soil, and covered it with weed membrane. The plants arrived on Friday (the perfect day of the week for them to get to us), and we've spent most of the daylight this weekend planting them out. About 170 of them now form the formal hedge up the left of the orchard. These are planted into crosses cut in the weed membrane, having been dipped in mycorrhizal fungi suspension. It's a random mix of myrobalan plums, hazel, crabapples, and purple beech. This should give a good combination of spring blossom, autumn fruit and foliage, and winter cover; good for us, and good for wildlife. We've planted them at 25cm spacing, and I'll top them in late winter, to encourage a dense lower section.

The bare-root hedging plants (purple beech, myrobalan plums, hazels, and crab-apples) before planting; far right is the crab-apple 'Golden Hornet' (© Ian 2013).

A further 80-odd have been planted along the less-formal boundary in the clearing above. We used all the plums in the lower hedge, so this should be able to get a bit taller, and the higher proportion of beech means it'll keep more leaves over winter. We want this to be more of a screen, so that the clearing feels protected and secluded.

Lastly, there were twenty 'Midwinter Fire' dogwoods in the delivery, seventeen of which we planted in a long drift in the birch clearing. When grown, they should guide you up into the birch stand, and form a backdrop to it. They look a lot like sticks, at the moment, though. We'll have to be sure to keep the bracken down over the next year, to stop them being overgrown, but that should be manageable.

The same bare-root hedging plants, along with 'Golden Hornet' and the 'Midwinter Fire' dogwoods at top (© Ian 2013).

There's still a bundle of bare-root plants that are heeled in to the vegetable garden, ready to plant as a hedge-edge along the back of the birch clearing. Fortunately, having planted the bulk (300 or so) of the plants, the rest could be heeled in until later. There was also a Parrotia persica (Persian ironwood) in the delivery, which is going near the woodshelter; but that's containerized, and will wait. The last part of the consignment was a 'Golden Hornet' crabapple, which is destined for the centre of the games lawn: that's also heeled in for now. There's not much urgency with that: it'll be happy heeled in until February, I expect.

Elderberry & Apple Jelly

After cooking the fruit yesterday evening, and straining for 24 hours, I had a pan full of elderberry and apple juice this evening. I think, in future, I might cook and strain them separately: I think the elderberry would have yielded more without the almost mucilaginous apple pulp. However, 450g of sugar per 600ml of juice, brought to the boil until it reaches 104°C, as normal. This one was quite exuberant, and almost boiled over several times, but we got there in the end. There was quite a lot of foam, which I managed to contain to one jar, which will be hidden away for us to eat on our own. The rest look rather presentable, with a dark, rich jelly.

Clearings

We spent this morning stacking a delivery of firewood, which means the wood shelter is almost full, now. Until I've used a half-stack, there's not room to stack more: for the first time in a couple of years, we can't saw or split more wood, as there's nowhere to put it; an odd sensation.

Of course, that doesn't mean there's nothing to do. Saturday morning was taken up with wall insulation matters (technical survey), and the afternoon we spent in the main clearing on the hillside, getting out more gorse, brambles, and bracken from around the stand of silver birches. There's now quite a nice path becoming clear that leads you from the entering corner (from the future apple walk), along the front of the clearing, then round a arcing 'ramp' towards the stand of trees. We've got twenty 'Midwinter Fire' dogwoods on order, many of which are destined for this clearing, to start building a woodland garden which will probably look its best in spring.

This afternoon, our attention's been on the other side of the hillside, above the apples, where there's another clearing, which we've not done anything with previously. The two will wind up linked by a short passage, I expect, but entry into this, left-hand clearing will be from near the James Grieve apple tree, where we think we might create an entry arch with four fan-trained plums forming a pergola of some sort. Early days, for that, though. For now, we were working out what needs to come down in the clearing, where the treeline will remain, and what we need to add -- mainly, some purple beech and hazels along the left edge, near the boundary, where the planting is sparse. We cut down a number of blackthorns, and next weekend I'll take Sigrid up and start properly clearing the undergrowth.

Before we came in, I collected a big bowl full of elderberries, from the tree at the top of the colour-wheel garden, where they're still clinging to the tree, despite the leaves having all fallen. The berries, and 150% of their weight in roughly chopped apples, have been cooked with 600ml/kg of water, until pulpy. I'll set them straining through a jelly bag before bed, and tomorrow they can become jelly.

Autumn Preserving

Last week, I started a batch of greengage wine, which was ready today for straining, sugaring, and inoculating with yeast. Into a demi-john it's gone, with 1.7kg of sugar, yeast and nutrients: it appears from my recipe that this one takes a good while to ferment, and the lower temperatures will probably increase that further. Never mind: it's tucked away in the airing cupboard.

On Sunday night we made a batch of apricot and peach chutney (with, inevitably, apples, onions, spices, and so on, too!), which is probably the last batch of chutneys for this year, having already made Windfall chutney and a date and apple one. The cores and skins joined a bag of frozen lemon halves (which I've been collecting over the last six months: zesting and juicing them, then freezing the 'discard' husks) in a big pan. Covered with water, and simmered for an hour, I've strained them, and made the juice into Compost Heap Jelly (450g sugar per 600ml juice).

That was last night: tonight has been the turn of rosehip and apple jelly. Another batch of apples were cooked down, and pushed through a sieve. 300ml rosehip syrup (from two years ago!) and 600ml of apple 'sauce', meaning 900g of sugar: cooked to 104°C, and jarred.

Blackberries

After several sessions, I've now finished painting the window frames for the year: I've done a little over half of them, and will do the rest in the spring.

In other DIY, I've replaced the fill mechanism in the downstairs toilet cistern, which seems trivial, but will be much better: it's taken increasingly long to fill since moving in, starting at about 20 minutes, and reaching a couple of hours, before packing in entirely a week ago.

We've sown a number of seeds, including some aquilegia ('Royal Purple' and 'Magpie', as well as some free-pollinated seeds from grandma's garden), and potted up a number of house plants.

It's blackberry season: we picked a couple of ice-cream tubs full -- all from the hillside. It's been really good to step out of the house and collect so much fruit: far better than having to schlep to the quarry, or a stretch of the lane, and lovely to have it growing in our own land. It's looking like nice fruit, as well, and there'll be more to collect in a few days, I think.

Some of the weekend's been spent putting together a plan of works for the next twelve months, to include, hopefully, wall insulation, a small greenhouse for the back patio (the 'big' greenhouse on the hillside will be another few years), the work on the colour-wheel garden, and a pergola/fence structure to enclose the drive. The greenhouse, if we go ahead, will be imminent; the pergola in the next few months; the wall insulation won't be until the spring/summer.

Elderflower Wine

We would have done this last week (which is closer to previous years batches), but my trip and then going to Cambridge made it hard to fit in, so we've had to delay until today before brewing a batch of elderflower wine. While I mowed the lawn and watered, Liz cut all the flowers off a big bowl of elderflower blossom, and after dinner, I set it off. That entails pouring a gallon of boiling water over the flowers, and adding 250g of chopped raisins, 1.5kg of sugar, the juice of three lemons, and a splash of strong tea (for tannin). In the morning, I'll add yeast and yeast nutrient: next Monday, I'll strain it into a demi-john.

Path Clearing

Yesterday evening, I managed to spend three quarters of an hour on the hillside, clearing some of the grass, brambles, thistles, and other weeds with Sigrid the brushcutter. I managed to cut a path roughly from opposite the garage, along the bottom boundary, and then up the natural path all the way to the entrance to the first, main clearing behind the treeline (which wasn't so grassy, but had bracken ready to cut). I cleared quite a large area around the plums and pears, in doing so, as well as a big stretch of brambles up in the corner.

The square in the bottom right corner (opposite the colour-wheel garden) is full of cow parsley, so I'm planning to leave that alone for now, as it's pretty; but I'll cut it down once that's over, as it's also full of nettles. I'd like to provoke them into new growth, as they're starting to flower, which means they're no longer much good for cooking, or making into cordial or beer/wine.

This evening, we took advantage of an offer at the garden centre, and bought a border-size spade and fork from the Joseph Bentley range. 'My' spade (the one that's the right size for me) that we bought a few years ago is lovely to use, and we added a fork last autumn. The border tools are a bit narrower, which will come in handy when working in and amongst plants, as the digging-sized tools can be a bit cumbersome then. They're all really nice to work with: strong heads, and wooden handles are a pleasure to handle (and they're never cold, in the winter, to the touch). 

Coming Into Leaf

The weather's been kind for the long weekend, meaning we've been able to get out all three days. Saturday and Sunday morning were both spent sawing, splitting, and stacking firewood, which isn't particularly noteworthy.

We spent a lot of time weeding the top bank, which is now looking immeasurably better: there are going to be dozens of foxgloves, soon, and hopefully the whole bank will look good. We planted a couple of dozen white cosmos ('Purity') that we've grown from seed, too.

I weeded around the Japanese quince while Liz began this weeding, pulling out about three trugs full of nettles and goosegrass. To start with, I cut the tips off the nettles, and started a batch of nettle cordial, using these, later in the day.

In the kitchen garden, I've overhauled the irrigation system, which is now ready to use once more (if we get warm, dry weather for any length of time!). The green roof is now well into germination, and seedlings abound. Today we planted out the five courgette plants, each under a plastic cloche. None of the curcubits we planted last year came to anything at all, so we're both hoping for a better crop this year.

The front garden received a lot of attention this morning, and we took out several trugs of weeds and rubbish from the paving, planted wall, and beds. The ivy needs cutting back (and the Virginia creeper needs more support wires, and the hanging basket that fell of that wall needs re-hanging), but they'll wait for another day. We need to replace a few things in the wall, where the plants have been overgrown by grass: possibly some dianthus we have growing from seed.

Most pleasingly, we uncovered loads of little hellebore seedlings under the acer, which I've carefully transplanted, so we now have forty tiny hellebores in a module tray. Of course, they'll take about three years to flower, but there you go.

While in the front garden, I lifted the slab in front of the gate, which was rather sunken, and have lifted it by a couple of inches: it's now level with the paving, and less of a step down from the lane.

We also went up onto the hillside. The deer/rabbit damaged stems of the Scot's pines are now all pruned out, and I've sprayed all the pines with animal repellent. A few of the fruit trees have had second ties added, further up the stem, to stop them rubbing. All the trees have now, finally, come into leaf (the walnuts are lagging slightly, but are on the way). James Grieve is in flower, as is the 'Spring Glow' plum. Only one of our established (anonymous) apples is in bloom (one next door, in Peter and Sara's plot, is), but almost all the others are in bud. Just one doesn't appear to be, yet.

As has been reported elsewhere, the cold winter and late spring means that there's a lot of blossom, so we're hopeful of a bumper crop from the established trees, and maybe a few fruits from the new plants.

I cut down several of the hawthorns that were between the apples: it's looking as though we'll be able to find space for up to another ten trees, once the hawthorns, blackthorn, and scrub is fully cleared, so we're making a start on removing this, so we can get a proper picture of the space available. I'm going to try to get out with Sigrid to clear some of the bracken and brambles this coming week, as we have visitors at the weekend, who will want to look 

Lastly: the dandelion wine, which I finished on Thursday, is now sat, bubbling away beautifully. I'm hoping to start a batch of beer, and maybe some nettle wine, in the next week or so.

Dandelions

One thing I like about writing this diary is the way it throws seasonality into sharp focus.

For example: the third week in May is, evidently, a time when—having fallen out of the habit over the winter—I suddenly need to start cutting the lawn again. It was untidy in 2010, and again last year. I cut the grass about 5 weeks ago, and haven't managed to do so since (the age old problem of 'no time when the weather's right'), and it's grown more in the past five weeks than the preceding five months.

Still, I managed to cut around the lawn, and at the bottom of the slope, yesterday evening, and finished off with the games lawn tonight. It really needs raking up, as the grass was too long to collect properly in the mower, but that's for another night.

Before cutting, though, I made the most, last night, of the sea of dandelions, and cut a pound of petals to make this year's batch of dandelion wine. This is another seasonal thing: last year was a week earlier, but similar point in the year. The petals, with a gallon of hot water poured over them, will steep until tomorrow night, when I boil them with the peel of four oranges for ten minutes, and then pour into a demijohn over sugar (3lb), with the usual yeast and nutrient.

Birthday and Cordial

This weekend was Liz's grandma's birthday, which meant a big family gathering at Liz's uncle's house. It was a nice day, and it was good to see everyone. Katie made rather an attractive cake:

The cake that Katie made (© Ian 2012)

Yesterday, though, was spent outside, sorting out wood. However, we managed to pop out to collect blackberries, the fourth lot this autumn. Having done so, we amassed the remains of last year's frozen blackberries, bilberries, and damsons, with a view to making a spiced berry cordial for the winter. Last year we had a (roughly) 50:50 split between blackberries and elderberries—but there are almost no elderberries this year. We managed to collect a miserly 100g.

Nonetheless, we pulled together 4.5kg of fruit, made it up to 6l with hot water, and then boiled it down to 4.5l. Tonight, I've added pectolase, which will break down the fruit, and release more juice, and then tomorrow I can squeeze and strain all the juices out. Next, you add 2.25kg of sugar (500g for every original kilo of fruit), and boil it for five minutes with spices (allspice, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves).

Bottled, it should store into the new year.

Bracken

The blueberries in the fruit garden aren't doing too well; the smaller ones haven't grown much this year, and the leaves haven't looked especially healthy. My opinion is that they need mulching, but the problem is that they're ericaceous, and need an acidic, sequestered-iron-rich soil to cope. The topsoil we filled the beds with is, probably, not quite what they want, and although it will gradually become more suitable, I don't think they're happy.

So: what to mulch with? I don't want to buy ericaceous compost, and would rather find an alternative. Pleasingly, there seems to be one: composted bracken. Composted pine needles, bark, heather, and bracken all appear to create an ericaceous compost—Monty Don has a Guardian article some years ago extolling it. Bracken is something we have lots of. There's probably half an acre on the hillside opposite the house that's covered with it, so this evening we've been up and filled a cubic-metre dumpy bag with bracken.

I'm going to set up a Dalek-style plastic composter somewhere inobtrusive, and fill it up with the bracken (and some 'active' compost, to get it going), with the aim of mulching the blueberries with something they'll like in the spring. If it works, there's more than enough bracken out there to compost significant amounts, which will be invaluable as a mulch for all the calcifruge plants in the garden: the heathers, raspberries, rhododendrons will all prefer it, as well as the Vaccinum fruits (cranberry, blueberry, bilberry and so on).

Knee-High

It's been absolutely ages since I last mowed the lawn, as I've never had a coincidence of the time and the weather to do so. The grass has, therefore, looked awful, but there's been little I could do about it. So, today, we tackled it, as it's been dry since last Friday. A horrible job, that's taken almost the entire day (well, you try mowing half an acre of lawn that's been left two months, with a Flymo), and completely filled a compost bin with clippings.

Fortunately, I spent a while yesterday turning the compost, and now have a bay of ready compost, a bay of 'nearly' compost, and, now, a bay of grass clippings, mixed with stable muck from next door's horse.

The lawn looks immeasurably improved, though it will look a different kind of terrible tomorrow, as it's had such a proportionately severe clip.

We popped out in the middle of the day, including taking a load of scrap metal (including corrugated iron dug out when planting the fruit trees, two old bike frames, and the old TV aerial) away. That generated the princely sum of £8, which will at least buy a few plants. While we were out, we checked the damson that gave us a foraged bonus last autumn, but sadly it's bare. No surprise: none of our cherries or plums have any fruit this year, and we've only one apple (no pears or quinces), and there're only about four apples on the hillside. The one exception is our ornamental/edible dwarf cherry, the exact name of which escapes me. That had its best year yet, with several dozen (tiny) fruit. Very tasty, but each one's the size of a blueberry, with a 3–4mm stone, so not that substantial!

Elderflower Champagne

Funnily enough, it's exactly the same date that I made elderflower wine two years ago. Having so enjoyed that batch, but wanting to branch out, this time I've made more: about three gallons.

• 500ml of elderflowers (roughly trimmed from the stalks, and loosely pressed into the measuring jug)
• 1.5kg sugar
• 250g of chopped raisins/sultanas
• 4.5l boiling water
• 2-3 lemons' juice
• yeast nutrient & yeast

Tripled, in this case, but those are the quantities for one demi-john. One puts all the ingredients except the yeast into the bucket, and leaves it until it's about (or no warmer than) 20–25°C, when the yeast is added (tomorrow morning, realistically). I'm using Gervin GV3, which copes with higher alcohol content, and ferments well in the 12–30°C range, which is roughly what it will experience: it's also designed for sparkling wine.

That's because, this time, when the hydrometer reckons that the specific gravity has dropped to 1.010, I'm going to syphon off several bottles for transforming into champagne. I've been stockpiling strong/fizzy drink bottles of about 1l, specifically for this purpose: I'm planning about six bottles of champagne, and will leave the rest to become 'normal' wine.

Of course, last year's elderflower wine has only just been bottled, but these things take time, and we're out of 2010 vintage.

Syphoned

A big bottling session! The elderflower rosé, the elderflower, and hedgerow port have all been bottled: about half a dozen bottles of each, with some leftovers. The elderflower is good; the rosé and port need to mature a little, I think.


That leaves the dandelion wine fermenting in the airing cupboard, and the Demi-John That Must Not Be Named hidden elsewhere. In the next few weeks I'll get some more elderflower going: the trees aren't quite ready yet, though.

Planting Up

We've had a very filled few days, finishing our week off from work. We've planted up the newly found bed outside the dining room (previously gorse, cotoneaster, conifer and laurel), having taken out the first three, and cut right back the laurel (which might, with some luck, re-sprout: apparently, they do). It's got a number of legume wigwams in it, chosen to be decorative as well as productive. We've had a hard time getting them to germinate, so it may be a bit disappointing.

The new bed before/after (© Ian 2012)

We finished digging the beds to either side of the septic tank, too. On the pond side, this is matched by a little extension of the bank, which forms a connection between the pond section, and the games lawn section. It'll eventually have a willow arch, which is at the moment just a pair of willow plants on either side, swaying in the wind. The bed on the pond side of the tank is wider (about a metre) than the games lawn (about half that: there's less space to play with, with the constraint of a badminton/short tennis court on the lawn). Both are now planted with more willow (a mix of red, gold, and osier): there aren't enough of these yet, but they'll form a living tunnel/arch over the tank cover. The pond side also has a run of edible hedging plants in front of this: myrobalan plums, cornelian cherries, and hazel.

The quince has finally been planted, between the seating corner, and the copse. That's now all of the fruit trees in the ground, and they're all doing well. The bare-rooted ones were dosed with mycorrhizal fungi when planted, which has hopefully helped them establish. I don't have a control group, though, so who knows.

The vegetable garden is now fully planted (that is, it's full), as the leeks, swedes, courgettes, brassicas, spinach, and celeriac have all gone out. There are more brassicas (PSB, other caulis, savoy cabbage) growing on in pots, ready to go out later (in the space vacated by pototoes), and we'll also be sowing some turnips. Of course, we'll sow more radishes, spinach, salad leaves, and things like that, as space arises.

I thought some before/during/after photos of The Chipping Heap would be fun:

The Chipping Heap (garage end) (© Ian 2011–12)

The Chipping Heap (kitchen end) (© Ian 2011–12)

Lastly, we replanted our hanging baskets for summer (replacing the winter-season scheme's white heathers with petunias and lobelias), and putting the remaining plants with pelargoniums, fuchsias and cineraria into other pots for the front garden. The tomatoes, peppers and chilis have been planted into larger pots, to continue growing on windowsills. We then retired, tired.

Surprise Brewing

Little does Liz know, but I have started a surreptitious batch of ginger wine. I don't like ginger wine (or various other ginger derivatives: my personal nightmare dish is melon with parma ham and ginger), but she's fond of it. Because of the asymmetry, we never buy any, so I thought I'd make her some for her birthday. It's safe for me to discuss it here, as she never visits. Touch wood.

It's a little more involved than some, but quite straightforward. Peel and roughly chop 200g of root ginger into a slow cooker, and add 600g of sugar and the zest of three lemons. Add about 2.5l of boiling water to the pot. 'Cook' overnight. Pour into a demijohn (a bucket would do), and allow to cool to 25–30°C. Add yeast (I used GV3, and added vitamin B tablets and yeast nutrient) and pectolase. Leave it for 24 hours, then add the juice of those three lemons.

Thereafter, stir (agitate) daily for a fortnight. At that point, I'll strain it into a clean demijohn, add 400g of sugar, 350g of chopped raisins, and another 50g of ginger (probably grated). That will ferment for a further ten days.

At this point, you need to bring the fermentation to a halt, while there's still some sugar. It'll need straining again, and this time a Campden tablet and a few grams of potassium sorbate get added. It should clear in a couple of weeks, when 150ml of brandy gets added, and I'll make it up to a gallon. I'll bottle it into 75cl quantities, and it'll then go in the cellar for a couple of months (or longer).

Hopefully, it'll be tasty—though I may not think so personally.

Less secretively, we also started a nettle cordial. This, by contrast, is shockingly simple. Collect nettle tops (the top 3 pairs of leaves), wash and spin dry, and put in a covered container. Add 1kg sugar, 500ml boiling water, and 40g citric acid. That's done: it now gets stirred daily for five days, at which point it will hopefully be delightful. It is, in fact, already smelling pretty good (hint of gooseberry, I think), and the liquid's going slightly pink. Results, as you'd expect, will follow.