Bill Owens: Consume

Cerinthe Major Purpurescens at Blakesley Hall

 

I have coveted these beauties since I saw a stall holder at Bakewell farmers' market including them in her hand-tied garden flower bouquets.  Oh wow, I thought, why haven't I thought to grow these flowers.  Growing them couldn't be simpler, you just throw the seeds into the soil sometime round about mid to late spring, cover lightly then wait until they flower in earlyish summer.  And, as these little fellows are prolific self-seeders, you'll have plenty in your borders next year.  They'll need a bit of protection over a hard winter, given that they are Mediterranean evergreens, but these glaucous leafed delights are worth even this little bit of effort, especially if you treat them as a hardy annual.

The Cerinthe here were covered in bees, even in October, so you'll be giving your local bee colony an autumn treat if you get a bush or two into your garden.

 

The only difficulty I've had with Cerinthe is getting hold of the seeds in the first place.  You'll have to shop online (no great hardship), but if we are as a nation and a global community supposed to be taking action to reverse the global decline in bee colonies, it might help to shift these seeds into the budget range at B&Q.

 

 

And don't forget, December's farmers' market is held a week early for Christmas, on Saturday 22 December.  See you there.

First Sunday of Advent 2012

It's not that I've been slackering about for the better part of this year; quite the contrary.  I've spent most of this year with clients, my new favourite clients in particular. 

 

 

Here we are at the end of the year / start of the new year and we've restored huge tracts of their walled kitchen garden.  In the next month or so I want to make a start on a new orchard.

 

 This isn't their house - theirs is Victorian, this is Tudor; Blakesley Hall, a timber-framed house built in 1590 by Richard Smalbroke, a member of one of Birmingham’s leading merchant families.  I dropped in earlier this autumn on the way to or from Birmingham airport with the Irish rellies.  I rather like the juxtaposition of perfectly preserved and restored Tudor buildings, underneath the flight path of a major international airport...  Castle Bromwich Hall Gardens is as bad! 



 

One of the lovely young graduates working at Blakesley Hall has an Etsy shop, selling lovely, lovely, gorgeous things, and when she gets the mice-shaped Christmas tree hangings on there, I'm snapping the lot up.  Click on into her shop TheLittleLandOfMe and check for yourself!

Trailing Geraniums in the Rain

I bought these geraniums early last summer for 25p each, wilting and half dead under the neglectful care of a major DIY chainstore.  No worries, for as my charming, witty and erudite readers know geraniums or more properly Pelargoniums, are South African natives and can thus withstand a bit of drought and heat.  

Pelargonium is a genus of some 200 species.  Commonly called geraniums, the true Geranium is a separate genus of related plants often called cranesbills.  Cranesbills are thorough repellent plants that make my life a misery with their appearance each spring where I thought I'd finally managed to dig them to destruction the previous autumn.  Not so much perennial as ever-bloody-lasting; once one arrives in your garden, it seeds itself wantonly until every part of your garden is infiltrated.

Most of the plants you'll see sold as garden geraniums are in fact pelargoniums, as opposed to true geraniums or cranesbills.  No matter, just look at these beauties, and the rejuvenating qualities of great compost, plenty of moisture and an adoring lady gardener. 

Pelargonium "Lavender"

Pelargonium "Red Star"

Pelargonium "Violet"

Now is the time to sow your Pelargonium seeds, usually 6 seeds in packet for 2.99£.  You can of course, wait to pick up the plug plants, also 2.99£ for 6, but sowing your own seeds is so much fun.  Ten days ago I sowed Mr Fothergill's Moulin Rouge, the classic signal red geraniums you'll see everywhere in France. Once the risk of frosts has passed, in sunny Derbyshire that usually means mid-May, I'll have them outside in large terracotta pots on the terraces, lining the steps in the kitchen garden and flanking the drive and the outhouses.  In late February my thoughts turn towards our house in France, and France, and St Malo, and I'm happy.

My Grandparents' Best Man

Happy birthday Míċeál.

...As she stepped away from me, and she moved through the fair.  And fondly I watched her move here and move there.  And then she turned homeward with one star awake, like the swan in the evening moves over the lake...

 

Lonely Island; Rap vs The Power Ballad

"Hi guys.  I've written you a big sexy hook for your track." 

It starts off innocently enough; a hook; a Yeahhh; a Come On. Then this massive power ballad takes over.  Don't you just love The Lonely Island?  "You complete me."


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GI6CfKcMhjY

Hosta Bressingham Blue

Rosa Constance Spry & Zantedeschia Aethiopica Crowborough

This most beautifully scented of all David Austin's climbers, mixed in with my MiL's Easter lilies, Zantedeschia aethiopica 'Crowborough' and a repellent zebra striped invasive grass that I so dislike I refuse to remember its name.  But just look at that rose; not a speck of blackspot.  "Constance Spry" smells like my childhood Tiny Tears.

Part of November's Slacker Diaries Part 22 catch-up posts...

Harry Redknapp Threatens Media Silence

Yeah right.  The words "Hell" and "Freeze over" come to mind...  But it was a hand ball.

Unbelievable But True Nonetheless

British people love to tell each other that the warm summery weather we are currently experiencing is an Indian Summer.   It isn't really; it's often like this in early autumn, but we do so love our colonial past, and like to wheel it out for a flaunting whenever the opportunity arises, especially when we are eating curry.

The reason I'm telling you this is to ease my charming, witty and urbane readers into the following startling disclosure;  I've finished potting up all the spring bulbs.  Yes.  I popped the hyacinths into pretty bowls and blue and white, lidless Victorian tureens in September.  The fragrant crokes went into washed food tins from Cora and the scented Narcissi went into smallish terracotta pots from B&Q this morning.  I've planted everything into gritty sand, and topped off the bigger bulbs with a fine scattering of white gravel chippings.  No more compost-ridden window ledges for me.

It's been a delight, standing at the long garden table potting up my bulbs under the  autumn sunshine, cup of tea to hand.  Even more delightful after I took the loppers to the blasted bay tree that overhangs the table on the top terrace.  I've lifted the crown by perhaps 4' and in doing so have increased the direct sunlight falling onto the perennials in this part of the border.  This will enable me to plant another rose (from David Austin) and drop a miniature lavender into the border's front, and increase the amount of spring bulbs here, too.

The bay branches are going into the outhouses to store and dry out a bit.  Then I'll strip off the leaves and thread them onto garden twine together with dried and scented oranges, pine cones and other wintry treats.  I'm planning to drape this along the banisters at the top of the stairs, and down into the hall around the handrails.  Should look and smell delicious.  Alternatively, I could chuck the bay branches onto the bonfire, where they'd ignite like a mad thing.

Over The Mountains As Sunny Derbyshire Turns Towards Autumn

Lilium Stargazer

Remember this? Here they are.

Seamus Heaney: Miracle

Not the one who takes up his bed and walks
But the ones who have known him all along
And carry him in -

Their shoulders numb, the ache and stoop deeplocked
In their backs, the stretcher handles
Slippery with sweat. And no let up

Until he's strapped on tight, made tiltable
and raised to the tiled roof, then lowered for healing.
Be mindful of them as they stand and wait

For the burn of the paid out ropes to cool,
Their slight lightheadedness and incredulity
To pass, those who had known him all along.

"Obviously Heaney's lowered someone close into the ground; that's how he knows the rope burns." He's lowered someone close into the ground, that's how he recognises what I'd missed in the slim volume shared over a decaff latte in Waterstone's Birmingham, this morning. There must be Remembrance, and there must be recognition of those who survived, too.

Friday Five: Annie Lennox

Guess who learned how to upload from her sparkly new camera? Yeppers. The very same. So here are some great tunes from Annie Lennox - listen with me as I sift through and catalogue months of photos.

1. Why? I may be mad I may be blind, I may be viciously unkind, but I can still read what you 're thinking... why can't you see this boat is sinking.

2. When Tomorrow Comes. Underneath your dreamlit eyes shades of sleep have driven you away, the moon is pale outside and you are far from here... untroubled by the chaos of our lives, another day, another night.

3. I Saved the World Today. Hey, hey, I saved the world today (everybody's happy now) and everybody's happy now the bad things gone away... please let it, let it...

4. Thorn in my Side. Yeah!

5. Shining Light. You've always been a thorn in their side but to me you're a shining light, you arrive and the night is alive, yeah you are shining light, you light up my life.

Remembrance

There's this blog I follow. Actually there are several blogs I follow, but I particularly like this one as I lived and worked for a short while nearby, early in my career, and I like to read this blog as I know the geography. Today is Roz's mum's anniversary. And she's right about the Carmelites.

Delia Smith's Spiced Plum or Damson Chutney

Halve and stone 3lb Warwickshire Drooper plums, damsons, or a mixture of your orchard drupes. Core and finely chop 1lb cooking apples, peel and finely chop 3 large onions, and drop into your preserving pan.

Crush 3 fat cloves of garlic, 2 heaped teaspoons ground ginger, 1lb raisins, 1lb soft brown sugar, 1lb demerara and add to the preserving pan together with 2 pints malt vinegar.

Next add 2 tablespoons salt, 2 small cinnamon sticks (I don't use sticks, as I can't be bothered to fish them out at the end, so just replace with 2 heaped teaspoons ground cinnamon), 1oz whole allspice berries and a dessertspoon of whole cloves. Delia advises wrapping the whole spices into a little square of muslin, but you too can just crush the whole spices in your mortar and pestle and throw into the pan.

Bring everything to the boil, lower heat to a simmer and cook gently for about 2-3 hours until all the vinegar has disappeared, the chutney has thickened and your house smells wonderful. Pour into sterilised jars in the usual way, then leave on your work surface for a few days, admiring your labour. Don't even try to eat until at least Christmas / three months - better the following year.

Thanks Delia.

Bill Owens : Consume

Presents, Singing Waiters and Too Much Happiness

On Funerals, Eulogies, Wakes and the World Wide Web

I like to arrive at funerals a good 45 minutes before the host. Unless of course it's a Catholic funeral, when the body is brought into church the night before. Arriving early enables you to seat yourself in the appropriate part of the church. Not too near the front (unless you are family, very close friends or just plain rude), half way back (if you are distant family i.e. second cousin status and beyond, work colleagues and parishioners), or at the back (people of no faith, those who need others to show them when to stand when to kneel, etc., and drama queens.) I sat myself quietly with the better dressed and distant family and friends in the middle section. Packed church, lovely funeral, on point eulogy and a good spread afterwards. Three hours later I'm still there renewing distant family relationships and swapping email addresses. Then I blackberry my PA.

"At wake. Negotiating purchase of coat. Google up musquash. Not rabbit is it?"

The Slacker Diaries Part 2

If it's not swine flu, it's safeguarding. I'd just like some time to get to that part in the manual where it describes how to upload my new camera's pictures onto the memory stick, then onto my pc. If I see one more disgusting oik sneeze like a barking git onto those around them I'll take a stick and beat them to the floor screaming, "Who the hell made you Typhoid Mary!"

During this time of global public health concern, I've hardly done a thing in the garden. Hardly been online and almost completely ignored my favourite blogs. Not only is Daniel walking, he's got a teething new baby sister! How did that happen? Even Jan, my original transatlantic laundry buddy removed me from her list of favs ( she probably thought I was dead); (no, not dead, just boring!)

Then I came home in the dark (again) and fell over a brace of pheasants left on the back step and realised I'd have to prep them that night or they'd rot off before I next had time to do them. That meant I needed to go online and Google up a pheasant n bacon combo, but that just overwhelmed me with nearly a quarter of a million pages, so I flicked into Fiona and Danny's website (Google up pheasant recipes and see who's at number 2 and 3), and found myself in tomato heaven.

I left a little message about not buying packets of tomato seeds. I sometimes buy packets of tomato seeds because I have a hard core, horticultural addiction to tomatoes. I've disclosed this before, so it won't come as a surprise to my erudite, witty and urbane readers, (or what's left of them).

But what I really like to do is get some seeds for free. If I'm eating out and come across some really delishy tomatoes, or some really good looking stunners, I'll squeeze some of the seeds onto a sheet of ordinary copier paper, and let them dry off overnight. The copier paper always looks too soaked, but dries off to a crackle-hard sheet again. I then write onto the paper a description of the meal or the circumstances, maybe even stick on the supermarket label, and file the sheets of dried-on tomato seeds into cardboard seed boxes in the study upstairs until needed.

This year I successfully grew three year old seeds, some pictured at the copier paper stage below. Just pick the rock hard seeds off the paper with your fingernail, and sow in the usual way.