Coddled Eggs

Coddled Eggs

Saturday, 19 July 2014

....Another huge day in Paradise

No need for "much a say about anything" as it was all about toil today.
Hacking snipping cutting mulching and raking ....and only one garden completely tidied....

and believe me it was freezing 

 The smell coming from the mulcher was a blend of sweet cypress and woody vine.
It was such a fresh smell it cleared my sinus or was it just the inhalation of ice cold air....maybe the blend ....either way it was wonderfully refreshing.

Decided to prune  the roses....

even the fish took their time coming up for a look.....

"Of all the ingredients we employ in the creation of a garden, scent is probably the most potent and the least understood.  Its effects can be either direct and immediate, drowning our senses in a surge of sugary vapor, or they can be subtle and delayed, slowly wafting into our consciousness, stirring our emotions and coloring our thoughts."-  Stephen Lacey, Scent in Your Garden, 1991

I have no idea why I love The Garden so much.My parents certainly were not gardeners.
I have always loved gardens and can remember as a little girl walking past a garden in Derwent street that grew beautiful flowers .I remember wishing our family had a garden with flowers and trees and berries.
One of my fondest memories of childhood was making a sand saucer with little  blue matchheads or as they are also known grape hyacinth (Muscari neglectum).
I carried that saucer home  from school so lovingly and sat it on the windowsill beside my bed.

I can remember telling myself "One day I will have a lovely garden filled with blue flowers."

I recently purchased Mascari neglectum alba . Which is the Grape Hyacinth only not blue but white. Alba meaning White.
It was a generous  clump planted  in a little bucket.
My son, whom is also a keen gardener now has the clump which I do hope spreads quickly and a few come back to me.
I love that about gardens.

Nomenclature in my garden is not just confined to Latin or common names but also there are plants that are named after the names of friends or people that have given me plants...
Like Olives Clematis or Jeans lille snowdrops, Karens Solomon's Seal  or a special friends Peony called The Maroon bugger.
My dear friend Jean M Young gave me so many treasures for my garden including a little clump of Violets that smell like grapes.
I got lots of little pieces some of which I have now lost but something I will never lose are the beautiful needle point herbs that Jean so lovingly stitched and then left for me after she passed away.

I would garden with Jean for hours .We could talk about anything and everything.
Sometimes Jean would sit on her porch. Whilst I gardened she read to me.
My favourite was Kipling

                             The Glory of the Garden

OUR England is a garden that is full of stately views,
Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;
But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.

For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,
You'll find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all
The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dung-pits and the tanks,
The rollers, carts, and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.
And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice boys
Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise ;
For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,
The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.

And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows ;
But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,
For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.

Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing:-" Oh, how beautiful," and sitting in the shade
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.
There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,
There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick
But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,
For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.

Sow.... on that note I will finish this post and leave you all with pictures of the end product of another
day, when the garden occupied us and busied our hands and quieted our minds.
The best smell of the day though had to be the hot buttered toast and coffee we had , 
sitting in the garden being thankful for the strength we still have to work hard.

Till my next post ....go have some fun and if you can't do that try Yoga.....

Tuesday, 8 July 2014

A Good Read, A Good Find and The Good Wife....

I've said it before and will probably say it again and again.
Time goes so quickly and  no matter how you say it...... Time will not stand still......
Tempus fugit...

This last week has flown .Tomorrow is already mid week ....phew ...Is it just me or as we age  does time go faster and faster..?????
 I am left to ponder...but not for long as this week saw me join the gym, go to watch my grand daughters netball....worked and worked some more...
Mothered a baby opossum after the mother was killed...did some more work had grandchildren sleep over.....gardened some more... preserved more fruit...spread coffee grinds on the soil and surprise surprise.
 I stopped in my tracks.
  I discovered a little clump of  winter aconites (Eranthis hyemalis) and a solitary snow drop  (Galanthus nivalis) growing in the garden bed.
I do so love snow drops and admire how such a delicate flower can survive, even thrive in the deepest of snow.

Galanthus nivalis
Family: Amaryllidaceae 

Common Names: ~Fair Maid of February~ ~Bulbous Violet~ ~Emblem of Early Spring~ ~Maids of February~ ~Candlemas Bells'~ ~Mary's Tapers~ 

Native of Switzerland, Austria and of Southern Europe, Snowdrops and carnations are the traditional flowers for the month of January. The name Galanthus, is Greek in its origin and signifies ~Milk -white- flower.~ Nivalis is a Latin adjective, meaning ~relating to~ or ~resembling snow.~ 

A legend about the origin of the snowdrop tells us that after being expelled from the Garden of Eden, Eve sat weeping. An angel comforted her. Since the Fall, no flowers had bloomed, but snow fell ceaselessly. As the angel talked with Eve, he caught a snowflake in his hand, breathed on it, and it fell to earth as the first snowdrop. The flower bloomed and Hope was born. In Germany there is a different snowdrop legend. When God made all things on the Earth, He asked the snow to go to the flowers and get a little color from them. One by one the flowers refused. Then, very sad, she asked a snowdrop to give it a little of its colour and the snowdrop accepted. As a reward, the snow lets it bloom first whenever spring shows. 

Years ago snowdrops were dried and transported to European shops from Turkey. Monks brought snowdrop bulbs from Rome to England and were the first to plant them around old monasteries. Because of this snowdrops became known as the ~church flower.~ Traditionally on Candlemas (Feb.2) the image of the Virgin Mary was taken down and a handful of snowdrop blooms were scattered in its place. Their presence in churchyards generated an unlucky reputation as time went on. 

Every spring on March 1, the national Moldovan holiday, is celebrated. On this day people present each other with the traditional flowers. One of the old Moldovan legend says that once in a fight with the winter witch, that didn't want to give up its place, the beautiful lady Spring cut her finger and few drops of her blood fell on the snow, which melted. Soon on this place grew a snowdrop and in such a way the spring won the winter. 

According to superstitions it is unlucky to bring snowdrops indoors and the sight of a single snowdrop blooming in the garden foretells of impending disaster.
 It is regarded as an omen of death despite its beauty. It symbolises purity and hope in the language of flowers. 

Winter aconite Eranthis hyemalis

Eranthis  From the Greek 'er' for spring plus 'anthis' for flower.hyemalis belonging to winter, 'hyems' 

One thing is for sure.  It is still Winter . Regardless of these little harbingers of Spring and the fact that the shortest day is now behind us , we are very much in Winter.
My next post will probably be  about our snow covered mountains and the sport that it attracts.

On that note I must say I was very proud of my granddaughters performance on the netball court this past weekend.It was her last game.
Skiing takes over and most of the children venture up the mountain.
I digress.

I would pop photo's up of my orphaned opossum but it was so tiny .As big as my thumb .It survived for 18 hours.
I did make a wee video and may share it later.

There were still apples on the tree so I picked those along with crab apples  (Malus ) and preserved some quinces in a syrup of vanilla and rose.
The Still room certainly is filling up ..time to start baking and cooking.

I just love good recipes ....The Crabtree and Evelyn Cookbook  was my first special cookbook ...I still love it...

I try to get at least one recipe book out a month ...our Library has some great ones like these two 
I have a book by this author Its called The Vintage Tea Party and I do so love it...Here is it's sister 

This just reminds me of my daughters and daughter in laws...My daughter got the loveliest mother to be party just before her lovely little boy was born...and just as an aside he is doing EXTREMELY well...growing so big so quickly..

and as for rhubarb ..Yum .....only wish mine would grow better I do believe this year I will plant heaps more.
I love Rhubarb fizzy drink ....

and this little book .....even though I am off sugar I can delight in reading the sweet pages..

There is still so much more to share  but as always Time is getting away on me.

My husband has now also succomed to the thrill of Game of Thrones and I am about to serve him steamed pudding and a cuppa tea.
So on that sweet note I will sign off .
Early start at the gym tomorrow...

Oh My sweet lord what have I gotten myself into....

“Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.” 
― Anthony G. Oettinger

No time like the present to take 5 for a cuppa myself so .......

Remember take time for the simple things when you get a chance and have a laugh ....