Allotment Update!

The evenings have been too lovely to stay indoors so we've been creating mischief at the plot!

What's going up in your garden?

Jane

xxx

Scavenger Hunt - February (director's cut)

Okay folks this is my first scavenger hunt and, as the title states, it is indeed a 'cut' version. In truth I have been mad busy and have not had time to fulfil all the categories but still wanted to post something. 

So here goes.

Flowers

Spring bouquet

Love / Heart

From my favourite valentine 

Number / Price

Imperial bliss

Favourite colour

Green - such optimism

Bird

With a bird's eye view

On the road

My favourite stop off place for free range eggs

Tap

Not particularly attractive but one of the hardest working parts of the garden

A corner of my home

The best place to snuggle up with a book

 

Next month I will be more organised. 

I hope.

Thanks to greenthumb for organising. If you fancy joining in with the scavenger hunt for March you can have a look at the next list and other linkee's (!) here.

Jane

xxx

A Rare Review

Some time ago I wrote a post called Brightening Up about taking on our new allotment (did I mention we have an allotment ;)) In the comments section the lovely Frances from City Views, Country Dreams asked if I had read a book called Four Hedges. I immediately looked it up and was blown over by the cover alone. A few days later I was happily ensconced in what I consider to be one of the most enjoyable pieces of writing I've read.  

Written in the 1930's, Clare Leighton - renowned wood engraver - told of her experience of creating a garden in the Chiltern Hills. Alongside her partner, Henry Noel Brailsford, she fought against the not too ideal location to develop a garden that provided both visual and spiritual pleasure.

Divided into sections - one for each month - she not only observes the plants and wildlife but also the weather, social etiquette and the symbiotic nature of gardening.

Even if you're not a gardening nut such as myself you would find it difficult not to be moved by her deep understanding and appreciation of the senses.

To quote from 'January':

There is nothing more satisfying than to lie in bed at night, secure and warm,with a whistling wind outside. Windows creak and flap and grumble; one's senses are limited by the dark to hearing, and so the moan of the wind lifts and falls, strengthens and diminishes with a range of sound that is unimagined during the daytime, when hearing is tempered and distracted by sight, and wind means the racing of clouds across the sky.

In the introduction Carol Klein tells us

As you read each word, as you study each line, you smile. Yes, you want to say, yes, yes, you want to shout, that's it!

Not only battling with the plot and the weather, they also have another battle on their hands. That with their gardener - someone for whom they have the utmost respect but are too intimidated by to disagree with. This leads to often subversive methods in order to try and garden 'their' way. The local villagers also enrich their gardening knowledge with local lore.When their housekeeper Annie turns up with the phrase 'Coo! There's thunder about' they are confident that rain will soon appear to end a prolonged period of dry weather.

Clare urges us to look at things from a different view. When all seems grey and stark in the middle of Winter she notices the brightness of the birds plumage, and furnishes us with a beautiful account of watching the first iris open.

Throughout the book there is an air of appreciation and optimism. She manages to put into words what so many of us might feel but would find difficult to express. The eloquence of her writing is enhanced by the intensity of her engravings.

 A truly beautiful read.

So - how to follow up such a book?

Recently another blogger (I'm sorry I can't remember who - please put me right if you know!) put up a book for a giveaway. This one was called Allotted Time and with the strapline 'two blokes' one shed, no idea' I knew it would make a perfect gift for Mr K. Very loosely linked, in that it is about developing a garden, it provides a light hearted recount of the trials and tribulations of starting an allotment with - in their words - no idea. The writing may not be as lyrical, but the events are just as recognisable - with battles against the similar obstacles of land, weather and locals. 

Good fun.

So there we go. Two books - similar themes but very different tones. Both perfect for snuggling up with on these dark January days when all we can do is dream about what the year ahead will bring.

I'd love to hear if you've read either of these - or if you have any recommendations yourself.

Keep warm

Jane

xxx

Curtailed greetings

Curtailed on account that some time this afternoon was set aside for a post - albeit a short one - about our preparations for the big day. Then in true festive spirit some old friends dropped by. Then in even truer festive spirit out came the Christmas sherry and to be honest - well - hic - best laid plans .....

Here's hoping that you will all find a little peace and joy this Christmas.

See you on the other side.

Jane

xxx

Just not feeling it ...

... are you?

I've been trying ever so hard.

Maybe it's the unseasonally warm weather we've been experiencing.

Or the fact that frosts haven't yet forced my pelargoniums inside.

But I just haven't got the Christmas bug. 

Not yet.

There are three separate Christmas productions going on at school.

And glitter abounds.

But even though the beautiful strains of 'The Snowman' keeps echoing down the halls  I'm still not 'getting it'.

This morning we received our first Christmas card. I've put it next to our gorgeous smelling mulled wine candle (I told you I was trying) on the mantelpiece in an attempt to ramp up the Christmas cheer - but no. Nothing.

The ingredients for the Christmas cake - usually mixed together with great competitive fervour in anticipation of winning our annual 'cake off' - are gathering dust behind the fruit bowl.

Don't get me wrong. I like Christmas. My singalong songs during December vary from anything between 'In the Bleak Midwinter' to 'All I want for Christmas - is Yoooooou' (for which I apologise). But I think that might be the point. It's still November.

I have many dear friends who already have presents wrapped and cards sent. But for me Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without the mad dash around the shops hours before the big day. 

Something needs to snap into place. Just like the urge to plant seeds hits me in the Spring, and making jam is an absolute must in Autumn.

So what have I been doing?

Well I've made a couple of happy purchases.

Look at this set of pretty glasses. £2.50 for six!

Surely these will twinkle perfectly against the fairy lights on Christmas Eve?

And I had to snap up this sign for £1.

Who wouldn't want a knitted brassiere - that fits!

I've gathered the last of our apples.

Made lots of soups.

And been fascinated by the rate this hyacinth bulb has put down it's roots.

I've also been doing a bit of crochet. I love the idea of having a snuggly wrap around shawl for the colder evenings.

With a chunky wool and 7mm hook this is building up really quickly.

I've also been tempted by the new Rosie Mitts pattern by Pink Milk.

The embroidered rose detail is so sweet.

So there we go. I'm not complaining. In fact as I sit typing this I'm being bathed in the most glorious winter sunshine. Mr K is down at the allotment adding finishing touches to the shed and I'm about to don my wellies and wander down with emergency coffee. 

I'll try and spot some robins!

Jane 

xxx

Draw nearer ...

It must be the time of year. But for me the changing colours, abundance of mists, smell of woodsmoke and 'nip in the air' go hand in hand with the telling of tales. 

As I've already mentioned my post last year correlated almost exactly with the one this year in which  spooky tales abound. 

And when I threw down the gauntlet to the rest of you I wasn't sure what to expect. 
But as ever my fears were unfounded as you have provided me with so much to 'consider'!

So now it's time. 

Draw up a chair. 

Turn off your phone. 

And read ...

The first comment to my post had the hairs on my neck standing on end. It came from Angel  Jem.

Lacock Abbey. And a cold hand on the shoulder .....

Others agreed. It's not somewhere I know, but in those few words Angel Jem has summoned up a terrifying atmosphere.

Irene hints at strange goings on with this comment.

I have had a few spooky/weird things going shortly after my Father died. Clocks chiming, blinds going up and down and strange sensations in the house. Thankfully all is quiet now.

How many of you can empathise with that?

Pam tells us of a strange everyday experience that she had.

My husband went upstairs to use the bathroom while tea was cooking. I was in the dining room. I felt someone go past the dining room door so I went into the kitchen to ask hubby if tea was ready. But he wasn't there. So who went past the door?

Say no more.

Melody relates a story she shared with her mother.

Happened many years ago. My Mum and I were at her Aunt's big, old house cleaning (Aunt was in the Hospital) ~ we were the only ones there. The house had two set of stairs, the main stairs ~ and the back stairs that lead from what would have been the "maid's quarters" in times gone by, directly to the kitchen. I was in the kitchen, on hands and knees cleaning the stove. I heard Mum walk down the entire wooden stair case, and then stop at the closed door. So I got up, figuring she must have had her hands full, to open the door. I did, but she wasn't there. I was confused, so I went up the stairs to find her?? She was in the bathroom, cleaning the tub on her hands and knees.. with the water running. Yup, true story. ~ and my only personal encounter with restless spirits. 

Mum spend a lot of time in the house growing up... and always heard people walking around, stairs creaking from feet, and closing doors. It seems who ever lived there before just couldn't bear to leave?

Linnet in Oriel provides us with a tale that has become family legend.

My Granny used to tell me a story that her Granny used to tell. Great Great Granny Margaret had a little son named Hughie. One day she noticed that something was up with the little fella and asked what was wrong. Oh dear, he said, but I am going away, some where far and very cold. Poor Hughie died within the year and they said that when his mother was nearing death she swore that young Hugh never left the end of her bed....

For more detailed stories you wont be disappointed if you visit Wendy over at September Violets. Her story is not only fascinating but features the most wonderful photography - with an unexpected twist at the end!

Mrs Black also thrills us with an experience that she stumbled over after taking a different turn in the road. Just be careful when driving in the rain!

Frances over in New York shows us just how Hallowe'en is celebrated over in the Big Apple with fantastic pictures from her neighbourhood.

So what about you?

Does this time of year make you look sideways - instead of straight ahead? 

If nothing else this goes to show that the age old tradition of story telling is alive and well. 

And maybe closer than you think.

Jane

xxx

Calling all story tellers!

Last shout for any more spooky stories that I can put together for Hallowe'eeeeeeeeeen! 

It doesn't have to be a novel - one of the shortest comments had the hairs standing up on the back of my neck! 

So come on - you can either leave it as a comment or a link to your blog and we'll see if we can get spooky!

See my post here for further details. 

Looking forward to hearing from yooooooooooooohoooooooooooowoooooooooo.

Jane 

xxx

Do you want to tell a story....?

As we all know up here in the Northern hemisphere it's that time of year. Memories of sunny days are just that. The magical colours and textures of Autumn are fleeing by and we are in that brief lull that this change of season brings - allowing us to readjust before the madness of the Christmas season takes hold. Cardigans are out of hibernation and snuggly blankets beckon us toward the sofa. Various of us have extolled the virtues of lighting candles and open fires, yet what better to accompany them than a storm whipping up outside, lashing rain against the windows and wind howling through the keyholes. The perfect setting, one might say, for a ghostie tale....

I've posted some of my ghostly experiences before here, and looking back the date made me smile. This urge that I have to hear more at this time of year seems as regular as wanting to plant the first seeds in Spring, or collect that first posy of flowers from the garden. I'm not a fan of those shows that claim to contact spirits for the sake of the cameras, but have found that over the years most people have a tale to tell. Often it might seem insignificant to others, but the impact it has on the bearer can be profound.

So this is what I thought we could do. For the next couple of weeks - leading up to Halloween - I thought we could share some stories. Preferably those of our own but may be passing on tales from others. No need for a mass outpouring of urban legends - often the slightest tale can be the most evocative. Perhaps somewhere you have been has just created a particular feeling. Our house is over one hundred years old and yet I have never felt at all spooked here. In fact as soon as we first walked through the door it felt welcoming - yet some places certainly do not. 

An example of this is the infamous Winter's Gibbet in Northumberland. I remember visiting the area as a child and our usually inquisitive dog, Prince, refusing to get out of the car. He shivered and whined until we left.

 Find out more about Winter's Gibbet here.

My contribution is tricky as I relayed most of my experiences here but I do have another. Mr K is the world's biggest cynic when it comes to the supernatural. And yet something happened to him many years ago that he still can't explain. As a teenager he set about cycling around the Lake District with an old school friend of his. One night as they were returning to their camp site from the local pub they heard an almighty rush of - well something - nearing them from behind. As the noise got louder it sounded like hooves and it was enough to make them pedal like the clappers to get out of there. Next morning they mentioned their experience to the owner of the campsite, enquiring as to what sort of animals there might be nearby who would be capable of making such a row. The owner blanched as he told them the name of that particular stretch of road - Devil's Gallop. 

Sorry - this was the only picture I could find of the area - from 1952!

If you want to join in you could leave a link to your post here in the comments section, and link back to this blog using the title 'Ghostie Post'. I'm not sure if this will work or not but I for one will look forward to having a selection of tales to be passed on to others on that most spooky night of all - Halloweeeeeeeeeeeeen.

And now I've completely spooked myself I'm going to put all the lights on and make a cup of tea!

Come on - share your tales .............!

Jane

xxx

P.S. Well done for those fruit detectives amongst you - the yellow fruit was indeed a quince. Brownie points all round!

Fruity Madness

When all around seems dull and grey

Pile up some fruit and shout WAYHAY!

All  produce kindly donated by friends and neighbours with the seasonal generosity that Autumn brings.

Jane

xxx

P.S. Brownie points for anyone who can guess the yellow fruit!

Horns, bells and pointy sticks.

As a lover of anything to do with folklore and airy fairy nonsense I jumped at the chance to visit the annual Horn Dance at nearby Abbots Bromley last week. Mr K was relieved to hear that the plans did not include him. Not that he wouldn't love to watch a group of grown men don bizarre costumes and bash their batons together (!) but to do so would probably require a copious amount of alcohol and some form of matrimonial threat.

So with a skip in my step and a song in my heart my pals and I set off along the gorgeous country lanes until we crossed the beautiful Blithfield reservoir (not my photograph I'm afraid - I was earthbound).

 Several years ago I attended a talk given by an author who collected local ghost stories. The one that stayed with me featured a taxi driver who, one dark and wintry night, had dropped off his fare at Abbots Bromley and was returning to his base in the nearby town of Rugeley.  As he neared the half way point of the reservoir he glanced in his rear view mirror and saw a face. So convinced was he that he had forgotten to drop off a further passenger that he spoke to him. When there was no reply the driver pulled over and checked the back of the car. THERE WAS NO ONE THERE! Bom bom BOMMMMMM! Of course I waited until our return journey in the dark to relay this tale. And then spent the rest of the journey unable to look over my shoulder.

Abbots Bromley itself is a pretty village, full pretty houses and olde worlde charm. As we entered the village there was a festival atmosphere.

Various stalls were set up on the village green - this one took my eye.

No end of Morris dancing paraphernalia for sale. I decided against purchasing a CD for Mr K.

The sign outside the gorgeous half timbered Goats Head on the village green gives a brief outline of the dance.

And Wikipedia tells us more about the dancers:

There are 12 dancers. Six carry the horns and they are accompanied by a musician playing an accordion (a violin in former times), Maid Marian (a man in a dress), the Hobby-horse, the Fool (or Jester), a youngster with a bow and arrow, and another youngster with a triangle. Traditionally, the dancers are all male, although in recent years girls have been seen carrying the triangle and bow and arrow.

Until the end of the 19th century the dancers were all members of the Bentley family. The dance passed to the related Fowell family in the early 20th century; this has continued to this day, though due to rising house prices none of them live in the village any longer; many live in nearby towns. They have been known to allow visitors to "dance in" if asked politely, and will often invite musicians and others to take part when necessary.

We were told that we had 'just missed' the performance on the green and the dancers had wandered up into the lanes to continue in the surrounding fields.

So we had a wander.

And I'm afraid from this point on I have no idea as to what has happened to my page colour or indeed how to fix it!

Inside the church there was a small exhibition which gave further details of the dance - including this lovely tribute to one of it's performers.

Sorry about the quality here - it's been super duper zoomed.

Then there were the racks that hold the antlers

Alongside a rather spooky hobby horse that looks like it was put out to pasture many years ago.

In complete contrast the other side of the church housed a steel statue portraying Jesus and a disciple that was commissioned to celebrate the millennium.

Back outside we wandered up the high street. Still no sign of any dancing but plenty of time to take in the surroundings.

A life size dolls house!

The grandest of door frames

And a very polite notice as to what not to do with my motor!

We sat and we waited.

We waited and we wondered.

And just as the light started to fade we heard a distinct tinkle!

First came the clog dancers in a whirl of green

Then the Morris men and their pointy sticks

And finally the Horn Dance  itself

Apologies again for the picture quality but considering the weight of the antlers these men were quite nifty!

And then they were gone.

Time for a warm drink and return across the haunted reservoir!

A great evening and wonderful to have been part of something that has entertained so many people over the centuries.

Jane

xxx

P.S. So remember when driving late at night and spotting a face in your rear view mirror don't worry - it's just A GHOST!