Silver Linings

I love the British weather. It is so capricious. It lures us into over-dressing or even, perish the thought, under-dressing - and challenges and exasperates us, but at least it has the decency to do so in a loveable rogue kind of way.

Raindrops on Geranium Rozanne = 'Gerwat'

Recently though, it has taken on a new predictable persona and all this rain, while great for water reserves, is just plain frustrating and if it doesn’t ease up soon, I fear the hens will develop webbed feet and our veggie patch will produce a bumper crop of dandelions and little else.


In an acute attack of optimism, I have been scouting for silver linings to all these rain clouds and of course, the plants have come up trumps. Who could ever tire of looking at raindrops collecting on the leaves of Alchemilla mollis?

Even drought tolerant plants such as those found in the gravel garden at The Beth Chatto Gardens in Essex, seem to be enjoying the rain and are putting on lush growth. Unfurling leaves are vibrant and fresh - here is a bluebell wood I spotted on my travels last weekend.

 

In my own garden, recently planted hedges are flourishing. Were it not for the rain, it could have been a very different story. After all, bare-root hedging and hosepipe bans are seldom happy bedfellows.

I must confess that I rarely enjoy mowing lawns, so the rain is a blessing as it would be foolhardy to mow wet grass. Had I been able and willing to mow, I might have missed out on these cowslips which have made themselves at home in the lawn. 

Like many people accustomed to the physical exertions of gardening, inactivity is taking its toll and my clothes are tightening by the day, so I am grateful to be involved in some small way with the forthcoming Olympics. I am no highly-tuned sportsperson so I am not a contender- unless competitive chocolate consumption is an Olympic event these days - in which case, sign me up.

Like many of the Olympic volunteers, I feel privileged to be part of an exciting occasion which gives me the opportunity to meet diverse, enthusiastic and supportive people. I feel the same about the blogosphere. I haven’t been here long, but I am having a wonderful time in this community of diverse, enthusiastic and supportive people. So despite the rain, I am happy!

Golden Marjoram, Silver Thyme and a Buff Sussex

Introducing the girls.... 

Hippy Chick (the Light Sussex) and Herby Chicken (the Buff Sussex)

Like a lovesick teenager checking an inbox for messages, I have been obsessively checking the nest box for eggs and I am hugely relieved to announce that the seemingly interminable wait (all one day of it) is over as far as Hippy is concerned - we are looking forward to some egg-laying action from Herby in the very near future.


There are only two girls because everything I have ever read on the subject suggests that chicken-keeping is highly addictive. So by starting small, I have a way to go before things get out of hand. They have certainly provided a welcome diversion in all this bad weather as have these beauties.

One of the great things about this miserable weather is that our tulips have flowered for longer than usual. I didn't think they would perform so well in all the wind and rain, but they have done us proud. These ones are 'Jimmy', 

'Sjakamaro' and 'Ronaldo'.

Another silver lining to all these storm clouds is that anything recently planted appears to be establishing with a minimum amount of effort from me. The culinary herb border which went in last week is already showing signs of growth. I chose the driest, sunniest part of the garden which, as luck would have it, is close to the kitchen door. I added grit when planting to help with drainage and it seems to be doing the trick. 

Golden Marjoram 

Pink-purple stems of Silver Thyme

I love planting culinary herbs. Their different forms, colours, leaves and flowers offer so many creative opportunities. They are not just inspiring to design with, they can attract beneficial insects; provide fabulous flavours which help to mask my culinary inadequacies; and just crushing those leaves releases the scent of summer.... even on a rainy day in May.  

Dill in the rain

Despite the appalling weather, our indomitable builders have continued in their quest to turn a 17th century threshing barn into our new home. Beams are documented and preserved wherever possible and we continue to see a steady stream of visitors who won't let the rain dampen their ardour for historical buildings.


We appear to have rills where there should be walls, which is an interesting interior design feature.

The next photo shows where we plan to sit and watch the sun setting, although we fervently hope we will not be viewing it across a muddy puddle.

The good news is that no television presenters have been spotted sloshing around in the mud, doing sympathetic shots to camera about our conversion being over-time and over-budget, so we’re bound to be in by Christmas... ahem.

Eating Opportunities

It might have done wonders for Novak Djokovic's tennis, but a gluten-free diet has done little for my sporting prowess. It has, however, led to the discovery that pancakes made with gluten-free flour are excellent. My harshest critics - the kids and their friends - agree, so it must be true.


It's a similar story with crumble. A former passionate consumer of oaty crumbles, I am now a gluten-free crumble topping devotee. Even if I didn't have coeliac disease (I do), I would love gluten-free crumble. It is not challenging to make, I just change the flour in an oat-free crumble recipe. It is more akin to shortbread than crumble and is, quite simply, the dog's doodahs. 


I’m not saying it will improve your tennis. To be honest, I don’t even know if Novak Djokovic eats crumble and I am certainly in no position to comment on whether he is partial to a rhubarb one. But since the rhubarb season is upon us, we are blessed with an additional excuse (were it needed) to enjoy a bowl of crumble.

This year I won’t be picking any of the rhubarb I brought with me to Norfolk as it needs to recover from the rigours of the move. Happily though, I have access to my old kitchen garden in Essex and have been filling my boots with rhubarb and asparagus.

Our asparagus bed was planted with four varieties to prolong the cropping season and it is wonderfully productive. Some people are put off by the length of time it takes to establish an asparagus bed. For me though, if I hope to live somewhere for more than three or four years, in goes the asparagus. 

We have no asparagus here in Norfolk, so I will plant a new bed with one-year-old crowns this month. Then will come the long, but worthwhile wait for a harvest. This means not cutting any spears the following Spring, which is more than anyone burdened with a serious deficit in the self-control department can stand. So, for a strong hybrid, I will naughtily sneak one or two precious spears while no one is looking and then resume my saintly gardener stance and join the rest of the family in waiting patiently for the crowns to establish. 

The following year, I should be able to harvest succulent spears for about six weeks and the year after that, I - and anyone else who comes near the farm - will get down to some serious asparagus-devouring until late June.

A more immediate eating opportunity (I hope), will be the arrival of our new chickens' first eggs. Every cluck sends me scurrying into the garden lest it should herald that all-important inaugural egg.  


No pressure, girls.