Christmas in style

The origin of the evergreen wreath dates back to pre-Christian times when Germanic peoples gathered evergreens in the cold darkness of mid-winter, arranged them in a circle to symbolise the cyclical nature of seasons and as a sign that spring was coming and there would be new light. Later, Christians adopted the wreath and it became a symbol of Christ’s everlasting light.  Traditionally the Christmas wreath had 4 candles in the circle and a fifth in the centre.  The first candle was lit at the beginning of advent and then the remaining candles were lit, one a week, until December 25th.

Nowadays, it is usual to see Christmas wreaths hung on front doors and our house is no exception.  It is a welcoming sight for visitors (especially the Postman!) and since we generally use our back door more than the front door, it encourages us to change our habits for a while and enjoy the greenery every day. 

Usually, I spend a happy Saturday afternoon in December collecting a mass of greenery from the garden, including holly and ivy.  After 3 hours of faffing and positioning and re-positioning of the berries, bows and cinnamon sticks, I hang it on the hook with pride and satisfaction that I made it myself.  Then I usually go and find the sticking plasters because holly does not respect fingers. 
 
This year, Number One Daughter, who is a florist, has made our wreath this year.  She lives a long way away but the timing of her last visit was just right so she brought us one of her specials.  It took her half an hour or so to make it, but she is a professional after all.  I love her traditional design.  I don’t go in for wreaths made of sprouts or tinsel! 

Beauty takes time

You need vision to be a gardener because developing your dream space takes time – unless you have a large budget that facilitates ordering a garden in a van.  You have to be able to visualise what the little shrublet in the pot at the garden centre, will look like as a fully grown specimen in ten years time and ensure it is in harmony with its surroundings.  Sometimes my visionary skills are tested and this Sorbus Sargentiana is a case in point.  

For a long time we have planned to re-plant the bed at the front of our property and add colour which we can enjoy from the house.  2011 saw the start of this process. 

There is an established, if a little tired, laburnum tree so we decided on a palette of the hot, jewelled colours.  We also have a small fir tree in the bed which would look lovely strung with fairy lights – if we ever get round to it!  Anyway, we overhauled the bed and planted some perennials and spring flowering bulbs.  Until they grow, there are a lot of gaps and too much brown earth for anyone’s liking. 

Planting a tree was definitely part of the vision.  After consulting books, the internet and other gardeners, we decided on a Sorbus Sargentiana - because a Rowan can deliver high impact in a medium sized space.

The Sargent is a small to medium-sized deciduous tree growing to 6–16 m tall, with an attractive rounded crown.   There are stout shoots of large, sticky red buds in winter, white flowers with yellow stamens in early summer, followed by red berries which are a joy for the birds.  The long, green leaves turn a fiery orange and red in the autumn so this is a fantastic tree for interest all year round. Needless to say, lots of other gardeners think the same and sourcing one was quite a challenge.







A supplier put our name on the waiting list for the next shipment of bare rooted stock.  A pot-grown tree can be planted any time of year but bare rooted trees are planted from late autumn when they are relatively dormant and there is still enough warmth in the soil to become established before the really harsh weather sets in.  So a week or so ago on a very wet day, our bare rooted tree arrived in a cardboard box.  Or should I say, our stout ‘stick’ arrived in a cardboard box.

Bare rooted trees are field-grown, dug up for re-planting and have their roots trimmed.  They need to be planted immediately, before their roots dry out so Doc set to work the next day and we now have a stick in the ground rather than a stick in a box.  Bare rooted trees need less attention ie watering, than their pot-grown cousins so basically all we do now is wait for the vision to be realised ...and wait...because Sorbus Sargentiana is a slow growing tree.

A neighbour has told us that a friend of theirs planted the very same tree and it sat in the soil for two years without so much as trying to grow even an inch, let alone reaching anywhere near its potential.  They dug it up and put it on the bonfire which was such a waste and all because they lost patience.

We do wonder if we have enough life left to see our Sargent reach perfection but that is what having a vision is all about, isn’t it?  It is not about now, it is about an indefinite point in the future.  It is an act of faith.  Still, it would be nice to have something nice to look at when we are drinking our coffee.  I wonder if we should drape a few fairy lights around it for Christmas?
 
Note to self:  when buying a tree as a gift, choose a pot-grown specimen because the chances are it will be older and look like a tree, with arching branches and leaves....

 

Winter has arrived

During the last few days we have had the first flurreys of icing sugar snow and heard the snap, crackle and pop of hailstones bouncing off the roof light in the kitchen.  Those warmer than usual autumn days have long gone and it is time to upgrade to heavy duty boots and thicker jumpers.

There is plenty to do outside but it is a tough gardener who ventures outside to tend the plot.  I do have a pair of thermal gardening gloves but at the back of my mind there is the idea that walking on wet ground will compact the soil structure and store up trouble for next year.  Well, that’s my excuse anyway.  I am very happy to put my ‘I’d rather be in the garden’ mug in the back of the cupboard, until it feels a degree or two warmer.

So, gardening at Springfield is currently a series of quick dashes up and down the garden path.   Of course, the chickens need constant care and today they were sheltering underneath their new rain cover, looking a little pensive.  I bought the cover from
www.omlet.co.uk and the great thing about it is that it is made from clear, heavy duty plastic so the hens can see out and I can see inside the run more easily.  We are now waiting to see how much weather the winter will throw at it.

I still have some salads in the raised beds.  The radicchio leaves are soggy on the outise but the hearts are still going strong and bring a sharply flavoured, ruby-red crispness to a salad.  The spiky mizuna and glossy spinach are hanging on in there too.  In the greenhouse, there are trays of cut and come again salad greens and I have some little Winter Gems bobbing along nicely.


Now that the plot has been well frosted, Doc digs some parsnips every week.  After a blast of cold air, the starches turn to sugar and the parsnips caramelise in the oven and taste so much sweeter.  If we don’t need to use the parsnips immediately, Doc leaves the soil on them because they store better this way and as I write there are a couple waiting expectantly in the utility room.
 
The leeks are another joy of winter and Doc regularly digs up half a dozen or so.  He cleans them all, pops them in a poly bag in the fridge and then we cook with them through the following week.  They are just as versatile as onions but offer a softer, oniony flavour.  One of our favourite dishes is leeks sautéed with bacon and covered with a thick, cheese sauce and topped with crispy breadcrumbs.....

Fortunately we managed to arrange one of the bigger autumn tasks to be finished before the cold snap this week.   A large, variegated holly was in need of a substantial taming so a friend of ours who has the kit, offered to tackle the job for us.  The result was a huge mound of prickly potential for our family florist.  Number One Daughter was visiting last weekend so she took a huge bag full of it back to Arcade Flowers in Ringwood.  Stored outside, it lasts for ages.  As for the rest of the heap, a more local florist has taken it away which is great.  Instead of being consigned to the bonfire heap, the lovely holly will brighten up many a front door over the festive period.

The Tale of Five Chickens

Yesterday, I had 3 chickens to give their weekly thorough clean out to and 2 chickens to roast.  Two worlds collided and I blame Doc for this.  He said we had not had chicken for a while.  Organic birds were on Special Offer at the supermarket and why don’t we make Chicken Fricassee for the troops next weekend?  It was a good idea, in theory.  Cooking the chicken in advance, making the stock and freezing it, would save time and dinner could be prepared in a jiffy.  In any case, Doc said, Chicken Fricassee used to be one of our family favourites....

That was until the girls arrived last year.  Since then, eating chicken has a slightly uncomfortable association for me.  It is hard to care for Ginger, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, get to know their individual little personalities and then cook one of their ‘colleagues’ for dinner.

I am not vegetarian - I do like sausages and bacon- but I think I have leanings in that direction.  I don’t like rare meat full stop and would never order a steak.  Having so much produce in the garden also means the veggies have increasingly taken’ centre plate’ and of course, our eggs are simply wonderful.

Anyway, I told myself to get a grip of the two carcasses in front of me on the chopping board.  They were not our birds, they were strangers, with a good provenance and hopefully had lived a contented life. If I was starving, I would be grateful.  We have to get real and connect with our food, from field to plate.

All the same, I was pleased when the preparations for Chicken Fricassee were complete.  I must remember to chop the chicken meat quite small so it does not cause a lump in my throat next weekend.  I will also make plenty of mushroom veloute sauce to go with it.

If...

If I hadn't chosen to shut the chicken coop door at 4.30 pm....if I hadn't noticed a few fallen apples strewn underneath one of the old apple trees in the orchard....if I had chosen to leave them rather than take the trouble to collect them....  and if the half light of dusk had not contributed me to lose my footing and stumble.... then I wouldn't have sat on the bench to rub my ankle...  And I would not have seen and heard it.

It was its large flapping wings than alerted me and I sat bolt upright, daring not to breathe or move as the visitor glided and descended into another of the old apple trees, just a few feet away from my own perch.  I could tell by the silouette and size that it was an owl which was confirmed a few moments later by the familiar hoots.

The owl's haunting calls were duly answered by an owl in a neighbouring garden and precipitated a conversation that lasted several minutes.  I don't know how I managed to stay so still for so long.  Then the owl opened its wings and up and away it flew, across the orchard and out to the valley beyond.

We enjoyed a wonderful weekend with a houseful of family but I felt subdued as I waved the last of the smalls off this morning.  The house was quiet and I felt lonely as I tackled the washing and ironing.  A visit to the dentist contributed to my malaise.  However, I now feel uplifted.  Special moments cannot be planned for or contrived, they just happen.  

Last rasberry day

It may be the day for gunpowder, treason and plot but it is also the day when I picked the very last of the rasps.  Autumn Bliss lives up to its name.

Our canes were here when we moved to Springfield, 8 years ago and they show no signs of weakness.   I chop them down to the ground in February, Doc mulches them with grass clippings, compost, or manure – whatever there is an abundance of – and they get on with it.  Occasionally, we thin out the runners but they don’t seem to mind.  They start fruiting in July and rain or shine, they just get better and better as the season progresses.  We never net them because the birds seem to ignore them.

However, we don’t ignore them and although Doc prefers strawberries, it doesn’t stop him competing with me for the very Last One.  Still, there are bags and bags of them in the freezer and a stack of raspberry jam in the pantry.  The jars sparkle like jewels and it’s like having a treasure trove to keep us going through the winter.

I can hear the bangs and whooshes outside.  I hope the chickens are okay.  They will probably go off lay and there will be rocket sticks to collect in the morning.  I think I will watch Strictly on TV to drown out the noise .  Bah Humbug!