Leaping into Action

Why didn't the squirrels eat us?

It is not often you ring someone in the NHS and they can't talk for laughing but a lady in the x-ray department was almost hysterical this morning.  It was refreshing.  She and her friend had a pact that they would propose marriage to the first man they saw.  However, an octegenarian with a zimmer frame was not suitable (shame on the NHS for such ageism) and she wondered if I knew anyone who might be available.  (I didn't.)  She was simply desperate to 'have a go' at the Big Question.  Perhaps it is a good thing that leap year only comes round once every 4 years.

Anyway, appointment made (painful hip) I swallowed some more paracetamol and hobbled round the plot with my camera. You can see a lot in a slow wander. 
 

Builders rubble and gravel present no challenge to snowdrops

 

Busy Bee on a Camelia flower



What a mess!  Badger damage amongst the daffodils



It's time the hens were moved to new pasture.  Good dust bath though!



Autumn planted shallots and onions doing well

New strawberry plants ready to go



Pansies and salads still doing well

Pity I could not pull up a few weeds and cut back the flower borders.  However, aching hip or not, I managed to prune a few stray branches from the climbing roses, sow some seeds and do a bit of tidying in the shed. 

It's nearly time....

The seed box is sorted and I have brought a couple of unheated propagators into the kitchen so they are ready and waiting.  I have a large bucket full of sieved compost, a packet of plant labels and a felt tip pen that works.

Sowing my tomato seeds during the last week of February is a ritual.  An early start gives the plants the longest possible growing time and the fruits can reach maturity before the autumn.  It also gives me the wonderful feeling that spring is happening, it really is!

I am supposed to be scaling back the vegetable production at Springfield this season because I have a lot of family and work commitments this summer.  However, I am not sure if I really can show restraint when it comes to the number of seed packets I actually open.  If I could grow every single tomato variety there is, I would.  And I don’t think I am alone in my ambitions because most gardeners have a vision of grandeur.  For some it is Versailles or Kew Gardens or an entire tropical rainforest.  For me it has to be a vegetable garden that would feed our entire village.  Maybe I was a farmer in a previous life?

Contrasts

Friday night was the coldest we have had this winter and when I trundled down the path yesterday afternoon, the fluffy white snow was crunchy underfoot.  The ice cold air tickled my nostrils, the sun was shining and the garden glistened, like someone had spinkled glitter over everything.  It was the perfect winters day for walking in the countryside.  It was crisp and exhilarating, as long as you have confidence in your footwear.  We have several areas of compacted snow on our plot which have turned to smooth sheets of ice.  I avoid these, I value my bones too much.

I popped along to the greenhouse to check on the potted plants I am over-wintering in there and when I opened the door there was a rush of warm, humid air.  The contrast between outside and inside was remarkable and I am going to buy a thermometer just to see what the temperature climbs to in the winter.  Even at sub-zero temperatures it does not take much sunshine to warm up a glass house and the stone flags we have for the base of ours, absorb the heat and keep the plants cosy during the night.  I have a watering can full of water in there and it remains unfrozen, unlike one by a water butt.

As I was snipping and checking and moving around in there, the snow on the roof started to slide and I had my very own mini avelanche.  Luckily the glass in the cold frames outside are made with safety glass!

There was one thing I was not happy about in the greenhouse. Whitefly.  Being toasty warm in the greenhouse all winter means they can get on with what they like to do, with little threat.  They love my parsley and three pots of it are now useless.  It is so annoying.  

And then there is February....

I should not complain because sub zero temperatures and snow is not unusual for February.  It's just that the bulbs are up and about and I was mentally preparing for sowing my tomato seeds.  I think they call this a reality check.  Last week is a very long time ago.

Our three girls are not unhappy in the snow.  In fact they look at me rather disdainfully as I plod around the plot looking like a sherpa.  Today they looked quite surprised that I found it a struggle to clean them out . 

The coop was frozen, the watering can, likewise, and the water bowl needed de-frosting twice.  Still, my hands were toasty warm.  I wear a pair of 'Thinsulate' gloves with a 'Hottie' stuffed into each one and then a large pair of rubber gloves.  I don't think I could thread needles but dealing with chicken poo and straw is fine.  I wore two pairs of socks and thick, fleece lined rubber boots but the girls seem to manage fine with nothing at all on their feet!

We were due to go and see friends tonight, for supper and a good catch up.  However, they live further north in the Peak District, so that is a no no even with a shovel in the boot of the car.  There is an inch and a half of snow here and it is still falling.  Up there, who know what it could be like in the next half hour.   Buxton is probably cut off already!

Not bad for January is it?

My recent surgery sapped my energy but Saturday was the first day for more than two weeks that I felt I had a bit of ‘oomph’.   The sun was shining, Doc was in and out with work commitments and so I decided to do some pottering in the garden.

However, cleaning out the chickens and pulling up the last of the leeks turned into five hours of glorious gardening.  By mid afternoon I had cast my fleece aside and had sorted out all the raised beds and tidied up some borders.  I pulled up trug after trug of weeds which is a sure sign of a mild winter.

In the greenhouse, the over wintered strawberry plants were doing well and the pots of pansies were blooming much better than their outdoor counterparts.  But the most surprising find was a patio rose I keep in a pot.  It was in flower!  I don’t know the variety; it was a gift to me over five years ago and not labelled.  The sunshine had heated the greenhouse and the fragrance from the rose was intoxicating.  In fact it was so warm in there that I had to open a couple of windows.

Our greenhouse is roomy enough for a table and a couple of chairs in the winter months but on Saturday it was warm enough to sit on a bench outside and enjoy a cuppa, listening to the birds.  I spotted the first snowdrops in the hedgerows and the buds on the blueberry bushes looked desperate to spring open. But the nicest site was the emerging rhubarb, nubby ruby shoots and a promise of crumbles to come.  The garden definitely seemed brighter and not at all bad for the 28^th January! 

It is not often I ‘garden’ with any enthusiasm in January.  I did need to do some shopping but I am glad I made the most of the surprisingly good weather.  I felt chuffed that I achieved so much in so short a time and it means we are well ahead for the new season.  Even Doc managed to squeeze in an hour on the plot and cut all the autumn fruiting raspberry canes down to the ground which was another tick in the box. 

We greeted Sunday morning with a familiar sigh.  It was raining, that grey misty weather that dampens your spirit and the ground.  But that’s the British climate for you.  And that is why we have the saying:  Make hay whilst the sun shines......

The growing season started early......

The daffodils and crocuses are peeping above the cold soil and there are buds on the fruit trees waiting for some action but for our family the growing season started a few months ago, in a completely different way.   It is now gathering momentum and we are reminded about the important things in life, the most important being, the importance of life itself.

Number One Son and Daughter in Law are expecting their first baby in the summer and it is the first baby to arrive in our family for more than a decade.  However, it is a staggering 27 years since Doc and I welcomed our youngest into the world so we are feeling equal amounts of euphoric excitement and rabbit-in-headlights terror.  Friends reassure us that we will be ‘handing the bundle back to his/her parents’ and that it will fun all the way - but I am not so sure.  The emotional DNA has already coiled itself around our hearts.  This is not just any old baby and someone to entertain now and again, this is going to be OUR baby – by proxy.  Physiologically speaking, the bond may be diluted but nevertheless the biological bond is fixed in eternity.   Just as his/her parents will love, protect and provide, we too are bound by our DNA to do the same.  This new baby is one of us.

Therefore, this new phase in our lives is going to be both wonderful and tricky.  Being a grandparent is a new territory that we will have to learn to negotiate.  One thing it is not, is being a parent.  For instance, given our background in parenting, it may be assumed we will know what to do when the baby cries.  However, my brain has shrunken over the years, probably as a result of raising a family, and I can’t remember very much about day to day child rearing.  (The 1980s and 90s are a blur!)  Thinking it through though, this may be a good thing because apparently, a grandparent must keep their mouth closed and not give well meaning, but ultimately undermining advice, unless it is asked for.

We may read a book or two about how to be good grandparents but as long as Doc and I are good enough and develop a positive relationship with baby, that will be just fine.  The new parents have lots of energy and love to give and will muddle along.  And so will we.  We must remember we are gardeners and use our instinct for nurturing to see us through.

As for our new status in the family ie one of the elders, that is even trickier.  I have banned Doc from eating Werther's Originals and wearing plaid slippers – forever - and I suddenly feel an attraction towards certain face creams with magical powers.  I have some time though to brace myself for questions such as ‘what is it like to be old?’

What do we hope for our new grandchild?  We wish the same as anyone does, for any child, anywhere.  That he or she is loved and cared for, is healthy and has opportunity to reach their potential and contribute to the world.  Above all, we hope there are lots of smiles and only tears of joy. But whatever comes, Doc and I will be here, up to our elbows in poo when appropriate and quietly supporting in the background, the rest of the time.
   
I do hope the new baby does not inherit Great Auntie Edna’s big nose or my Great Grandfather’s addiction to alcohol and gambling.  It would be nice if the gardening gene could make an appearance but I am prepared to be disappointed.  He or she could be a petrol head or mad on sport (both of which I know nothing about) but one thing is for sure, the rest of our lives is going to be interesting!