Then There Were Six

Tragedy over night. Another chook gone - the injured one. A brownie. It must be a fox,the cunning thing. It happened at dusk when they were on their way back to the chookyard for bed. Couldn't have been the dogs - they were with me. Feathers everywhere make a suspicious trail to a hole in the boundary fence. No more roaming 'round the garden chickedees. We're in lockdown (for the time being). Mr Fox out in the saltbush is having a good old laugh. Fantastic. Fear not my feathered friends, we'll be waiting for him tonight...

A Chook Down

Oh dear, upon delivering the chooks their kitchen offerings this morning, I arrived at their yard to find a carpet of black feathers. A quick headcount confirmed my fears. We are a black chook down - and the limping chook explained the sporadic brown feathers also around the place. The poor girls. What a horrible thing.

I thought the culprit must be a fox and immediately had plans to wait by the chookyard with shotgun in hand tonight, but the guilty looks on the dogs' faces when I returned to the house meant I need not endure the cold. I had thought we were successfully past this stage. Obviously not. There is not a bit of it left. The labrador and puppy ate the lot. Poor Black Chook, she was almost old enough to start laying - we got five little additions to the chookyard about 22 weeks ago as 5 day old chicks, above. So then there were seven - now just one black chicken and six Isa Browns.

Floribunda

It is a lovely cool morning today. After taking Molly and Huckleberry for their walk - Molly full of anticipation and on high alert for rabbits basking in the morning sun, I thought it a good time for picking roses. Walking through the garden I see I have an aphid issue again. Caterpillars are also back - they're even eating little holes in the geraniums which can't taste that good. Between these and the puppy, flowers are having a tough time of it. But there were a handful pretty enough to arrange in a jug for our humble entrance. David Austin's roses are my favourite - 'The Alnwick Rose' (the raspberry coloured rose in the centre of the arrangement) which I put in the ground last winter, is completely covered in buds. The poor bush looks far too little for so many blooms - alas will have to relieve her and bring them inside. The fuller apricot roses, 'Jude The Obscure', is ridiculously fragrant this time of year. I added another two bushes to make a triangle of three last winter with the hope of an abundance of flowers next year - they're currently suffering a little from blackspot as the lemongrass had grown up thickly around them. My sister chooses a new David Austin rose for me each winter - first was Jude and last winter was Summer Song - beautiful, but isn't thriving, though it too has become swamped by other plants. I'm now in ruthless removal and prune mode in the garden. Will bring out the Austin book next visit for this year's choice. The pears are from an ancient pear tree in the garden. She was all but dead, so took to her with a chainsaw and in response has made a remarkable comeback. I pruned her properly for fruit production last year and we've been getting little clusters of pears since summer. Also in the jug are a couple of different Salvias: 'Santa Barbara' and something else, with some Achillea and Buddleja - all of which are from a buddy of mine at work. Half of my garden has been carted from News Magazines' headquarters. Cuttings and seeds, are delivered to my desk each deadline, potted in some rocket-fuel-cocktail of a potting mix, as these plants have all thrived in their new unfamiliar surroundings. Grazie mille Francesco.

In my last entry, I really ignored the time that had lapsed between posts - my apologies. I have been MIA in the garden. I did however, manage to come inside for Easter and make my first ever hot cross buns! They were best straight out of the oven, above, with a good spreading of Lurpak butter.

The days are so beautiful at the moment, I have been more outside than in. From morning to evening, I've been working on a new garden bed running down the driveway, and making some breathing space for plants strangling each other in the eastern garden bed. The eastern bed is what I first worked on when I moved to Pine Hill, and is what I look out to from my desk here in the cottage. It is so pleasing to discover all the baby plants that are sprouting from seed - all to be transplanted in the coming days to the new bed...Enough typing. I can see the Lambs Ears I have lifted out of the ground beginning to wilt...

Red Raspberries

Autumn is the best time for raspberries here. They do try to fruit in spring, but its really too hot for the little morsels. Now they are plump and sweet. I think they taste better at the end of the day. I wonder weather its the same starch-converting-to-sugar thing that goes on with peas (I've read you should pick peas at the end of the day for this reason). I was picking some for desert by torchlight the other night - they were chilled and so sweet. I have to share with Molly - she finds them rather tasty and has learned to pull them off their cores one by one. I mistakenly pruned half my canes to the ground in summer - I did an experiment as I wasn't sure when to prune... shouldn't have cut them to the ground - i'd have twice as many raspberries if I'd left them alone. Note to self for next year: leave raspberries 'til winter. The more vigorous neighbouring youngberries are growing everywhere, and are being transplanted to climb the chookyard fences. Gosh I hope they do as well over there, we had so many huge and delicious fruit last spring.