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.

Cool Change

I am possibly jumping the gun when I proclaim that autumn is here - March can often be stinking hot in these parts - but the days have turned gentle and mornings are cool. The Farmer has decided today is the day to switch to work jeans and leave work shorts in his wake. The garden with all the summer rain and now unchallenging temperatures, looks perky - roses have their full colour and perfume, and all the different greens make things look happy to be alive. I was weeding yesterday and a little glossy green frog popped up out of the shasta daisies and sat on a leaf - he was the sweetest little thing, but I didn't draw too much attention to him in fear of the labrador (always by my side) fast ruining my blissful nature moment in a mouthful. So after a few minutes of sun baking, he disappeared amongst the lambs ears. I have prepared the veggie patch for winter deliciousness. The pictures, above, are of last year's attempt. Winter is good for show - you tend to channel Mr McGregor and those mischievous bunnies. Armed here with my Stephanie Alexander's Kitchen Garden Companion, I think I'll plant broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, a few cabbages, peas, spinach, spring onions, broad beans and want to try fennel, carrots and parsnips this year. I'll also throw in a chilli plant, seeing as The Farmer got carried away with the Round Up last year and caused it to shrivel. The soil looked wonderful turning it over with some extra cow manure - so many earthworms! Garden people talk about getting your soil to look like chocolate-for-plants - it appears to be the Lindt 90% cacao variety in the veggie patch. Hopefully plants reward me with plenty to harvest.

The Adventures of Molly and Huckleberry ©

We have a new addition to our extended family: Huckleberry. With the tragic loss of Banjo (The Farmer's trusty sidekick for so many years) we thought another little playmate would help brighten things up around here. Huckleberry at just eight weeks old, has settled in nicely to his new surroundings - he and Molly get along famously (she is beside herself with excitement). He was weary at first of the eight chooks we have roaming around the garden - though The Farmer is currently outside giving him a lesson on how chasing them is not ok - he seems to have overcome his poultry fears. He's a game little thing - he is right up there in Molly's face despite her contrasting size and her absentmindedness when it comes to the implications her giantism might ensue. Huckleberry is completely adorable - every bit a rascal. A huckleberry friend for The Farmer.

Little Italy

Summertime brought copious amounts of cherry tomatoes (from memory Tiny Tim went in the ground - that's what my pop grows too). I was also privileged to be given some seedlings of a local family's heirloom green tomatoes - which were a delicious (and aesthetically pleasing) addition to salads and Napolitana sauces. I couldn't help but think of the movie Fried Green Tomatoes every time I picked some. Basilico is also plentiful. The four bushes in the garden are more than enough for picking as I need in the kitchen. Like two Italian nonnas, Mrs M and I sat at my kitchen table the other night, filling colanders with leaves from the harvest, above. The room smelled delicious! And we've split the yield to make pesto, pasta/tomato sauces, and will dry the rest to use in the winter. Buono! Ciao.