Arboreal Blues

In the last days before Christmas it would be a far too Grinch or Scrooge-like to focus on sad feelings so the blues I am thinking about are the colours. Now you may have gone out and bought a splendid Blue Spruce for your Christmas tree and very fine it will look too. With the botanical name Picea Pungens you should have that wonderful resinous aroma so evocative of the season that no-one in the Real Tree brigade is prepared to forgo.

On the other side of the planet, in Australia there is another kind of tree flaunting the most bewitching mauve-blue at this time of the year. It is almost the same colour we find in southern England on the floor of  beech woodland in April and May when the bluebell carpet flourishes. This paler colour is borne aloft in clouds of blossom on the branches of the jacaranda trees in late November to December. I have only ever seen them as street trees in an urban setting but it is easy to see why they are so popularly planted for that purpose.

 

A vibrant blue against the brick and stone buildings and seemingly more purple against a blue sky, the flowers eventually carpet the ground and give way to feathery leaves. 

 A blue to uplift; a blue to beat the blues! If the flowers of lilac and lavender have colours named after them then surely the jacaranda deserves no less an honour.

Family Favourites

When I was setting up home, my mother sent me a recipe folder. A useful gift, I thought but I was delighted  when I opened it to find that the pages inside were not all blank but she had already written in so many of the things she knew I loved and further, she had handed pages around to all the cooks in the family so I had a good selection of all their specialities.  Compiled before word processors and emails became commonplace, it is very special to have all these suggestions and hints and tips written in their own hand. At first the vast geographical distance seemed to lessen working from these recipes; the handwriting evoked the voices and even mannerisms of these relatives and friends so that something of their presence appeared in my own kitchen. Now with the deaths of several of the older generation, that sense of presence is even more cherished.

 One of the recipes I usually turn to at this time of the year, having made White Christmas, is one given by Auntie Gladys. She used to make a dessert based on a  rice cereal and date mix pressed into pie plates to set and then topped with whipped cream and fresh fruit to serve. I imagine it would have been a dessert she would have contributed to club lunches or suppers at events where all would have been expected to 'bring a plate'. I know it was very popular and regarded as her specialty.

I have adapted it (as I believe have others in the family) to make squares to serve with coffee or drinks at Christmas. I added salted peanuts having discovered how well they go with the dates to make a good salt-sweet combination. And on the recommendation of child tasters, I have inevitably included chocolate chips. The problem then became a name for this as it is clearly to no longer any kind of special fruit tart. I have decided in honour of the lady who inspired it and the season in which I usually make it, to name it Glad Tidings; the news that I was making a batch was always regarded as good news in our house.

Glad Tidings

Ingredients

4 ozs margarine or butter(125g)
4 ozs brown sugar (125g)
4 ozs Dates (125g)
4 cups of rice bubbles ( I cup =125ml aprrox)
Half a cup of small or roughly chopped salted peanuts
Half a cup of chocolate chips #

To assemble

1. Line a tin (approx 18cm by 30 cm) with baking paper and butter the paper.
2. Place the rice cereal -once again it is the snap, crackle, pop type - in a large bowl  along with the peanuts. I use the economy peanuts as they tend to be small enough not to need chopping up but if the larger, more luxurious ones are what you have to hand, then coarsely chop them.
3. In a saucepan put the butter  and brown sugar. Snip the dates with scissors into thirds and add to the butter and sugar. Stir gently over a low heat until the butter melts, the sugar dissolves, the dates begin to blend in and you get a glassy toffee mixture. It will may take up ten minutes but don't be tempted to rush it or to turn your attention elsewhere or it will burn. What you want is a thick, gloopy liquid studded with some lumps of the dates.
4. Pour this mixture into the cereal and nut mix and stir well to combine.
5. Spread this into the lined tin and press down really firmly and evenly.
6. While it is still warm sprinkle over the choc chips. (I have sometimes added these into the mixture before spreading it into the tin, but it is easier to convince children that there is chocolate in there if they can see it on the top.) While the mixture is still warm the chocolate should melt and fuse with the base.
7. Set aside to cool completely and then use a bread knife to saw the mixture into squares.

I quite like to give hand made gifts, if I have made the time to prepare them. I have gone to great lengths to master florentines and lebkuchen but boxes of this and White Christmas have been as well received. Guess they have become my speciality!

White Christmas - a recipe

Last night I made up a batch of a sweet snack that became popular during my childhood in Australia. As I put it aside to firm up overnight and closed the kitchen curtains, I began planning this post. I was going to say, straight after the title, that this post would not be offering any kind of spell or charm to influence the weather. But then this morning when I opened the curtains to the following scene - well - I began to wonder!

To get back to the cooking. I haven't made this recipe for several years but then this year I have scope for some of the little extras and, rich and varied though the range of shop bought Christmas food has become, this is one that needs to be home-made. Being based on crisped rice cereal, (like the kind that goes snap, crackle and pop) it is a recipe that children seem to be happy to help with. To help make it that bit easier I have measured most of the ingredients by volume rather than weight. A small metric measuring jug makes it all much quicker to get to the  fun mixing part.

White Christmas

Ingredient List

100g Trex

150g Creamed coconut (This is the solid kind you buy in a box, not in a can. See on the left below)

1 Teaspoon vanilla

450 ml crisped rice cereal

250 ml dried milk powder

250 ml icing sugar

250 ml dessicated coconut

250 ml chopped dried fruit and nuts  - I used dried cranberries, sultanas and almonds

 Method

Line a 8 inch square baking tin with baking parchment.

Grate, shred or finely chop the creamed coconut.

In a small pan over a low heat melt the Trex, then add the creamed coconut and stir until that too is melted. (Be careful with this as the coconut will burn quite readily if you don't give it your undivided attention. While a little browning only makes for a toasted flavour, the colour changes  and makes the result more of a suntanned Christmas.)

Add the vanilla to the melted liquid and set aside.

Place the cereal into a large bowl and slightly crush it with a spoon.

Stir in the rest of the dry ingredients and mix well. 

Now add the liquid mixture and stir well to combine. It will be a rather dry mixture but make sure that all the ingredients are evenly mixed throughout.

 Put about half of the mixture into the  lined tin and even it out. Pack it down well with the back of a spoon and smooth it over. Pile the rest of the mixture on top and again press it down really firmly especially at the edges and smooth the top.

Now set it aside somewhere cool for several hours to firm up and solidify.

Then turn it out onto a board and use a breadknife to saw it into small squares. It keeps well in a sealed container.

I have seen many variations of this sweet some with glace fruit and crystalised ginger; some with a layer of white icing and silver dragees on top.  In Australia the recipe would  have Copha a kind of coconut vegetable shortening but as it is not available in the UK I have subsituted Trex and creamed coconut, which is readily available from larger supermarkets and stores which sell ingredients for Indian or Asian cooking. This substitution was recommended  by Australia House no less!

Meanwhile in the garden, one of the clipped box bushes  had  been dressed up as a Christmas pudding.

A Seasonal Oddity

Here we are in late November with the temperature outside sulking at around freezing. In the garden, the annuals have long since shown that their year is up, the evergreens are quietly living up to their title and the perennials have withdrawn their life force into the ground to hibernate. It would be all to easy to think that we have to wait for the snowdrops to herald in the new and show that the seasons are turning. But in my garden there is an oddity, a plant that comes up in the autumn and dies down in early summer.

 

 It is alexanders and was amongst a collection of herbs I put in several years ago. I have since learned that in some parts of the country it is considered a roadside weed and I can see why that might be but having never seen it on roadsides around here I was totally unaware of that at the time.I remember when it disappeared early in its first summer I thought it was yet another plant that had declined my invitation to flourish in my patch. I was delighted to see it re-emerge in October and by the next autumn I had learned not to let it set seed, attractive though the shiny black seeds on ochre coloured stalks are. It is clearly very happy to thrive here. I value it for its fresh green when many other leaves are dull and grey and the  early honey scented flowers loved by the lacewings. And now I have realised that it was an early precursor of celery I will be using it much as I use lovage in the summer.

 When I went out to pick some two days ago, I noticed all the stems had bowed  to honour the presence  of Jack Frost.  I noticed that the water in the rain barrel was almost completely frozen. The elemental force and artistry that could sculpt a glassy plaque of swirling abstract patterns and sign it with the delicate etching of a beech leaf all in the course of a few hours is certainly worthy of such homage.

Making Mincemeat

I guess with Stir up Sunday behind us now it is not too soon to be talking about Christmas preparations. This year mine will be rather different as we will be spending the holiday away from home so the dinner won't be cooked in my kitchen by me.  It is a long time since that happened, time for a new family tradition to take shape. Without the turkey and trimmings to think about, I can turn my attention to some of the little extras like the mince pies.
Looking in the cupboard, I had partly-used packs of dried friut left over from cake baking so I decided to make up some fruit mince rather than use jars of  the shop bought kind. The best recipe for this is in NMAA Cooks which has to be the most used book on my kitchen bookshelf. From the spots on the page it is obvious I have made this several times before and I know it makes much more than I could use in a year. Although I have kept it from one year to the next, now that each ingredient package has a 'best by' date wagging a warning finger, I would not advise or even suggest that anyone else does the same. I am only saying that I stored it in a sealed container and used it the following year and no one suffered any adverse consequences. None-the-less this time I adapted my trusted recipe to reduce it to one fifth of the orignal quantity. That should match more closely both the ingredients I had to hand and my ambitions for mince pie making this year.

Fruit Mincemeat

Ingredient List

100g each of raisins, sultanas and currants

25g mixed peel

50g grated suet

100g cooking apple -  peeled and  coarsely grated or finely chopped

100g muscovado sugar 

1/2 teaspoon of grated lemon and orange rind

 1/2 teaspoon mixed cake spice (or a combination of cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice)

50 ml brandy or rum.

Closer scrutiny of my prep picture will reveal that the orange has become a clementine, there are no currants (I substituted extra raisins and sultanas to make up the difference) and that no one supermarket has my undivided loyalty.


Method
Check over the dried fruit and remove any little stalks then chop the fruit coarsely. This is so that they will take up the flavours quickly and also not bloat when the pies are cooked. Then in a large bowl combine the chopped fruit with the rinds, spices and suet.
In a cup mix the sugar and spirit to disslove the sugar, then pour it over the fruit. Stir it all well, cover and leave for a couple of hours. Stir well again and pack into a clean sterilised jar. Cover and store in a cool dry place for at  least 4 weeks. (Made it just in time!)
This made about 1/2 litre of mincemeat.

 I think I will be turning the jar on its side and rotating it a few times every couple of days just to make sure that the mixture at the bottom of the jar isn't the only bit to benefit from all that lovely sugary, spirited syrup.

And I got to thinking that a similar mixture without the suet,  gently heated to cook the apple  then cooled and whirled into softened vanilla icecream and refrozen would make a very good iced version of Christmas Pudding. But would that be one new tradition too many?

Little Boxes - Part 2

I knew I wasn't finished with making those little crochet boxes I saw on Kirstie's Homemade Home. Far from it. I was planning to build on the basic design, adding handles and some kind of embellishment. And so I did. But as they are so good to make being such a portable project, quick, easy and use up left over bits and pieces, their numbers are steadily increasing and they seem to be appearing all over the house.

 The red one - now with handles - is the ideal size for holding a ball of yarn, a crochet hook, scissors and a needle case thereby contributing to the proliferation of its own kind. The blue one with its built in slit handles shows that the basic box is evolving.

Even when I was working in the garden clearing up leaves, an idea for another change to the basic design came to me. As someone who finds fascination in so many of Mother Nature's designs, you might imagine my inspiration may have come from the exquisite structure of an acorn cup or a larch cone. It was something much less decorative and entirely functional.

The green bag provided by the council for the collection of garden waste! Suddenly I noticed that is is basicly constructed in the same way having four rectangular sides stitched onto a square base. It even has the seams on the outside to help it to stand up.  Maybe I could use braid to add handles in the same way.

So this fascination with little crochet boxes looks like being far from over - at least for the time being. Oh Kirstie Allsopp, what have you started?

Small Green Shoot

No - I haven't noticed any of these in the economy of late, sadly, but if I thought that I could sprout it on my kitchen window sill, I promise I would give it my best shot! The small green shoot that I mean is the lemon grass plant that I have tried growing. I can't say just where I got this idea, it may have been Alys Fowler in her Edible Garden series but apparently if you put  into water the lemon grass stalks that you can buy in some supermarkets for Asian cooking,  they will produce roots and you can then plant them into pots and hey presto! you have your own lemon grass plant. A  useful novelty here in the south of the UK.
Being the sort of windowsill gardener who has in the past produced avocado plants from the stones and pineapple plants from the tops, I just had to give this challenge a go. The stalks I bought for this looked as if they may have been cut a little high - I have had some that looked more promising in the past but I chose the best I could find and popped them into a vase of water. I waited a full 2 weeks I think before I started checking for any signs of progress and when there were no signs after a further 2 weeks I simply forgot about them. I kept them in  the vase of water and simply added in any fresh herbs I brought in from the garden to have to hand for cooking. It was only when I realised that some lime scented mint had put on a lot of growth and seemed to be crying out to have its new roots in soil that I took everything out of the vase and discovered that the lemon grass had roots too. Wonderful!
I potted them up and waited again to see if the roots would take and go on to sprout new growth at the green end of the plant. And after several more weeks one of them did indeed. For something that took so long to grow roots and then produce a tiny green shoot it has rather taken off and the blades of green are growing noticeably almost from day to day.  Now of course I want to see if it will produce a further basal clump from the roots, something I could harvest and use to cook with. I may have to wait but then I am used to that by now.

 

All kinds of people are gardeners. They have all kinds of reasons for gardening. The one trait they must all have in common is patience, I think.

Little Boxes

I just love 'How to' programmes so Kirstie's Home-made Home is unmissable viewing for me. Yes, I know we can't all go and have a one-to-one tutorial with a master craftsman or woman and then have them turn up later with the project we started beautifully finished for us but I don't mind that - I just love watching them try crafts I haven't tried before or come up with new ways of working with the ones I have tried. Watching Kirstie learning to crochet with Erica Knight, I found the urge to try making the little gift basket irrestible. I even had yarn and hook to hand so I started right away.

I made the squares for the larger one on the left first. In the programme, they had used twine, which would be stiffer and make a firmer fabric. I used an 8 ply  pure wool knitting yarn with a 3.5 crochet hook but I wasn't all that sure it would stand up by itself when made up. I then made the smaller basket with a slightly thicker yarn I happened to have in my collection of leftover bits and bobs. That made up very well using the overcasting seam shown on the programme. I decided then that perhaps backstitching the side seams would make them more rigid and would help the larger basket stay upright. Having done that I found that they worked even better when the seams were left on the outside. And so there we have it. Where to go from here with this? I think little handles would be good,  and maybe a quilted lining for the larger one to help keep its shape; oh and maybe either embroidered or crochet motifs. Yes they would make great little gift baskets but I would like to think they would suggest themselves as more than a receptacle, that they might indeed be another little gift in themselves.

Two further thoughts came to me while I was making these. Firstly, simply working in double crochet rows (single crochet if you work to US patterns) makes such a lovely firm fabric. Secondly that both the yarns I had chosen would probably felt really well. Now there's a technique I haven't tried yet.
I'll be watching again tonight and, if needs be, reminding myself that for the time being the house can't cope with the paraphernalia and materials needed for yet another craft hobby and that I already have plenty of 'projects pending' and works in progress to keep me busy.

True Colours

How quickly the time passes when the trees demand to be noticed, when they get to flaunt the inner leaf colours they might always be if they didn't need the green of chorophyll to photosynthesise the sunlight. Here the countryside specialises in golds, yellows and tans as beech, birch, hawthorn and oak predominate.

 

Still an uplifting sight even with the absence of  the flame red of garden grown maples and soumac. But time was not standing still. A few days ago the poplars at the across the field were a sentinel row of pheasant-coloured plumes and now they are  scarcely visible smudges through which to view the fields beyond.

With a forecast of wind and rain I set out to capture some of the best I could find with my camera. I found that up on the downs I was already too late. Many of the trees had already stripped down to their ivy green

underwear.

 

But finally I found the silver birches much closer to home. So much about them exudes elegance just now - the silver bark, the gold, diamond shaped leaves, the regal purple of the sweeping twigs already bare. Truly, as Coleridge called it, The Lady of the Woods.

In Praise of Pumpkins

Just now they are inescapable, aren't they? Lanterns, cookies, decorations and mercifully, simply as vegetables. There was a time when pumpkins were only sold at this time of year. They were orange, round and best suited only for carving. Now we have greater range of squashes and pumpkins, some ornamental but others such as gem, acorn, butternut and Crown Prince with flesh that is richer both in colour and flavour. As locally grown butternuts are available now I like to make the most of them; soup, pies and, this year, bread.

Pumpkin Bread

This is my take on a recipe from Beverly Sunderland Smith's book,
Bread and Beyond.

Ingredients
375g pumpkin peeled and chopped
30g Butter
1 small onion finely chopped
a 7g sachet active dry yeast
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon of turmeric
100 - 150 ml water
500g strong white flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg yolk plus 2 teaspoons water

How to
1.Steam the pumpkin until it is very soft. Meanwhile melt the butter in a pan and cook the onion over low heat until it is softened but not brown. Take off the heat and add the steamed pumpkin to the pan and mash it till smooth. Leave to cool until warm enough to handle.
2. Sift the flour, turmeric and salt into a large bowl and stir in the yeast and sugar. Make a well in the centre and add the warm pumpkin, onion and butter mixture. Add 100ml of the water and work to make a soft dough. I know it seems a small amount of water for the amount of flour but the pumpkin puree is semi-liquid. Depending on the flour and the type of squash, it may need more liquid but work the mix first to see just how much if any.
3. Knead the dough for ten minutes until it is even and elastic.Form it into a ball and place it in  a bowl, cover with a damp cloth and leave it in a warm place to double in bulk. This should take about an hour.
4. Punch the dough down and take off a small piece. Shape the rest into a ball, keep tucking the edges under and turning until a good shape is made. Place it on a greased baking tray. Poke a hole into the top and shape the small piece into a little stalk and pop it into the hole. Make several deep slashes around the slides - about 8 or 9. Cover again. This time it might be better to use a large polythene bag and ensure it won't touch the rising dough. Leave in a warm place for another hour to rise and double in size.
Heat the oven to 220 deg C.
5. When the loaf has risen, make a glaze with the egg yolk and water. Brush on the glaze leaving the slashes unglazed. Bake for 25 mins or until the bread sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom.

Made like this, the loaf makes a good centrepiece for  a seasonal feast, cut into wedges with soup or sliced with cheese or ham and chutney. It could of course be shaped into a more conventional loaf. 
 I added the turmeric for flavour and extra colour but I think this would be worth experimenting with herbs and or spices.

Hooked again!

 I have taken up my crochet hook again. I learnt to crochet when I was confined to bed with mumps as a child and it has been an off and on past-time ever since. This latest 'on' came about since I have been seeing all the throws and cushion covers made of squares with gorgeous colours bordered with white and when I found Posy's instructions for just such a pattern, the urge to give it a go was irresistible.

 At the dreamy planning stage of this project, I made a list of the shades I would use for the colours; a restrained and elegant palette of colours.  That ideal lasted until I finished the first square and checked my yarn stash of left over odds and ends  for the colours on my list and I realised that it wasn't going to work out like that.

You see as well as enjoying the process of the craft, my other aim was to put all those leftover bits to some use. We have lived in this house for so long that we have become decades deep in accumulated 'stuf'f' and  the time has come to excavate all those shelves, boxes and cupboard corners, bring out all those things that haven't seen the light of day for years; things we have long forgotten we ever put away for safe-keeping, in fact stuff we never knew we had. Recycling, re-purposing, reviving, restoring and yes, even removing have become a whole new set of by-words, a sort of by-vocabulary. With that in mind, I hardly thought my new project should involve the re-purposing of any of the stock of the local craft store or yarn shops.( I admit to raiding the yarn stash of my daughter-in-law for a few, a very few, oddments.) 

And now having 16 squares done, I need to decide what the work should become. I certainly  would have no trouble in finding the materials to make a cushion without leaving the house. Do we really need another cushion? If it was like the ones that Son and D-i-l bought from the big blue store, that unzip to release a quilt to wrap up in on the sofa, then yes.

I feel a challenge coming on!

First Frost

This morning was bright and cold. Frost crystals rimmed the leaves and crunched under foot on the grass. Even without the weather forecast the evening before, that chill gasp of air as I closed the bathroom window before going to bed was indication enough that the almost full moon moon would be overseeing our first frosty night of the season. Why did I ignore the signs and leave the two potted citrus trees outside? Who knows, but they are safely tucked into their winter quarters in the conservatory now along with the scented pelargoniums.

First frosts will make for brighter colours of autumn leaves and sweeter parsnips it seems but more immediately the fine ice crystals transform otherwise ordinary leaves flowers and berries until the rays of the sun warm them.  There is so much to capture with a camera, even the least spectactular of the rose hips.
And who would have thought that the ubiquitous ivy would have become camera-worthy? Each leaf edged in bright silver and catching the low rays of the sun.

A Perfect Day

Yesterday we had the best weather for the whole of the month. How can I be so sure with so much of October yet to come? My meteorological skills are almost negligible; mountains of dripping laundry and rows of drought-stricken plants are testimony to that. I know that yesterday was the best because I can't imagine any October day being any better. Warm sunshine, clear skies and gentle breezes.
And yesterday, after weeks of living behind a screen of 2 metre high corn, the silage harvesters came into the field at the back of the house and restored our view out over the new South Downs National Park.

 

We decided to mark the event with late 'elevenses' in the garden, watching the precise choreography of the harvester and the tractors towing the trailers to collect the silage as it was cut, since  by then they were working at the lower end of the field. I made scones adding cheese, apple (no surprise there if you have read my previous posts) and rosemary. I imagined these additions would work well together as I know that  apple pie served with a mature cheddar is not unheard of and I have recipes for apple pie which have cheese added to the pastry. From there my mind moved to the cheese and rosemary flapjacks I used to make from a Cranks recipe and then it circled back again to the internet recipes I have seen lately pairing apple with rosemary. Being a little short of milk I substituted creme fraiche mixed with water instead. I was pleased  that the whole recipe worked very well. The creme fraiche made the scones very light and the flavours all worked together. Warm from the oven they went down a treat.

Making the most of the glorious sunshine we went to Old Winchester Hill for an afternoon stroll. Hazy though the sunshine had become, the views were as lovely as ever. 

Walking back to the car, we seemed to be engulfed in small clouds of airborne ladybirds. Whatever social ritual they were involved in, I have only once before seen them in such large numbers - oh, the aphid population must have been quaking in terror!

Back home as I loaded the laundry basket with fresh garden-dried bed linen, I heard a piercing call high above me and looked up to see a buzzard hanging high up in the blue. 

Just one day and so many pleasures.

Bramble Rambles

I love the way birds visit the garden. I encourage them with food and plenty of shelter. In their turn they repay me with amusing antics, birdsong and a degree of pest control. And they perch in the trees and shrubs and deliver seeds from the berries they have been feasting on in the nearby hedgerows. This leaves me with an endless battle against dog roses, hawthorns and most of all brambles. For most of the year brambles are a nuisance; catching at clothes, scratching at skin and embedding thorns in un-gloved fingers bold enough to try to pull them up. But early autumn is different. Now I am grateful for those defiant few which have taken root so deep in thickets of shrubs or bamboo that they have proved indestructible. The berries are gleaming, plump and ready to be picked. I gather them in handfuls - if I wanted more I would have to take a basket and forage among the hedges bordering the footpaths between the fields and would soon have enough for any culinary project. But these few would be enough to add to my breakfast porridge or heat just until the juices run then sprinkle with sugar and a flick of Five spice powder to make a warm topping for ice cream. Either way the scent of a bowlful of fresh blackberries is one of my favourite aromas and if they are soft and juicy enough they may never make it as far as the kitchen anyway.
I have until this evening to enjoy this particular pleasure. Folklore has it that from the tenth of October onwards it is unwise to pick blackberries as the Devil spits on them all then. That aside, country wisdom  reminds us that other foragers besides us will be harvesting as well and the berries will  likely be infested with insects and mould.

With fruit for me

Life continues  to be about all things apple as other varieties ripen. The last is Katy. As red as Snow-white's temptation, crisp,  juicy and mostly what the supermarkets would label 'lunch box size.' Now with no lunch boxes to be packed they will  overspill the fruit bowl and sprawl across the worktop, scenting the kitchen with the fragrance of their waxy coating while they wait to be snacked on or crushed to yield their pink-tinted juice.
 We will leave some on the tree to be enjoyed by the birds.One of the few joys of being snowbound  was seeing fieldfares coming into the garden for the crabapples and Japanese quinces. They would love the apples. Meanwhile roe deer have been coming in to nibble on the leaves on the tips of the branches since the leaves first appeared in the spring.

Working  near the apple trees in this part of the garden, I often caught myself humming snatches of a Vaughan Williams tune and realised it was bubbling up from memories laid down as an eleven year old when singing lessons were delivered by the ABC Schools Broadcasting Service. Amongst a rather eclectic mix of folk songs, bush ballads, sea shanties and the occasional hymn was Linden Lea. I suppose that the words rather suit that particular spot, with the oak tree, grass and  birdsong. I remember loving that song when we learned it, singing it  while doing my evening jobs on the farm. It must have been the melody that appealed then as there was little match between words and that setting of undulating acres of wheat, sheep pasture and mallee scrub. I guess it was all part of a kind of subliminal programming, predisposing me to feel a sense of home in a place I had no idea I would ever visit let alone make my home in. Not that all our cultural education had an English bias. I must have been eight when I could recite the second verse of Dorothea McKellar's My Country with patriotic fervour, even if subsequently I would have to admit that 'the love of field and coppice, of green and shaded lanes' began to run in my veins. I suppose  it is rather special to feel a sense of being at home in two very different countries even if it is difficult to explain.  See? Pause to reflect in a garden and your thoughts can end up in all kinds of places; from apples to poetry to patriotism.

Heart's Ease

Do I like pansies? No. Not the large strident yellow ones with a shapeless black splodge in the middle and not the floppy big white ones with a large purple bruise and petals too broad and flimsy to withstand being folded in half in the slightest breeze. No I don't like those at all. But the smallest violas, now that is a different matter entirely. Pretty colours, intricate markings; faces of miniature serenity and the most delicate scent.
Several weeks ago,  I was having tea in the garden behind a teashop. On each table was a shallow terracotta pot with just white violas all flowering fit to burst. Such a simple and delightful combination and on that warm day the scent was noticeable without being overpowering. No surprise then that I couldn't resist a tray of  tiny violas on the next visit to a plant centre.
Now just what containers did I have that would suit them? I first planted up a glazed bowl to place on a garden table as a living arrangement. Then I discovered, hidden away amongst all the plant pots that can't be stacked, a collection of chipped cups. Too damaged to be sipped from, too nice to throw away or smash up to use for drainage. I  drilled holes in the bottom using a tile bit and marking the inside of the base with masking tape to stop the drill bit from slipping. By pressing them into a tray of damp sand to support them it was easy enough to make a drainage hole without any further cracking. I knew there would come a time when these  would be just what I was looking for.

That leaves me with two questions. 

What other plants would suit tea cup planting?  Perhaps little primroses or cyclamen coum.

And do I like pansies? Well clearly that depends.

...and Small Successes

Following the buzz of achievement on completing the scarf,  I remembered another pattern I had tried and then set aside. I had bought a Bergere de France book on the strength of the appeal of a jumper used in advertising the book in magazines. When I bought it, the assistant mentioned that sometimes the translation from French wasn't always accurate and to bear this in mind.  With later hindsight I think this suggestion just gave me an excuse to give up sooner than I might have done. At the time I had  confidently and optimisticly cast on the back and begun only to find that nothing remotely resembling the illustration was emerging from the needles. I abandoned the jumper and made first one jacket then another from that booklet.
Now seemed like a good time to try again, this time with only enough stitches to work across two pattern repeats. Ignoring the chart diagram, I worked from the written instructions alone, simply doing exactly as written. And it all worked out as it should. Amazing! Yes it was different to what I thought it would be but I could see that it was indeed just like the illustration.

So what colour will I choose for my new jumper?

Tiny Triumphs

I try to hold fast to the belief that the difference between success and failure is usually just one more try. Some where I have come upon the wisdom that says that in order to end up on our feet we just have to get up one more time than we get knocked down. It is not always that easy to spot success just about to show up when we are in the middle of the string of failures that are helping us to learn how to be successful or to get right whatever it is we have our sights on. Am I working up to a treatise on the larger lessons of life here? Well no, it is just about knitting - for now, anyway.

I

I had bought the yarn a couple of years ago in a moment of bargain tub weakness. A lovely silk mix with a nubbly texture, the six balls bundled together as a job lot beckoned alluringly with their marked down to a not-to-be-missed-price tag. Whatever I would make with it was far from my mind at the time. Some how it didn't quite match up to any patterns I wanted to make and as it shed little organge bits when I worked with it I had put it aside. Then looking around on Knitting Daily I found a scarf pattern. Never very satisfied with any previous efforts with stitches that incorporated lacey holes, I thought the unevenness of the yarn might disguise any flaws in the execution so needles ready and off I went. It took no fewer than seven tries to get beyond the eighth row of the pattern. I don't know what suprised me more; the eventual success or the tenacity in unravelling and knitting up that many times. Vacuuming up a shower of little orange bobbles, I figured out that probably what made it so hard to start with was my assumption that it would be really easy and therefore didn't warrant the focus and attention that it did. So now I will face the cooler weather with a new wrap; whether it is a large scarf or a small shawl time will tell I guess.

Chutney and Chapels

I opened the curtains to find the view veiled in a light mist and apples scattered across the grass like an abandoned game of bowls. Keats's autumn had arrived. All that mild stillness, that intangible certainty that summer had slipped away and winter should be anticipated hung in the air. I knew that it was time to check the larder for ingredients, the pantry cupboard for empty jars and to head out into the garden with tubs to gather up the windfalls. Time to make not cider (sorry Keats,) but chutney!

My current favourite recipe I call:


Apple and Mustard Seed Chutney

• 500g Apples, peeled cored and diced
• 2 cups vinegar - preferably cider or white wine vinegar
• 250g onions peeled and finely chopped
• 2 and a half cups Demerara sugar
• 4 cloves garlic crushed
• 50g salt

Place all these ingredients in a large non-aluminium pan over a low heat and simmer stirring for 30 minutes until thickened and jam-like. Then add the following:

• half a cup of ground almonds
• 250g sultanas roughly chopped
• 6 tablespoons of yellow mustard seeds
• 2 teaspoons of cumin seed
  
• 3 teaspoons chilli powder (or to taste)
• 1 'thumb' fresh root ginger finely grated

Continue to cook over low heat for 10 minutes. Cover and cool to thicken and then bottle. This makes about 1 litre.

I first made this recipe with my mother from a recipe in SA Life magazine. Being an Australian recipe it refers to cup measures. This is equivalent to 8 fluid ounces or just under 250 ml but many measuring jugs have the cup measures on them. Every time I make a recipe like this it 'evolves' - this is the current version.
In the magazine this recipe had the title Indian Apple Chutney. It is such a good accompaniment to mature cheddar and crisply crusted bread. As this completes the classic trio on which that staple of English pub menu lunches, the Ploughman's Lunch is based, I think of it as very English, particularly as the key ingredients are apples and sultanas.
I will have a variety of apples to use - the original recipe used Granny Smiths - and I find that using some that mush during cooking and some that hold their shape make for a good texture.

And what about chapels? Keats wrote his Ode to Autumn in Winchester inspired by a walk across the water meadows to the chapel of St Cross. I have enjoyed this walk at this time of year several times. No evidence of threshing floors, cider presses or even beehives any more but a lovely level stroll along the waterside, accompanied by gliding swans feigning indifference until it seems you might produce a crust or two of bread. And there is always the prospect of the Wayfarers' Dole at the end of the walk or something more sustaining from the tearoom to help you make your way back.

Come September

And just as I changed the calendar page, I noticed that the view from the window was changing too. The leaves on the peonies by the path have become flushed with deepest red. Autumn can be a time to gather great armfuls of branches of coloured leaves and autumn fruits to display in the largest vases and jugs but it isn't time for such excesses just yet - just a hint of that, just a precursor of those times ahead.


I cut some and brought them inside then scoured the garden for flowers to go with them. There were a few marigolds but such strong burnished colours belonged as well to that time that hasn't come quite yet. Something gentler, something rich pink.


Perhaps some of summer's last flurry of roses.

Or perhaps zinnias. When I planted the seeds I expected to have the full range of Smartie colours in the picture on the packet but I have only had pink. The plants I put out to harden off in spring were almost devastated by those who leave silver trails; perhaps they have favourites, like many Smartie eaters and simply left all the pink ones. I love the brash openness of these flowers each with their carnival crown of tiny yellow stars.
But no, my choice was settled on roses. Was there ever any doubt? Zephirine Drouhin has bustled to the end of her season with superb floribundance and just one stem was all I needed. It rewards me with its scent, especially here in front of the kitchen window. Opening the window to let the house take in the last breath of summer, I work with the fragrance all around me. It calls to mind a wonderful passage by Jenny Joseph in her book Led by the Nose where she describes how the scent of roses always suggests that a special event is imminent.

Just a reminder that outside my window the seasons are sliding between summer and autumn.

Over two years? Really?

Can it be that long since I first decided to try blogging? Clearly it must be. The temptation is to simply abandon this and start over again. I have notebooks full of started articles and stories and a cupboard almost full of abandoned craft and sewing projects that for one reason or another did not make it to finished status. Mistakes that could not be recovered or unpicked, lost momentum, the passing of the moment filled with the passion that fired the beginning. All of these reasons I have felt could have been responsible but most probably I simply was waiting for things to be perfect.
Call it maturity but I realise now that kind of waiting is interminable and that to reach for perfection takes working not waiting.

So on I go. I take this up and move it on. Bring to this blog where I am now, and see where it goes from here.