Thursday, September 25, 2014


"I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers" Claude Monet

…and then when their petals have fallen, 
aren't seed heads just as compelling?

Friday, September 12, 2014

London Fashion Week… for Chickens

Hello, I’m Peggy MBE *

To coincide with London Fashion Week I’m proud to unveil my latest plumage. When I arrived at Mary’s coop some weeks ago I’ll admit that after a year of barn life with no direct sunlight I was due for a bit of a makeover.

Hulanicki, (who's a bit of a diva), was only too eager to rise to the challenge of giving me a few styling tips. She's quite a stunner. Passionate about the black and white Op art of the sixties, she can carry off shockingly bold designs with her slim figure and catwalk swagger. 

For me, fortunately, she toned things down a bit. I’m at that stage in life where a 'tunic to cover the tummy' is so much more flattering. Call it real fashion, for real fowl.

So, tah dah... I hope you like my textured layers, topped off with cheeky dip-dyed tail feathers! 

…job well done!

* I am named in memory of a dear friend. Peggy had been awarded an MBE for a lifetime of fundraising for sick children. 
Mine too is for services to the community... an egg a day for as long as I can remember.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

I Love Allotments

Earlier this summer I jumped at the invitation to visit a friend’s community allotment open day.
The sunny slope was like an intricate patchwork quilt. 
Colourful annuals were embroidered between rows of neatly weeded leeks.

Lolling cardoons danced around a chic scarecrow-ess, while abandoned courgettes, with their heavily swollen bellies, eyed the vigour of neighbouring climbing beans.

There were favourite nooks for private thoughts,

blue water butts hugging precious rainfall,

 lots of little sheds full of treasured garden tools,

and contentment written on absolutely everyone’s face!

Wednesday, September 3, 2014


How did we so quickly tumble into September? 

Carrots, sweetcorn, lettuce, beans, courgette, cucumber and plums, the succulent currency of August, 
has been exchanged for Autumn’s apples and blackberries. 

 The drone of heavy farm machinery competes with approaching thunderclouds as summer is rolled swiftly away. 

Rural idyll? 

Two buzzards were calling to each other last night; an extraordinary experience and an extraordinary sound, but every thirty-five seconds for two hours?  As I lay awake, I was wondering how I could most accurately describe the hullabaloo they were making. Imagine a terrier chewing on a squeaky toy and you’re somewhere close. 

Sweet dreams!