To every thing there is a season

Last summer’s berry harvest was perfectly timed for illustrating a series of juice labels with the highly creative team at Stromme Throndsen Design.

And that was when I resolved to take better care of our fruit bushes. 

A few years ago we planted black and red currants, gooseberries and raspberries. They always bear fruit but somehow their maintenance had slipped out of focus. I thought they came under my husband’s domain and my husband thought I had commandeered their upkeep!

I chose a mild day in January to do some restorative pruning. It was a joy to lavish attention on the bushes, cutting out old stems and trimming side shoots. This year’s buds were already pink and swollen, bearing promise.

And I promise I'll have my paintbrushes at the ready, come the summer.

"Autumn is the mellow season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits." Samuel Butler

School's out!

Loosed from the routine that reigns between nine and four term time, the parents are having difficulty adapting to the muddle that is seeping into the working week. 
Daughter number one is six thousand odd miles away but keeps us appeased with updates of camel trekking in Rajasthan. 
Boy ricochets between festivals pausing briefly by the well stocked fridge and the washing machine in the interim. 
Daughter number two has adjusted her clock to British Teenager Time which means I can at least hide in my studio until lunchtime before she has even breakfasted.   

So in relative serenity, (unless it’s hot, and the window is open, and a fly has got in, and is eating my watercolours, that have honey in the binder to keep them moist... which means when I eventually manage to swat it, there’s a coloured splat depending on which blob of paint the fly has been eating, strange but true), I’m working on a lovely commission painting summer fruits. It gives me the perfect opportunity to dally in the garden choosing my subjects carefully.

Alpine strawberries are not actually on the list but they’ve been so prolific this year I had to paint them too.
Now where’s that fly?   

The lucky damsons, that escaped the sticky spoons of jam making, found a snug home in a charity shop teacup.

Tarting up some old trays!

September and the plums still aren't quite ripe, but there's a promising harvest tugging at the weary boughs so I've been sprucing up some fruit trays in anticipation. 

Here's how in three easy steps.

1. Make friends with your local greengrocer before scouring his rubbish pile for discarded wooden trays.

2. Paint three sides of each tray with a couple of coats of pale grey wood primer.

3. Paint the fourth side matt black...

...and enjoy your harvest!

Fruit and veg

"I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than of cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs." Joseph Addison 1672-1719

For the past couple of weeks I have had my head down in the studio painting lots of lovely fresh veggies for a packaging project. I can’t reveal them yet but they’ll be coming to a “soup”ermarket near you soon!!

And what with trying to keep up with the Olympics too, my own garden has been sorely neglected, so today I’ll be sprinting up to the orchard and hurdling over the fruit cage to see what's left of the redcurrants and raspberries.

"Tails" of the Unexpected

I can always rely on rhubarb to cheer me up, on yet another wet morning, when my plans to belatedly plant my maincrop potatoes are once again thwarted. The beautifully prepared bed I have earmarked for them is now a moated island... and not the tropical sort!

The rhubarb however is in full swing. Don’t you love a true stalwart that delivers reliably on minimal attention? 

Amid visions of simmering pies and steaming crumbles I tug at the crimson stalks and unknowingly dislodge a bundle of dry grass at the centre of the plant. Quick as a flash, half a dozen teeny, velveteen bodies with pink tails wriggle out of sight. I do hope they find their way back to their cosy nest and I do I hope I haven’t picked the umbrella that was sheltering them from the rain. Sorry chaps!

Patience is a Virtue

One of the many pleasures of gardening is the constant mulling over, of what to put, where?

One such conundrum for me last year, was how to edge the herb garden. Temporarily some surplus frilly-leaved lettuce seedlings looked good.... until the chickens found them!

Then one day, unable to resist the seduction of a handwritten sign, I came home with my problem solved. A single wild strawberry plant, all jagged leaves and simple white flowers, nestled in a little cardboard box with chocolate mint and sorrel. 

 It looked lovely in its new home. I was so very tempted to rush out and get a couple of dozen more to fill in the gaps. 

Over the past year however I have been transplanting runners from the mother plant so I now have my coveted twenty-four hugging the brick paths. 

And what's more, the chickens don't even bother to snaffle the tasty strawberries!

Zen and the Art of Marmalade

I’ve spent the past few weeks painting botanical illustrations of oranges and lemons, among other ingredients... all will be revealed when they are published.

What I can reveal now though, is that since Seville oranges are in season I have dusted off my preserving pan and begun musing about marmalade. Here are some points to bear in mind.

Seville oranges only make a brief apperance in the market, buy as many as you can carry.

Make much more marmalade than you can eat yourself, a prettily labelled jar makes a lovely gift.

Don’t start googling marmalade recipes late at night.

Don’t google marmalade recipes at all! (.....unless you start in July) 

Those little orbs of tangy, citrus magic will not wait for ever. 

Less is more. My 34 year old preserves book has long lost its cover and the yellowing pages are held together with a rubber band, but its advice endures.

Start collecting jam jars early so you will not be obliged to lick out the nearly empty mustard jar or eat up the lone gherkin floating in musty brine.

In my experience a square of muslin is never ‘to hand’ to wrap the pips. A new, clean, freshly rinsed kitchen cloth is perfect.

Citrus juice and chapped hands are not good bedfellows. 

When enthusiasm begins to wane pop the remaining oranges in the freezer, there are only so many evenings in any one week one should spend hunched over a chopping board.

Autumn arrived this week in the form of punishing gusts and heavy downpours. It has left the garden teetering towards the horizontal; picking raspberries is now a hands and knees job and a row of bean poles has been completely flattened.

The chickens too are looking disheveled, like battered feathery hats that have been languishing at the bottom of the dressing-up box for too long. Major Johns, the cockerel, is running around half-naked, minus his glossy tail feathers and his fluffy black breeches, accusing me with his beady eye, of having hidden his trousers.

I’m only glad I staked the dahlias well. They’re standing impeccably straight and tall, commanding the flower border like stout matrons in gaily coloured overalls. A big bunch of their starry blooms, purple, deep coral, magenta and party pink accompanies me in the kitchen while clad in my coloured apron I deal with piles of beans, raspberries, cucumbers, plums and crabapples.

Still wondering what to do with the last of the plum crop?  ...and wondering what to do with the kids in the last few days of the school holidays?  Here's a quick and easy recipe from my Painted Garden Cookbook (Running Press)

Hot Cross Kebabs

The origin of this recipe was a hastily engineered dessert of leftover hot cross buns and a bowl of freshly picked plums. As a rule, anything served on a stick generates an extra level of expectation in our house, and this yummy treat of warm, juicy, spiced plums and toasty currant croutons did not disappoint. 

Serves 4

8 large plums

1/4 cup (60 ml) maple syrup

1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

2 hot cross buns

1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower oil

Plain Greek-style yogurt for serving

Preheat the oven 400º F (200º C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Halve the plums to remove the stones, and then quarter the flesh. Combine the plum quarters in a large bowl with the maple syrup and the spices, and stir to coat evenly.

Cut each bun into 8 cubes, then toss the chunks in another large bowl with the sunflower oil. Thread the pieces of plum and bun on 4 metal skewers, alternating between 2 pieces of fruit and 1 piece of bun.

Place the skewers on the prepared baking sheet, drizzle over any remaining spiced maple syrup, and bake for 10 minutes, turning once, until the plums look juicy and the bread is golden-brown. Allow to cool slightly.

Serve the kebabs, scraping every last drop of gooey syrup off the parchment, with a dollop of creamy Greek-style yogurt.