Drawn to the Country

Since moving to the country just over a decade ago I have been compelled to record the beauty I find in the every-day, as the seasons come and go, and for a few years now, I have been sharing my thoughts and sketches on rural life through this blog.

I am, however, also a big fan of printed matter, of proper books with paper pages that can you can flick through over morning coffee. Books that will spend an evening with you on the sofa, lodge by your bedside or cheer up a good friend.

With this in mind, I'm really excited to announce the publication of DRAWN TO THE COUNTRY.

Arranged seasonally, over 128 pages, the book takes you through the delights and challenges of a year in the Suffolk countryside... You'll hear about my gardening exploits, be introduced to my chickens, meet some extraordinary Suffolk characters and take some day trips to the coast and beyond!  

"Mary has beautifully captured the unique character of my home county Suffolk in this delightful book." 

Paula Pryke OBE, Florist

For more info, and how to purchase, please visit www.conkerpress.com

Road closed

It has been positively Mediterranean in Suffolk this week.

I have not minded the odd imposed detour on my travels. 

All the better for soaking up the glittering landscape.

“Roadworks” in Suffolk often means that a three kilometre stretch of road is completely barred to 
traffic for a week to enable the methodical filling of a few potholes. 

The upside is that I had to take a diversion on the way to the gym yesterday. 

I discovered a winding lane fringed with barley, ears bent to the tune of the breeze 

and gleaming in the sun on the cusp of the hill.

Welcome to the cow shed

One of the drawbacks of living in the country is getting from a to b. Scant public transport and winding roads can mean a lot of time spent behind the wheel. But I treat this as an opportunity to revel in extraordinary skies, keep abreast of crop rotation and appreciate the richness of East Anglian architecture.

Time permitting, I would also mention that there are glorious surprises in store if one takes a spontaneous trip down a stony drive to investigate one of the many chalked up roadside placards. Sunday was no exception. I had completed my parental taxi duty and it was such lovely evening I decided to take the circuitous route home. I was soaking up the beautiful mackerel sky when I saw a sign that said ‘raw milk fourth left’.

Irresistible. 

It was a long drive.

Keep a troshing??

Norfolk dialect for carry on with the threshing, roughly translated as keep going! I think. 

Anyhow, I kept going. 

Past lawns peppered with geese and peacocks.

To a little wooden shed, with a fridge, an honesty box, and deliciously creamy raw milk, 

straight from the udders of six beloved Jersey cows named after Goddesses.

Yes, I’ll be volunteering for that taxi run every time!

Keep up with the developments @Old Hall Farm, Woodton, on social media, 

there are plans afoot for more local produce in a bigger shed! 

April

No matter how long the winter, Spring is sure to follow. 

Proverb

The lanes speak for themselves, 

The tenebrous shroud of winter is pierced by blackthorn blossom. 

Green seeps quietly into the thicket while yellow screeches from the horizon. 

I simply watch and wait, 

in wonder.

Welcome to the wild flowers

"Nothing is a better lesson in the knowledge of plants than to sit down in front of them, handle them and look them over just as carefully as possible; and in no way can each study be more pleasantly or conveniently carried on than by taking a light seat to the rock-wall and giving plenty of time to each kind of little plant, examining it closely and asking oneself, and it, why this and why that." Gertrude Jekyll

In my previous post on weeds, I was perhaps a bit harsh in my condemnation, coloured by a long day of filling my barrow with unwanted vegetation. A weed is, after all, merely a wild flower in the wrong place. 

There are plenty of wild flowers that unbidden weave their seductive charm through my garden and I cherish them for that. 
I promise they won't end up in my barrow... unless they get too unruly!

Wonderful weeds

"Weeding is a delightful occupation, especially after summer rain, when the roots come up clear and clean. One gets to know how many and various are the ways of weeds - as many almost as the moods of human creatures. How easy and pleasant to pull up are the soft annuals like Chickweed and Groundsel, and how one looks with respect at deep-rooted things like Docks, that make one go and fetch a spade." 

Gertrude Jekyll

Sadly, I barely had to venture further than a few yards from my back door to gather this assortment of weeds. I would have preferred to boast that I had to search high and low and long and hard to find them. 

Jekyll is right, they are many and various.... and fascinating to observe closely. So many different leaf shapes and growth habits. 

How wonderful is our native British flora... just not in my flower border please! 

The vagaries of March

"It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: 

when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade." 

Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

....summmery enough for me to skip round the garden to see what's in bloom!

Man with a van...

Someone's pleased it's pancake day!

Hedgerow adagio

Colour is slowly being wrung from the hedgerows.

As the summer greens fade, coral and carmine briefly dazzle,

then slip in tatters.

Discarded pantomime costumes.

Leaving winter sketched on the horizon.

October treasures

“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.” Henry David Thoreau

 

Idyllic rural retreat for mini-breaks or long term let

Along the lane

The countryside never stands still.
Straw bales have been collected up and loom in great stacks, leaving bleached stubble scrawled across the page.
Ancient hedge boundaries define the landscape, shadowy contours dividing the fields, like the well worn folds of a cherished letter.
Then the plough cuts deep, unfolding a veneer of mahogany and teak.
Resplendent in the pink tinged afternoon light. 

 

Late August

 Morning,

noon, 

and night.

The combine's hum,

draws the harvest home.

Fish on the menu

"Summer cooking implies a sense of immediacy, a capacity to capture the essence of the fleeting moment." 
Elizabeth David

Pop to Aldeburgh first thing in the morning and you’ll see damp fishing boats parked on the pebbly beach next to small black huts advertising the day’s catch. Almost still flapping, silvery skins glistening you literally “won’t find anything fresher”, to borrow a chalked up phrase.

 Know your fishes...

"Plaice, sole and haddock join the crustacea as some of the month's best eating. Sea bass is a rare delicacy, steamed whole for a surprisingly short time." Jeremy Round

High summer

Been catching each of my new roses as they come into bloom. I will treasure 2016 as the summer of anticipation… especially for the one mystery rose that got separated from its label… really had to restrain myself from prising open a bud!

Just space on the page left for Madame Alfred Carriere which has kindly waited until my return from holiday.

Clockwise from top, Rosa pomifera, Rose de Rescht, Gertrude Jeykll, Buff Beauty, Rhapsody in Blue, Tuscany superb.

Suffolk skies

With Wimbledon fortnight well under way, what better excuse to relax and enjoy some changeable weather!

Fleeting flowers

After days of heavy showers, I’m resigned that my irises are over for another year. They do not die gracefully. Rather than scattering faded petals on the whim of the breeze, each bloom coils into a slimy knot and then slowly atrophies. I will enjoy tidying up the spent stalks. 

A couple of weeks ago, while they still looked good I spent a glorious day painting outside... and I wasn’t the only one enjoying the warmth of summer on my back. 
Nearby, the chickens were so spreadeagled in the sun they looked as though they had been spatchcocked ready for the barbecue. Wings fanned and bodies sprawled, the only clue they were still alive was the sound of gentle communal purring. 

Now that’s what I call happy hens!

May

May has been a month chock-full of blossom. 
First blackthorn in the hedgerows, pure white, starry clusters. 

Then the orchard fruits. Unashamedly frilly cherry, plum, pink flushed apple and delicate pear. 

Candy stripe buds on the quince uncoil with poise while the deep crimson crab-apple buds rush onto the stage with pantomime exuberance.

Horse chestnuts burst into leaf at an alarming rate and then throw out a spectacular firework display, which for a few glorious days is suspended mid explosion. Meanwhile hawthorn and honeysuckle weave their way nonchalantly along the lanes.

I have loved May.

Country pursuits

The other week I stopped to admire the knapped flint tower of a local country church. 

From where I stood between a row of craggy tree trunks I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to hear the hollow drumbeat of a woodpecker echoing around the churchyard. 

In fact, as I circled the church I felt sure I could detect a rhythmic tap. But it had an unusual muffled quality, which ruled out the woodpecker, and anyway it appeared to be seeping out of an inauspicious village hall across the road.

Mystery solved as I pressed my nose to the window. I had stumbled across a weekly Wednesday morning orchestra rehearsal. The players were chomping their way through Beethoven’s ninth with palpable application, and due consideration for arthritic fingers. 

The tap I had heard earlier was from the resonating skins of a pair of shiny kettle drums.

The timpanist stored her spare drumsticks in a vast wicker basket…. now that’s very country!  

And I've a sneaking suspicion there was room in that basket for some foraged wild garlic on her way home too!

May

“A flower blossoms for its own joy” Oscar Wilde

May, prime time for fussing and fiddling in the greenhouse. 
Maize peeping through, too early to plant out the beans, tomato side shoots need pinching out. 
Not to mention a good deal of primping and propping in the garden, sweet peas need wigwams, peonies.. supports, dahlias.. stakes. 

Regardless of my efforts the wild flowers are just quietly getting on with it.