Spring has sprung

Wheeling barrow loads of compost the length and breadth of the garden could quickly become tedious and back breaking but with the right attitude and consistently deep knee bends, the monotony is soon eclipsed by the reviving breath of spring...

Past the pond fringed with downy willow buds, duck under the bean tree avoiding trampling the primroses, good time to transplant snowdrops, hug the perimeter of the chicken pen... pause for a quick chat and egg count. The fluffy bantam has surprised us all by coming in to lay again. At eight years old I really didn’t think she had much life left in her. Cross the flagstones, carefully, patches are slippery, hmm, the tulips have been nibbled by deer or rabbits but the irises are looking good, mental note to move the chrysanthemums and to sow stubby rather than elegantly pointed parsnips which never emerge intact from our clay soil… 

And so the narrative grows with each gladly shovelled load. 

Portobello Road

“Portobello road, Portobello road

Street where the riches of ages are stowed.

Anything and everything a chap can unload

Is sold off the barrow in Portobello road.

You’ll find what you want in the Portobello road.”

(Chorus from the 1971 film, 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks'... the magical saving grace of a wet camping holiday in Wales)

This week I found what I wanted... in the Portobello Road. 

Not off a barrow but in ‘The Cloth Shop’

A tiny Aladdin’s cave

with staff happy to help

and stuffed to the gunnels with irresistible warps and wefts.

Three meters of embroidered trim was a modest purchase but means that I can finish off one of my many unfinished projects.

I’ll tell you about it when it’s done!

Loving my loppers

"People love chopping wood. 
In this activity one immediately sees results". Albert Einstein

Pea sticks from prunings and seed pots from the weekend papers, that's a pretty good result. With a truck load of mushroom compost arriving tomorrow I'll be getting a decent wheel barrow workout at the weekend. The immediate result of this particular activity will be exhaustion... but I'll be reaping the rewards all summer!

Celebrating

Yesterday it was my husband’s birthday. 

It was crisp and sunny and the sky was an almost mediterranean blue so we decided to take a promenade around a local estate that we hadn’t visited before. 

Ickworth House is a rather grand Georgian Italianate folly, neatly bordered by formal gardens yet nestled in the Suffolk countryside. Snowdrops, narcissi and bouncing, new born lambs rub shoulders with clipped hedges sweeping paths and sunken lawns. 

We were mostly in the company of a few eighty year old daughters taking out their hundred year old mothers... so it was a serene and unhurried morning. Only when a troupe of purposeful Nordic walkers breezed past, poles swishing in the spring sunshine, did we have to watch our ankles.

It’s always good to visit other people's gardens, it makes you look at your own from a new perspective. While I wouldn’t aim for quite such a manicured look in our own garden, (and certainly have no chance of achieving it), I did come home resolved to coppice our unruly hazel and tame a couple of Phyllirea angustifolia… the big round blobs in the photo above.

Below the house stands the immaculate St Mary’s church and beyond that, completely hidden on a south facing slope the jewel in the crown as far as I’m concerned. Like all competitive gardeners I felt a rush of blood as I went through the door into the walled kitchen garden. 

"There was a big population up at the house, 14 kitchen maids, 14 scullery maids, scores of girls up there. We used to feed all them, West Suffolk Hospital, the chauffeur, the keepers, head keeper… we used to feed all them from that garden." Ken Saddler, Head Gardener, 1930

Standing in the lea of the ten foot high, red brick perimeter wall I longed to see that garden as it would have been three hundred years ago. It pre-dates the main house by a hundred years and was thought to have served a manor house, now destroyed, that stood behind the church.

Sadly, it’s now largely given over to a wild flower meadow which is obviously at its shaggy worst at this time of year. The sunken heated pineapple house is dilapidated and the glasshouses that remain from an original eight are crumbling. Happily a group of volunteers and the local school do keep a couple of traditional veg plots going though. 

Hmm, very neatly tilled soil... some winter brassicas and signs of garlic and beans. I can’t even compete on account of all the perennial weeds criss-crossing my patch. Although despite the weeds I too have new garlic shoots, handsome broad beans, broccoli, leeks, cabbage... so maybe we have a draw!

What really enchanted me was this little ‘bothy’ built into the wall at the top corner of the garden. The head gardener would have lived in a larger cottage at the opposite corner, so I like to imagine this might have been for the guy who had to rise at dawn to keep the boiler stoked to heat the pineapple house. 

Alas, these days, where’s the poetry in slinging a pineapple in the trolley at the supermarket! 

Out and about

Once upon a time I went on the train to London.  

I sat near a man in a nice stripy shirt. 

Mr. Busy, he had lots of important papers and a cheese sandwich.

This boy looked a bit thoughtful, 

as though his jumper was flecked by a skein of melancholy.

On the way home, a hairdresser embarked carrying a toolbox rattling with combs and scissors. 

He also had a large McDonald’s bag. 

He didn’t notice I was sketching him while he ate three burgers, fries and ice cream. 

He must have had an exhausting day!

So, watch out if you ever sit opposite me on the train….

….especially if you're having forty winks!

101 practical ways with an airing cupboard

Winter-weather and women’s thoughts often change. English proverb

February, such an unpredictable month but Valentine’s day is, weather depending, often my trigger to fall back in love with the soil. 

A few days ago it was warm enough to garden in a thin jumper and eat soup on a sunny bench. I heaped fresh compost onto the rhubarb crowns, dug out barrow loads of unwelcome self-seeded Brunnera plants and thought about replacing a crumbling fence with a Rosa rugosa hedge. 

The previous week I hadn’t been the slightest bit tempted to even set foot outside. After a particularly turbulent afternoon I did check that the netting swaddling my broccoli was intact and that my autumn sown broad beans had not been uprooted but then only tarried just long enough to prise a few frozen sprouts off their stalks and grab a bunch of snowdrops for the kitchen windowsill. 

Whatever the weather, it’s time to start sowing some early seeds, tomato, pepper, cucumber and salad, which means time to reorganise the airing cupboard. 

The airing cupboard? 

Now that sounds like a nice, warm activity for the time of year! 

I now have one shelf reserved as a propagator, another for proving my sourdough, the cat has commandeered the blankets and if we're lucky there might be room for damp towels! 

A Hint of Romance

As we coast along towards Valentine’s day here’s a couple of recent sketches. 

Spot the romantic details! 

Remembering

“As long as this exists, how can I be sad.” Anne Frank

A diary entry about a single chestnut tree that Anne could see from an attic window while she was in hiding.

I haven’t counted the numbers of trees I can see from my studio window but I appreciate every unique twig and even more so when I think about Anne Frank’s unreservedly thankful attitude.

Morning treat

This morning at breakfast I celebrated the fact that Doris has started to lay again! 

Winter can be lean time for eggs.
Doris had taken some time out over Christmas to reorganise her feathers.
Hulanicki is still too busy fussing over her spring wardrobe to even think about resuming production. 

Peggy MBE, my rescue chicken, however has a tremendous work ethic and has been laying all winter. 

So, two eggs a day now and I’m hoping that will soon increase to four.

I don’t think you’ve met my youngest. She’s a Vorwerk hen; a breed that originates in Germany (and coincidentally shares its name with a company that produces vacuum cleaners!).

Her given name is ‘Berlin-da’ to remind me of a memorable trip to the city last year. 
And of all my fowl I think she is the one, like dog owners who resemble their dogs, that I have an affinity with. She’s a neat brown bird with a black head and tail... and we converse in German. Take note, regularly speaking more than one language can apparently delay the onset of Alzheimers by up to five years. There is method in my madness!

Back to my egg... which features in the current Waitrose magazine. Over the last few months I’ve enjoyed illustrating some cooking themed snippets, like making dried apple rings and almond milk and, shhhh, how to spatchcock a chicken. 

Luckily for Berlin-da I don’t know the german for ‘spatchcock’!

A Guided Tour

I thought the new year would be a good time to take you for an unhurried stroll around my local market town. The impressive church dates from 1470, there’s a “butcher, a baker and a candlestick maker”, fish on Fridays and early closing on Tuesdays! 

It’s a wibbly-wobbly kind of place with many of its ancient and creaking buildings testament to the fifteenth century when East Anglia was, second to London, the wealthiest and most densely populated area of England! 

The narrow streets are a medley of tilting lintels and lopsided gables. Tipping facades are painted in elephant, caramel, turkish delight, turmeric, vellum, and candy floss.

When we arrived ten years ago cappuccino had not been added to the Suffolk dictionary. Now we have a heady choice of four locations to enjoy a decent coffee, and even better, if you’re around for the Wednesday morning market you can buy locally roasted beans that make the best coffee ever. 

Well, in 2015 it's a far cry from London and that’s the way we like it!

2015

Phew, that was a narrow escape. Mrs Mallard and I dread the festive season. 

All that roast turkey, stuffed goose and potted pheasant. Even Mary’s cats were dining on moorhen yesterday!

So with great relief and on behalf of Mary, we’d like to wish you all a very Happy New Year!