Sound and Colour

My troublesome lumbar discs have been troublesome of late, hence my absence from Blogland last week.  I could barely walk properly, let alone sit down and type.  

Whilst swimming is usually the exercise of choice for loosening muscles, I took, what turned out to be a misguided trip to the pool.  Although my swim initially alleviated symptoms, they were back with a vengeance later that day and that evening, I found I was unable to turn over in bed without excruciating pain.  Ice packs and anti inflammatory tablets were the order of the day, accompanied by copious amounts of chuntering.  I even purchased one of those support belts, but eventually saw the light and brought forward my monthly tune up with Nigel the Chiropractor.  

On the walk down, I marvelled at the Cherry Blossom.  Call me a Diva, but I would like to walk everywhere, always, on a carpet of pink petals.

I'm still a little stiff, but the painful spasms have subsided enough for me to sit down for a type and a chat.  In terms of swimming, with lower disc problems, the choices appear to be breast stroke with front crawl leg kicks (although coming up for air can result in lower back pressure) or back stroke.  In the meantime, walking never hurt anyone!  We all know boots are made for walking and there's a stonking pair coming up shortly.

So what have I been up to since my last post?  Well, the teen of the house had a party during the last weekend of the Easter holidays and we were banished to the bedroom.  We would have gone out for the evening, but Gareth was in the throes of the dreaded lurgy I had magnanimously shared with him.  So, after an evening stroll, we snuck in through the front door, greeted a gaggle of girls in the hallway with the words: "You haven't seen us!" and promptly disappeared upstairs with a bottle of wine.  We left them variously gathered around the partially completed fire pit area (formerly dominated by a bramble entangled trampoline) and spilling into the house.

My memories of the past couple of weeks are sketchy to say the least.  There has been a great deal of admin and the kind of mundane day to day activities that I pretend not to participate in for the purposes of an entertaining blog.  

I took a few woodland-in-spring shots.  Pictured here are the highly invasive Spanish Bluebells....

....although we do have some native Bluebells dotted here and there.

Forget-me-nots.

Tree shadow puppetry.

Look!  Not one, but two Buzzards!

Other snapshots from this period include a flock of homing pigeons circling over some local rooftops.  

Last Saturday, I played second shooter at a local wedding, although my back was groaning after a short drive to an area of bluebells to capture the happy couple in all of nature's glory.  Still, it was a small price to pay for such a stunning scene.   Here are just a few shots from the happy occasion...

...and an experimental "colour wash" photo (I was probably high on painkillers at the time, but quite like the result).

It does seem a crime to do black and white edits of such vibrant spring colours, but I can't resist the drama.  What do you think?

When I returned home, Gareth surprised me with this pair of Loblan cowboy boots I had been eyeing up for ages.  The company was formed in 1959 and has carved out a reputation for quality raw materials and painstaking workmanship.  Priced steeply at £65.00 (second hand), I decided to monitor the situation periodically in the hope that they would reduce the price.  Finally, they had were reduced to half price and Gareth snapped them up.  They are a size 5 and I'm a 6, so I'm hoping they will fit.  In my decrepit state and with Gareth's assistance, I managed to get one boot on, which felt OK, but I will wait until I'm fully recovered before trying to wrestle these beauties on for a proper outing.

I also bagged a world famous 1970s Dartmouth Pottery Gurgle Fish Jug for £2.50 on the way back from having my back tuned.  It has taken pride of place in the upstairs bathroom in front of one of our old stained glass windows and does indeed gurgle, when water is poured from its gaping mouth.

As for the garden, spring is where it's at here at "Aifa".  Did I ever mention, we named our house after a woodland spirit?  I read years ago that Aifa was a woodland spirit.  Unfortunately, I can't for the life of me remember where I read this or now find any source to back it up, so you'll have to take my word for it.  Gareth made the sign which still hangs outside our front door.  I later discovered that AIFA also stands for the Association of Independent Financial Advisors and so, whilst the sign still hangs proudly, we don't tend to use it.  Thankfully, no one has yet come knocking, asking for mortgage advice.

As you can see, the wisteria is just starting to flower.  It's our one big gardening success story and we quite often have cars stopping to look at it during its fleeting performance.

Here's a sneak peak.

In other news, our new bird feeder hasn't deterred Squirrel Nutkins, caught in the act yesterday.

Lotte the cat also committed the ultimate cat crime by catching - and losing - a mouse inside the house.  When Lotte first decided she was going to live here, she would come in through the bedroom window (I like sleeping with the window open).  This arrangement shows no sign of changing and in the dead of night a few nights ago, we heard her come in through the window and announce her arrival, very loudly, all the way down the stairs (a sure sign she has brought us a gift).  For anyone wondering, we do have a cat flap, but it's programmed with the microchip number of our previous cat, Mowzer. We both instinctively know that it would be futile to try and remedy this situation and train Lotte to use it.  She lives by her own rules!  Look at her!  She has no shame!  

There has been less gardening, more pottering this week, with Gareth also seeking chiropractic torture for a neck and shoulder issue.  I say torture, because he was subjected to acupuncture, a knee in the back and a discombobulating neck manoeuvre.  

Still, it's clear that spring is officially early this year.  Everything is daring to bloom...from the raspberry ripple tinted tulips (yet again, I have forgotten which varieties I planted),  

to the bursting buds of Mexican Fleabane, ready to spill out of the chimney pots once again.

More Forget Me Nots (or Birds' Eyes) - no doubt deposited by their namesake.   I don't mind.  

They have even taken up residence in the herb planted wheelbarrow, 

which is also playing host to this little arachnid.

In the pond, the Marsh Marigold is vying for attention with the water lily...

..and the tadpoles (trust me, there are more than two!)

Leading up to the pond, you can see my tree peony in the foreground (bottom left).  It's alive and kicking but no sign of any flowers yet.  It's only in its second season, so I need to be patient.

These native British grasses I planted in the rockery around the steep bank at the rear of the pond recently, catch the light beautifully.

In fact, the light this morning was exquisite.  I do love a bit of bokeh!

To finish off, I'll leave you with some sound, colour and light play, captured on a recent walk along the canal and shared as an Instagram reel.  

 https://www.instagram.com/reel/CcabSHwD9WJ/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Speak soon!

Rule of Five: Gardening by Narrowboat Signs

 According to my Almanac's month-by-month instructions for gardening by the moon, the remainder of April in the garden should unfold as follows:-

1st quarter to full moon: 20th -27th April:  Sow crops that develop above ground.  Plant seedlings and young plants.

Whilst I have the greatest respect for people who grow their own vegetables, I have yet to develop that level of devotion to the soil.  Our neighbour who, like the Duke of Edinburgh, died just short of his 100th birthday, maintained a typical post-war garden and was the first to admit that his successes were more than matched by his failures.  As I recall, in spite of his sunnier garden, the main crops he harvested were runner beans (can't stand them), rhubarb and potatoes.  The one good tip he gave us, which worked, was to bury a couple of sprouting potatoes in a bag of compost and let nature take its course.  

Our garden is best described as "established;" shaded by many tall trees, excluding the woodland.  Suitable positions for a greenhouse are non-existent and I can't face investing so much time and effort into growing my own, only to be rewarded by a handful of salad once a month.  Last year we attempted to join in with the first lockdown trend of growing our own and whilst our tomato plant looked and smelled incredible, providing an impressive bounty of tomatoes, they were disappointing in texture.  Similarly, our coriander could not grow fast enough to match our demand.  The edible flowers were enjoyed by the slugs and the rainbow chard never appeared.  What we do have are ageing apple trees (one still yields good cookers), plum trees, a raspberry bush, black, red and white currant bushes and, save for a planned herb area, that will have to do.   We're leaving it to the experts this year and concentrating on other projects.

So this month, instead of gardening by the moon, I have been guided by the narrowboats (bear with me).  I've recently become a little bit obsessed with narrowboats and I particularly love narrowboat signwriting.  

I've started a photographic record of my favourites (just for my own personal amusement), but amongst the limited number I have so far, parallels can be drawn between five of the signs and what has been occurring in the garden.  Warning:  Some are quite tenuous.

Jack Frost visited every morning last week.

A couple of times, I broke ice on the surface of the bird bath and the recently filled pond so that the blackbirds could have their morning bath.  

We've been impatiently waiting to plant some marginals and for signs of life to start emerging.

Vitre, from the old French word, meaning "pane of glass" is pretty apt.  In a previous blog post, I mentioned our collection of old glass blocks.  Gareth also skip dived for a couple of stained glass cupboard doors (the glass being the attraction).  Put the two together, loosely assembled, and we have a makeshift cold frame!

Inside, we've been keeping young cosmos and delicate marginal pond plants until the threat of frosts has passed.  I will add my Hollyhock seedlings when ready, to acclimatise them.

A few days ago, we decided to go for it.  The cosmos are now planted up in a Belfast sink.

The pond is gradually taking shape.  We've used the pebbles I had collected from digging in the garden (plus a few larger ones acquired from a ploughed field next to the woods) and created a beach area around the shallow area of the pond for easy wildlife access.

The logs are principally there to disguise the pond liner.  We're working with what we have.  This area was originally home to a Gunnera Manicata, but that didn't survive the winter and a replacement now resides in our kitchen, awaiting planting.  The plan is to plant behind and around the pond area with a few evergreen ferns and to add a some strategically placed larger boulders, so that over time, we can lose some of the wood and have a softer, more natural look.

We have some marginal pond plants; bulrush, iris, water mint, marsh marigold, water figwort and ragged robin, plus water violets and Myriophyllum crispata (upright water milfoil) for oxygenation.  

At last, just in time for the end of the school Easter holidays, the temperature hit double figures and the first tulips are flowering!

Finally, I was able to don my Kinky Melon kaftan (thanks Vix) and enjoy quality time in the garden.  Excuse the dirty feet!  

We had the first BBQ of the year....our own rule of five.  The three of us, plus my Mom and Gareth's Dad.

Mom, sampling the first sausage, bathed in BBQ smoke-diffused sunlight

My father-in-law and BBQ King

       (Top BBQ tip:  Beans and fried onions combined).

I pottered and photographed insects (I'm surprisingly OK with them when we're separated by a camera).

And yesterday provided another cause for celebration, when we spotted our first visitor to the pond.  No, not Lotte the cat, who now refuses to drink from any other vessel...

...but a pond skater!  Apparently, pond skaters and water boatmen are usually the first to move in.  We're hoping more will follow. 

Happiness can be found in the most unlikely places - which leads me to mention the late and already greatly missed Helen McCrory.  I was moved to tears by her husband Damian's tribute, published in The Sunday Times.  She was such a great role model for women.  One thing in particular resonated with me.  

"Some people believe happiness is a right, some people find happiness difficult.  Helen believed you choose happiness."

Have a good week!