Off to Pastures New .....

Before we leave here for a few weeks’ absence in Australia, I feel I must just make a few notes about the garden, so that I can contrast and compare when we return home.

We have had several days of warm sunshine and blue skies – perfect for the Easter break – and spring has well and truly arrived in the garden. The magnolia has been full of flowers in spite of John cutting it well back last autumn as it was encroaching on the variegated holly beside it. The warm yellow of this bush always looks cheery when viewed from indoors on dull winter days, so we didn’t want it to be overwhelmed. Now that the magnolia is ‘going over’ the flowering cherry on the other side of it, by the front gate is just breaking into blossom – sadly we won’t be here to enjoy it in its full glory. Still we have had an abundance of forsythia, creating a sunshine screen along the side fence for quite a while, and now as it is dying off lots of bright green leaves are sprouting everywhere, so that very soon we will once again be fully screened from our neighbours.

Both gardens, back and front, are covered with forget-me-nots which I love because they so remind me of my Nannie who was very fond of them. Bluebells are coming into bloom all over the garden, except that none of them are actually blue, but a pretty shade of lavender. Primroses and primula abound, and we are delighted with our tulips, which were bought at knock down prices late last autumn.

Our bugbear are the dandelions! It seems to be a VERY good year for them, as they are growing profusely along the hedgerows, by the sides of roads, on roundabouts…… and in our lawns! John spent a lot of time last year carefully spraying poison on them, but this past week we have great splashes of bright yellow all over the lawn. We enjoy seeing them en-masse out in the countryside, but NOT in our garden, so John spent much of Easter Monday bent over each individual dandelion carefully digging it up, and then spraying the roots. So now there isn’t a speck of yellow to be seen in the grass ….for the time being …. and John’s back is slightly the worse for wear.

My purple sprouting broccoli plants have so far yielded up enough for four delicious meals, in spite of their distinct lack of size. They were held back by the cosmos plants my mother gave me, which grew to giant proportions and lasted far longer than I had expected, hiding the young broccoli plants from the light There look to be lots more ‘pickings’ on them, but sadly we won’t be here to enjoy them. In fact we will miss quite a lot of things in the garden – the peonies have big fat buds, about to burst, and the clematis is all set to flower. The little lilac plant my old schoolfriend gave me from her garden just before she moved after the sudden death of her husband, has this year got blossom forming for the first time – but I think I might miss that too.

One of the nicest things about this time of year is seeing all the trees and bushes turning green. All along the side of the field is a mass of misty soft green, and the two trees by the rhyne across from my studio window are also just beginning to show tinges of leafy life – they are always the first to lose their leaves in the autumn, and the last to splutter back into life. Even the old apple trees has little sprigs of fresh green leaves appearing along the gnarled old branches – but no sign of blossom yet. Something else we will miss whilst we’re away no doubt.

The robin who built a nest in our box hedge seems to have reared its young – we have seen a lot of activity with two robins dashing back and forth between the nest and the feeders hanging in the apple tree, and I have seen them with offspring. I took a look in the hedge today, for the first time, and saw the nest empty nest – I do hope all is well.

So far no cattle have arrived in the field beyond the rhyne, but looking at notes I made last year, they appeared on 29th April, so perhaps when we return we shall have some mobile scenery to gaze at out there. We have however, been interested to watch most mornings as we sip early morning tea in bed, or breakfast in the garden room, two people in the far field regularly walking a collection of dogs – who scamper madly about in what must be doggy paradise – AND two sheep, which always lumber along beside the the walkers. It is a curious sight, but the sheep don’t seem at all bothered by the excited dogs, so must be pets who are quite used to their un-woolly chums.

Well, the lawns were mowed yesterday, and all the flower beds were de-weeded and generally tidied up, so for now the garden looks extremely attractive and well-cared for……but we know of course that by the time we get back it will be a jungle once more, and will require a lot of attention. Still, what care we – we are going to be spending a happy time with our daughter and family on the other side of the world, and can’t wait to get there. They have only been gone since last July, but it seems a lifetime already, so we will leave this little piece of Somerset to get on by itself, and look forward to seeing what it has been up to when we get back.

SENIOR MOMENTS.

This bit of Pot Pourri is OUTSIDE a Somerset garden, but I have just had the most amazing few days, thanks to our kids.

On Friday evening John and I went over to the LIGHTS Theatre in Andover where Kim’s choir were doing a Concert. A group of about 20 adults – The Andover Museum Loft Singers – gave us such a great evening, singing folk songs old and new.in sweet-sounding harmony. They, and their two Conductors, were so enthusiastic and so obviously enjoyed their singing, that it was impossible not to delight in it too. Added to the mix, the Conductor and another guy – forming Belshazzar's Feast – played fabulous music together on flute, electric violin, and accordian, intermingled with a seemingly off-the-cuff comedy routine which had us roaring with laughter. Such great entertainment, and as parents we loved seeing our daughter perform. No matter what their age, we parents just burst with pride watching our progeny doing their stuff!

Then next day we were all at Thruxton Circuit where Kim and her family had booked me a Supercar Heaven Experience for my 70th birthday present. I had during the previous months been rather terrified about it all, but on the warm sunny day, with lots of family around, I felt really excited. After three laps in a saloon car with an instructor and two male students like myself being shown the track, and being fitted with a crash helmet, I was given one of the 9 gleaming red Porsche Cayman’s lined up in the pit. I moved nervously out on to the track, more worried about steering between the cones than thinking of my driving – ‘ you can move into second you know’ my Instructor murmured kindly. Knowing my great age he no doubt rather expected this old lady to take it all pretty carefully! However, once out on the track I really loved the feel of the car and went for it. As I drove out of one particular long corner (Church) for the first time, my Instructor actually gasped ‘That’s the best I’ve seen that driven all day!’ – I couldn’t have been more thrilled and drove with new found confidence . The chicane was my biggest challenge – I always came into it too fast and couldn’t then drive the necessary ‘line’ , but when we got back in the pits after 3 gloriously exhilerating laps, the Instructor beamed at me and asked what speed I thought I was doing out there and coming into some of the corners. ’40 – 60mph’ I replied ….. ‘in first or second maybe’ he spluttered. ‘ I watched the clock – you were doing 100 mph – better than some of the men’





So I trotted off well pleased with myself to experience the truly beauteous Aston Martin V8 Vantage – silky-grey with a black soft top – magnificent! I will NEVER forget the buzz I got when, having turned the key, I pressed the button and the engine roared into life. Hells Bells! However, this was quite a different beast, for it had no clutch or gear stick, just little metal levers on either side of the small steering wheel to move up and down the gears. Thus, when the Instructor told me to ‘Brake. Change Down’ there was a split second when I thought - ‘which lever is that?’ – and at those speeds there isn’t really time to think, just act. Still, it being my one chance to drive an Aston, on the last lap I really just put my foot right down, passed various Porsches and others seeming to dawdle round the track, and bubbled with excitement. I even managed to master the chicane the last time round, so came back into the pits to park the magnificent creature feeling on top of the world, and ended up with a 79% pass mark on my Certidicate, which I felt was pretty damn good. ...considering.



It was great having family there – John took a video, Martin took masses of photos which he’s making into an album, and Jon bought a couple of the official photos actually taken out on the track. To my delight you can see a huge smile on my face, though I was totally unaware of cameras. Afterwards Jon cracked champagne to celebrate and Kim produced a superb baked salmon evening meal for us all. We finished the evening watching a re-run of the Grand National to see which of us had won the Sweepstake (Martin)

Thankyou Kim and Martin for making me FEEL young again!

As if all this wasn’t enough, I had one more big treat in store. Jenny had booked me an Indian Head Massage and Spa session at Monty’s at Charlton House Hotel as a Mothers Day present. The roads over the Mendips are wonderful to drive on a good day, and I was in luck – scarcely a car to be seen, so I enjoyed driving my little red Jazz as fast as is legal, being familiar with every twist and turn of the road. It was lovely – but made me realise JUST how much faster I got to drive round the Thruxton Circuit.

I utterly adored the Indian Head Massage, which was THE most gorgeously relaxing experience. Luckily the therapist was behind me all the while, for I can imagine my face in freefall was not a pretty sight. But such bliss. Afterwards I was able to pop in and out of the various spa ‘rooms’ - be pummelled and soaked in the deliciously warm pool – and flop in my cosy bathrobe on comfortable sofas to read my book. All this on a Monday morning – such decadence.

Thankyou Jenny and Alasdair for helping me LOOK, if just for a short while, a bit younger again.

For anyone who imagines that at 70 life as you know it comes to an end……. I’m here to say that I find mine gets better and better., thanks to such a kind and thoughtful family. I really do appreciate that I’m a very lucky old(ish) lady indeed!

RE-NEIGHSSANCE

‘News of my demise is a little premature’ – or words to that effect – were famously pronounced when someone saw his own Obituary in the Times.

These words sprang to mind immediately when yesterday, looking up from washing the dishes I saw dear old Butch, ‘our’ late-lamented ageing horse meander into view in the paddock below. ‘Oh Wow!’ I screamed - being by myself there was no one to hear, or watch as I dashed outside to take a closer look. I couldn’t believe my eyes, as Butch hasn’t made an appearance since the beginning of the year, and we had mourned his passing. I ran back indoors exultant, singing unaccountably at the top of my voice – ‘Horsey, Horsey, don’t you stop’. But when I looked back out of the window Butch was gone.

He didn’t appear again all morning, nor whilst we were having lunch. Even as I described to John my huge delight at having seen the missing nag once more, I began to wonder if it had all been a dream, or a mirage? It had been one of those hazy sunlit mornings, when everything takes on a sort of ethereal appearance, and though I looked over the hedge into his field several times there was no sign of him anywhere.

Easter might still be a couple of weeks’ away, but we have already had a Second-Coming here in our little bit of this green and pleasant land. As we sat enjoying an after-lunch coffee in the warm sunshine on our balcony, Butch hove into view. He sauntered about looking full of vigor and very spruce - in fact his fettle was very fine indeed - whilst we two, with silly smiles on our faces, were contentedly aware what pleasure is to be found in life’s unexpected little happenings.

DELIVERING THE MINUTES

The other morning I did my regular walk around and beyond the village delivering the Minutes of our Memorial Hall Management Committee of which I am Secretary. This is always a particular pleasure, as it gives me the opportunity of seeing how the changing seasons leave their mark on the set path I always follow.

The lanes I walk have no pavements, so I cross and re-cross the road, trying to keep clear of oncoming traffic. The few vehicles I encounter always give me a wide berth, and there’s nearly always a cheery wave from the driver and passengers.

This particular morning it was dry and cloudy, but everywhere I went there were daffodils in abundance, which could not fail to brighten my spirits. I passed a field of damp stubble which did look very melancholy, till I spotted a couple of clumps of old fashioned large-trumpeted daffodils shimmering down by the perimeter fence, and somehow these gave me more pleasure than all the others growing in beautifully tended front gardens. Just like life, I suppose, we need to experience the bad before we can really appreciate the good.





Someone has planted a sprinkling of daffodils in the grass alongside the old Victorian letter box set in an old stone wall. In the summer red poppies spiced up the roadside there, colour co-ordinating with the cheerful red paint.

Iwas surprised at how much was in bloom so soon after such a bad winter. Mauvey-purple aubretia festooned low stone garden walls, delicious buttery masses of primroses nestled under old bare trees, some tulips were just beginning to reveal their pinkness in a couple of garden tubs, and tiny tete-a-tete daffodils were everywhere – especially effective planted between clumps of low-growing purple heathers.

The hills which rise steeply behind the little groups of cottages along the way, and slope upwards beyond the fields on one side of the lane, took on a very contemplative appearance that morning. A few days earlier, when I had trodden the same path delivering the Agendas, the sun had been shining, and the hillsides were a patchwork of light and shade, ever changing.

But where were the six Jacob’s sheep which I always stop to admire? One time when I was passing, their owners were busy cutting their ‘toenails’, so I stopped for a chat and learnt that these beautiful creatures are kept as pets, and are sometimes taken back to their home to be petted and enjoyed by the family. These six all have names, and have scrumptious brown and white fleeces, with lovely gentle faces topped off by the most artistic curly horns. In winter when they come to watch me pass by, I have wanted to take one back home with me so that I could lie in front of the fire, nestling my head in its soft warm coat.

As I neared my home once more, a little car sped past carrying the logo of a Personal Fitness Trainer, no doubt having left some early morning exercise enthusiast to a much-needed shower and diet-breakfast. Back to civilisation again ......

' OLD BUTCH '

‘Have you seen Butch ?’ I ask John almost as soon as I get back indoors after being out more than an hour or so. He nods his head glumly and says he reckons Bruce is no more.. I keep hoping, but we haven't seen him at all this year, and after several warm days have passed without a sign of that dear old horse in the paddock, I have to admit that perhaps he really has kicked the final bucket.

Butch has been part of our life ever since we came to live here five years ago. When we first saw him chewing happily away at hummocks of grass not far from my studio window, we did a bit of a double take. Not only was his back really deeply curved, but he only had one eye. We realised he must have had a somewhat chequered past, but was obviously now receiving loving care, for in really bad weather we didn’t see him at all, and then on chilly dull days he would always be wearing a nice waterproof overcoat.

One day when working in the front garden we looked up to see Butch walking past, being sedately led along the road by a young woman. She explained that Butch was 27 years old !! – and that he had been ill-treated in the past, and ‘rescued’, and was now their much-loved pet, never ridden, but taken for a quiet walk from time to time which he seemed to much enjoy.

For the past two summers Butch has been joined in his paddock by half a dozen young calves. When they first arrived we wondered how he would cope with his new youthful companions, but they seemed to settle down very happily together. In fact he often seemed to be just enjoying their company, and keeping a fatherly eye on their antics.

Butch wasn’t averse to a few antics of his own. He had a particular post, along the fence beside the rhyne, on which he loved to have a good scratch. He would stand parallel with the fence and move backwards and forwards looking just like a child’s rocking horse. It obviously gave him a lot of pleasure as we once timed this exercise to find that he kept up the gentle rhythmic movements for a full quarter of an hour. We were worried that he might have made himself sore, and sure enough when he turned round to saunter back down the paddock, we could see a small area where his coat had been damaged, but that never seemed to stop him returning for another satisfying rub when the mood took him.

Butch might have been very old, but he still seemed to feel the call of spring in the air, and would be surprisingly spritely, and far more interested in everything about him. I once saw him suddenly look up from the pasture, cock his ears, then turn round at speed and dash off almost at a canter. I guessed he had seen Mistress at the entrance of his paddock, way out of our sight.

So now it looks as if we shalln’t see him again. He has been such a comforting presence, often standing outside my window for long periods of time, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back. I don’t know how well he could see with his one remaining eye, but his obvious delight in his peaceful old age in spite of his handicap has provided a thoughtful example to the two of us here on the other side of the hedge.

He is sadly missed.

Bring Me Sunshine .....

The sun has come out again – in all respects!

Suddenly the weather got milder, and then the skies cleared, and we have had a few warm sunny days, which have been so very welcome after this miserably cold winter.

And sunshine has returned to our lives in other ways too after a somewhat cheerless year so far.

We have had the real pleasure of having our daughter Kerry come over from her home in Wales, to spend a few days’ holiday here with us. She brought her friend, and they much enjoyed relaxing on our balcony, taking in the view and the antics of the birds on our feeders, as well as seeing a little of the surrounding area.

Then at the weekend we were lucky enough to be part of a large family party at the Theatre Royal in Winchester to see our granddaughter Vicki play Ruth in a youth production of G & S’s ‘Pirates of Penzance’. She sang, she danced, was witty, dazzling and totally beguiling. The cast were breathtakingly energetic and enthusiastic, and to see 15 year old Vicki strutting her stuff so confidently out in front was such a joy. I had been saying how much I needed a good laugh during the past few gloomy weeks, and my Goodness this was a real tonic!

Back home in the garden spring is definitely in the air, with birdsong greeting us whenever whenever we venture outside. We have been thrilled to see a couple of tits come to look over the birdbox on the fence where we can keep watch on it from the garden room. I’m not sure which of the couple, male or female, actually did the viewing, but it was very thorough – popping inside for moments on end whilst its partner sat twitchingly impatient on a budding forsythia twig just outside. They both did a very thorough inspection of their possible new home and its surroundings – sitting up on the fence, then flying down to the roof of the box, going inside again and again – before finally flying off together. They obviously decided it wasn’t their idea of a des.res., but we are intrigued to know how they conveyed their decision to one another. We also wonder what is wrong with our birdbox? Perhaps they feel it isn’t safely enough protected by leaves and branches – though very soon the whole fence will be covered with the flowers, then leaves, of the forsythia, as well as a rambling rose which is already bursting with buds.

However, a robin has decided that the box hedge along the opposite side of the garden is JUST the place to set up home. We have been able to observe him with bits of dead leaves in his beak frantically flapping his wings and gliding along the side of the hedge like a helicopter, then suddenly diving into the foliage. Soon he emerges again and scrabbles about the rockery before repeating the process all over again. We haven’t dared to take a look for fear of disturbing him, but if ‘location, location..’ is relevant, then the various birdfeeders hanging in the nearby apple tree provide a very useful local ‘takeaway’.

This warmer, drier weather has made it possible for me to make three forays into the garden in recent days, in order to try to clear up the detritus left after the wealth of flowers we enjoyed all last year. Having heard that my 92 year old mother had got a back problem following an overly long first session digging in her garden recently (yes …. she WAS digging ….. she’s an amazing woman who still enjoys looking after her own garden)…. I decided to tackle the work ‘little and often’. I have now cleared the front garden, and have just one large bed under the garden room window to sort out. John gave the lawns their first mow this year a couple of days ago, so for the now everywhere looks very ‘kempt’ and we are able to enjoy the snowdrops, primroses, and daffodils now they have been rescued from under the dried up remains of last year’s glory.

At last – the First Day of Spring officially on 1st March (Jenny informs me it’s the first day of autumn Down Under ….. as she left these shores in the middle of summer last year, she must be more than ready for a change of season!) After this unusually long cold winter, everything in the garden is very late appearing – but then, much more appreciated when it does eventually materialise.

Whatever Happened to My Good Intentions?

Outside our home in the snow.

Here it is, the 12th February, and only my third entry to this blog-diary. To say this has been an eventful year so far would be putting it mildly, but sadly the events have not been happy ones. The unexpected deaths of two friends (followed by truly inspirational funerals) and the illnesses of family and friends, together with the whole gloomy financial situation which seems to be affecting so many people we know, has not got this year off to a good start.

Our biggest concerns, of course, have been about Kim, and John and I went down there end January/beginning February to help out whilst she was back in hospital again for more tests. It was such a trying time for her, poor soul, but eventually they did come up with a diagnosis, and she has returned home with the problems with her eye gradually improving.

Whilst down in Hampshire there was the heaviest snowfall for years, and the glorious scenery in the countryside along the Test Valley was transformed overnight to a real winter wonderland. The schools were closed, so the four kids were able to enjoy the rough and tumble of snowfights and toboggan rides, whilst we two oldies took a long sedate walk along the almost traffic-free local roads, just marvelling at the beauty all around, and trying to capture it on camera. The many and varied thatched cottages in the area looked so cosy wrapped in their snowy blankets, and families of ducks paddled happily in the icy streams, sometimes venturing out on to the banks, where their webbed feet didn’t always stop them sinking (amusingly) into the snow.

It was great to spend time with four teenage grandchildren, and to take a peek into their world. So much has changed since our own five were that age, not least the huge amount of technology which they seem to handle with such casual dexterity, and the sometimes incomprehensible language that they speak Still, it is reassuring to see that not everything has changed , and that teenage concerns and angst remain the same as ever. I could half close my eyes and see our 17 year old grandson, with his fashionably untidy hair and droopy denims morph into our own boys at that age….. who have now become such worthy pillars of the establishment, of whom we are rightly proud. That particular grandson delighted us by cooking a splendid breakfast for us all when the snow closed college, and on another occasion he serenaded us with a Bach Prelude on his guitar. Just some of the many pleasures that as grandparents we are privileged to enjoy.

So now we are back home in Somerset. We missed the heavy snowfalls here, but there has been more snow since our return, which though giving us the pleasure of seeing the surrounding countryside and our garden covered like white icing on a wedding cake, soon melted away. (…’there’s one thing about snow – it makes your lawn look as good as your neighbour’s!’) The fields beyond the stream had huge puddles everywhere, which froze overnight and glinted in the early morning sunshine before gradually soaking away into the ground. Much of Somerset has been flooded as a result of all the melting snow, but apart from great pools of water along the sides of local lanes, which our cars merrily splash into causing great crashing sprays over the nearby hedges, we have not had too much trouble here.

Whilst having lunch in the garden room earlier this week we were distracted from our TV viewing by the sight of two little egrets landing beside the stream beyond the paddock. Little egrets seems a strange name for these birds – they are pure white, about the size of ducks, but much more aerodynamically proportioned. They were clearly enjoying a little courtship routine – who told them it was Valentine’s Day on Saturday? Actually we have seen, and heard, lots of birds all a-twitter on the rare dry days recently, so surely spring can’t be too far away.

Having this cosy studio away from everything at the end of the garden, with a view from the window across miles of countryside beyond, allows me an unexpectedly close up view of the local wildlife as they go about their business. They seem totally oblivious to my prying eyes, so that the studio acts as a sort of ‘hide’. The other day, as I was working at my computer, I looked up to see a fox nosing around in the snowy grass just a few feet away. He seemed hot on the trail of something tasty, his nose twitching and head down as he searched the area in vain, finally heading off to pastures new. Perhaps he had caught a whiff of the cat, which earlier in the day I had been fascinated to watch sniffing about in the snow for some considerable time. I always thought cats didn’t like getting wet, but this one even had his underbelly drooping into the snowy wetness, but carried on intent on his purpose, till he did seem to find something to his liking, for I saw him high-step off with something wriggling in his mouth.

Another visitor we have been really delighted to see back again has been ‘our ‘ heron, who has appeared several times since our return. His ungainly flight and descent, like a heavy old transport aircraft, always catches our attention. He lands at the same place on the bank of the stream every time – as do the little egrets. We can’t see the stream itself from here, but there must be some particular feature at that spot which attracts these ‘fishing’ birds. In fact, one day last year we caught sight of our heron struggling back up the bank with a large fish struggling furiously in its beak. The fish put up a frantic fight, but of course the heron got his dinner in the end. We were so surprised that the little stream should support such a large fish but sometimes after a lot of rain, we can actually see the water from our windows - it is so high, so I suppose it is little wonder that fish, and perhaps other river creatures, are to be found there.

Whilst typing this, the tabby cat has been perched on the fence beside the paddock, gazing down into the rhyne below. In warmer weather TC, as we call him, is often to be seen picking his way carefully along the top of the fence, like a performer on a high wire, but in winter we don’t see him so often. Today it is relatively mild, so he has probably been lured from his fireside retreat, and although well fed by his kindly owner, has decided to look for a tasty snack to keep him going until his next proper meal. He spends simply ages sitting atop a fence post, peering down below, his head occasionally turning to one side, and now and again takes a leap down on to the bank. We are puzzled to know what he is looking for – surely not fish – but he must get lucky from time to time, or he wouldn’t keep returning to that same spot.

It must sound from all of this that we spend our whole time just watching the world beyond our windows ….. but for OAP’s of 74 and 70 we lead very full and busy lives. During the past few days, for instance, I have given a Talk to an audience of 80, have entertained people to supper, and been given a superb Valentine’s Evening supper by our lovely Irish neighbour and her husband, have attended an orchestra rehearsal for a Concert a couple of days later in Bristol (for which I had to find time for much needed cello practise), and have played 18 holes of golf with John out on the windswept coastal course at Clevedon. Together with all the usual housewifely pursuits( how delightfully retro that sounds), there is less time to stand and stare than I would sometimes wish. The day will arrive no doubt, but till then both of us are so much enjoying the energetic life we are so lucky to have.