Autumn clouds and comfort food

At last we have had a good amount of rain, and the landscape is slowly greening up again. There is a distinct autumnal feel to the shortening days, and I'm settling into the cooler weather with a sense of relief and the urge to cook hearty comfort food. This morning, it was bright, with a warm southwest wind herding great flocks of billowing clouds over the Shropshire countryside; it was the ideal weather for a cycle.

I visited the village and popped into the little shop which sells all manner of lovely things, buying a big handmade pasty as a treat, and turned my return into a longer circular ride of seven and a half miles. This is a favourite route of mine, winding lazily past open farmland, with wide views towards the Shropshire Hills of Caer Caradoc and the Lawley.

The lanes were strangely quiet throughout August, as the extreme heat took its toll on the agricultural year. With the rain of the last couple of weeks, farmers are out in their tractors, busy making up for lost time, ploughing and fertilising for winter crops.

Here we are looking across to the pointy pimple summit of Caer Caradoc, just on the horizon, behind the trees on the right.

You can see it more clearly below, on the left, taken as the sun made an escape from the clouds and lit up the hillside. And there, to the right, just on the edge of the fields, looking delightfully out of place, a white gazebo, poised elegantly in the rugged Shropshire landscape.

I haven't been out on No.6 much this summer, due to the heat, and despite the pedal assist, which helps my cranky old knees, I was glad to find myself on the home stretch, stopping to admire a last view of the cloud palaces.

The homely looking dish is my very simple version of corned beef hash; just a medium chopped onion, sauteed in a pan, add a can of baked beans and a tin of corned beef, diced. A good splurt of brown sauce (I think the nearest US equivalent is steak sauce, or you can use Worcestershire), and a pinch of dried mixed herbs. Into a large oven proof bowl.  Then a ton of mashed potato on top, with cheese if you're feeling extravagant, and I had some home grown tomatoes, so they went on top too. It's lovely to be able to enjoy hot food again.

(This also works for vegetarians, by subbing out the corned beef for red lentils and for vegans, the same, using Vegan butter/cheese alternatives with the mash).  

Bleached fields and outdoor sketching

We are back to cooler weather, and with Sunday morning being the best time to find the roads quiet, I hopped onto No.6 and set off to find a view to sketch. Being on the edge of the Shropshire Hills, it's only a matter of a couple of miles of pedalling, before the skies open up and the county is laid out in vast fields, with views disappearing into the distance towards Wales and Cheshire.

It's been an intense summer, and Shropshire, like the rest of the UK, is parched and bleached. The sky was faded denim blue, cloud ragged, and the Wrekin sulked low on the horizon. 

I found a gateway with room to park up. I'd brought a sketchbook and a limited palette of pastel pencils; I had no intention of producing an intricate masterpiece, just a five minute study of sky and land.

No.6 came in handy for a temporary materials stand. 

I'm very pleased with my new A5 Hahnemühle Cappuchinno sketchbook; although the paper is smooth, it holds pastel well, especially once fixed and the tinted pages make colours glow. I got the basics down and took some extra photos for reference.

Cycling home, and it seems as if autumn has arrived early, but without the delicious damp winds and mellow sunshine. We are forecast a little rain soon, and the baked earth needs it. 

Daffodils and winding lanes

It’s been a very long start to Spring, and I was keen to take advantage of what felt like the first proper day of the season. Poor No.6 has been champing at the bit to get out after his Winter rest, and together we headed off along the winding road, keeping an eye open for tractors and daffodils.

The trees were still looking grey and cold, but as we approached the village,  there were plenty of nodding daffodils to remind us that the season really is finally changing. It was a fairly warm day and as we passed the church, there was a man on the edge of the graveyard (well wrapped up) practising his saxophone, gentle, mournful notes drifting over the wall.

Back in open countryside and the fields are lined with delicate blackthorn blossom, frothing the hedgerow like clustered stars against a night sky.

Despite the many weeks of rain this year - the wettest in the Midlands since records began - the fields are already vibrant and lush with new growth.

Around a corner and suddenly there, in the distance, towards Church Stretton, lie the long, low shapes of Ca’er Caradoc and the Lawley, misty blue against a clear sky.

Spinning along in the sunshine, cooled by an Easterly breeze and passing dear little cottages nestling on edge of narrow, hedge lined  lanes.

And inevitably, another hill, which we took slowly with a fair amount of pedal assist from No.6’s battery.

Past the creepy pond, which is always covered in green slime and surrounded by half dead trees.

And hooray for a big downhill stretch, with little yellow celandines lining the road cheerfully and trees flushed pale green with emerging leaves.

It had been nearly seven miles and we were in sight of home - a tiny, beloved cream speck on the horizon, where in less than ten minutes I would be in the kitchen putting the kettle on and No.6 will be having his battery recharged.

My batteries needed recharging too, and happily there was some old but edible homemade cherry cake to go with my much needed cup of tea.

A wedding cake church and autumn showers

Autumn is truly here and although the swallows are still here, happily swooping around as if they have no intention of migrating, I don’t think we’ll be getting an Indian summer. After months of near drought conditions in the Midlands, rain has returned and the countryside is green again. The September sun provides a glorious contrast to the brooding clouds that bring in short, heavy showers, making the harvested landscape gently glow pale and golden.

In need of a little outing, I cycled out to investigate a nearby parish church, following the long, hedgerow lined road which eventually leads to the village.

It’s not been on my radar for visiting, despite being close to home, as it’s mostly built in the rather grand perpendicular style of the Medieval period.  I much prefer smaller, older churches, plain and humble, preferably with a fragment of surviving Anglo-Saxon stonework somewhere in the brickwork, or at the very least, something Norman (which might make me a church snob). This one has always reminded me of a lurid, over sized wedding cake. 

But here we are, with No.6 propped up against the red Shropshire sandstone walls. I wasn’t able to explore inside, as there is an A4 sheet of paper pinned to the (hundreds of years old) door, declaring that entry is temporarily forbidden due to there being the dual calamities of a wasp nest and a hornet’s nest inside.

That left the surrounding graveyard to investigate and it charmed me more than I had anticipated, with a jumbled mix of stones from the relatively humble to the more ornate, overgrown with long tangles of dried summer grass and dark ivy creeping over once important names. 

It would be the perfect setting for a gloomy, 1970s style children’s TV series, with a child ghost and some kind of awful, ancient secret lurking under a large, elaborately decorated tombstone.

I did have a lovely surprise though, when I spotted a mysterious gate in the back wall, with a tantalising glimpse into a formal garden. As some of you reading may know or remember, I adore topiary.

Beyond all this tangled, decaying splendour lay the immaculate grounds of the village ‘big house’. Presumably it provided a quick and private route to church services for the family once upon a time. Now it is owned by a private company offering outdoor pursuits, but the gardens are still beautifully maintained and I was able to enjoy a secret peek, enjoying the sight of immaculately sculpted trees and pristine lawns. I may have to return one day with a sketchbook.

Then a short shower began and I took refuge in the thick walled stone porch, chatting to the attendant who was greeting visitors with offers of cake and coffee. 

We discussed bell ringing and wasps for some time, until someone else arrived and the rain had passed. Time for home and lunch.

I cycled home quickly, using No.6’s handy pedal assist to get me swiftly up the hills, trying to beat the next wave of showers which were moving in swiftly from Wales. Here in this backwards look, you  can just see the church tower poking up with its tiny flag, nestling in the faraway green.

We got back just in time, with the first fat raindrops falling as I turned the key in the cottage door. Time for homemade red lentil soup, salty and smoky, with just a hint of warmth from a pinch of chilli flakes and a sprinkling of Worcestershire sauce.

Up a lace lined hill

We have had such glorious weather these last few weeks that it has felt more like summer than spring. This is the time of year I love the most, when the country lanes are lined with frothy trails of Queen Anne's Lace (or Cow Parsley, to use it's more common name). In search of a view, I headed off to a hill. Because to get a magnificent view, there is always, annoyingly, a hill to be climbed. 

I think the last time I attempted this mile long uphill drag was about seven years ago, on my dear old 'acoustic' bike Marjorie. I pushed her almost all the way to the top. To be fair, it is the kind of incline that only the really fit and hardened would be able to manage. This is the edge of the Shropshire Hills and very popular with serious cyclists, who seem to enjoy the endless ups and downs.  

On No.6, with pedal assist of full throttle, I actually made it two thirds of the way up before dismounting. Pushing is a chore. but when the scenery is so lovely it's nice to take things slowly and drink it all in.

At the top, the views across Shropshire are simply breath taking. Below you can see across to Wales, with the Long Mynd snaking low across the horizon.

Across to the north and even further views out towards Shrewsbury and beyond that,  the Cheshire Plain.

I had planned to go further this day, but I was quite hot and tired, and No.6 wasn't fully charged. We were only a few miles away from the cottage and it was past lunchtime.

The blissful reward after all the effort of getting to the top of a long hill is naturally the prospect of going down it. I think we covered a mile in about five minutes and were home in under half an hour.  

There was no question that I had earned my carbs. This is a small batch bread roll loaf made with just 250g of flour. It's perfect for my needs and one quarter is more than enough for a meal. 

I don't think there are many more satisfying meals when you are properly hungry - especially after exercise - than bread and cheese. Unless it's bread and cheese with piccalilli.