Birds and blackberries

 

Summer, such as it has been, seems to have flown by. Now the tractors are up and down the lane from dawn till dark, carrying loads of straw and potatoes. Already the fields are being prepared for next year's harvest. 

We cycled out spontaneously one morning, when the sun made a joyful appearance, and headed over to Venus Pool to see what was going on in the bird community.

Quite a lot, as it happened. We settled in one of the waterside hides. 

 

The geese were gathering in numbers - flocks of them have been flying over the cottage regularly, heralding the end of summer with their haunting cries. There were the usual Canadian Geese and a crowd of Grey Geese. Keeping their distance, faraway, were three pairs of Cormorants. A dignified Grey Heron mingled in a rather aloof fashion.

I told Joe how Andy always referred to these birds  as 'grey greasy fishermen', from the way they seem to slink and slide as they are hunting or flying.

There was one unexpected visitor, a Little White Egret.

 

Such a pretty thing, delicately picking its way past the waddling, guzzling geese.

 It's on the amber list of birds, so this was a good 'spot'.

We headed over to the little woodland hide, where numerous bird feeders attract the smaller birds. Nothing unusual here (though I did once watch a rat squabbling with a pair of ducks). The birds do very well here, with plenty of peanuts provided for the Great Tits and suchlike.

One last glance at Venus Pool, with the Wrekin looming in the background, before heading home to beat the incoming rain.  

 Autumn is definitely on its way.

 Joe spotted an old wasp nest in a muddy bank - I have to admit I walked right past it, thinking it was a disintegrating plastic bag.

Exquisite constructions; delicate paper palaces which will gradually dissipate over the season, leaving nothing but a few tiny, desiccated corpses. 

We picked blackberries on the way home; our summer has been somewhat mixed and fruit in general is not great this year.

 But we foraged enough for a crumble.

True to form, the British summer closed in and as we arrived home, the rain was tumbling in from Wales. This was the view from the garden...before taking cover.

 

After a good morning of wandering, and with calories to replace, there was home made trifle for lunch. This baby had my own lemon drizzle cake lining the bottom - which gives it a nice zingy cut though the sweetness of cream, jelly and custard. And, of course, hundreds and thousands.

Buckingham workshop and an adventure

This month saw me down in Buckingham for a repeat workshop at the Buckingham Summer School. It was great last year and it was great this year - with the small problem of my stupidly arriving on the wrong day. Something I only realised on my arrival, when I was greeted with 'hello Gretel, lovely to see you again - a day early'. At which point my brain caved in somewhat, as I had booked my motel room for that night only. As well, I had been asked to do a live interview from the cottage with BBC Shropshire (on the day that my workshop actually was) and had pre-booked my train tickets.

 

I'm not normally this daft and I can only blame it on my being a bit under the weather this summer and my head not being in its normal steady place. After recovering my senses, I set about sorting things out. I cancelled the interview (which was to be about this blog), managed to book the last room at the motel for an extra night - at some cost - then rang Joe and whined at length, before settling down for a dull night in a bland motel room.

I was saved by a lovely local lady (who had just ferried me from Milton Keynes train station to the school) who rang me to say that she was sorting out her spare room, so that I could stay the extra night with her. Thankfully I was able to cancel my booked room and things started to look a little better. 

 

The next day, when I had mistakenly expected to be doing my workshop, I ventured into the pretty and bustling little town of Buckingham and pottered about taking photos. I even managed to locate a nice sweet shop, where I was able to buy Joe some of his favourite truffles

 

Back at the Summer School, I was just in time to snaffle some afternoon tea.

 

The previous day, I'd  been introduced to a fellow felt maker, who's name I know from reputation; the lovely Sue Pearl. At precisely the point when my head was imploding. I hadn't really made good conversation, apart from the occasional whimper.  

 

Sue was also holding workshops at the school.  Today, she was holding a natural plant dying class and I popped in to say hello properly and have a look around. 

 

We had a good old chat and I had a peek at something which I've not encountered before. All of her students had produced beautiful work and Sue herself had examples of her work for sale. As you can see, she is multi-talented. Compared to her I'm just a one trick pony, but I do love seeing other people's work.

After that, I trailed back to what was to be my workshop room and spent a couple of hours in solitary splendour, doing my own work. During which time, I was rung by the nice people at BBC Shropshire, who told me that they really, really wanted to go ahead with the interview and could I do it by phone instead?  So that was another thing sorted out.

Later, I was picked up and taken out to dinner by my guardian angel. I don't  eat out often, so this was a proper treat and a chance to catch up with someone who has become a friend, since attending my last year's workshop. 

And so the next day began with a live early morning interview on BBC Shropshire, about my blog, and why I do it. I managed not to make an idiot of myself and Jean-next-door heard me as she was having her breakfast. 

At last the workshop started. All of my class were totally new to needle felting. And they were, without exception, fabulous.

 

 

As was lunch. I have very happy memories of last year's lunch, and I was not disappointed this time.

 

The rest of the day flew by on needle felted wings. One person had brought along some foraged sheep's wool, hoping to make it into something - which she did, making a delightful little lamb.

By the end of the day, there was a flock of geese. It is always so rewarding when the day's labours have produced fabulous results.

As for me - I was taxied back by my friend to the train station for my return trek home to Shropshire. Great relief when I discovered that there was no extra fee to pay on my train ticket. And on the way, I was rung by  a charming chap at the BBC, asking me to do another live interview on the Friday night with Georgey Spanswick, broadcasting on all of the UK's local radio stations. And again, miraculously, I managed to chat about this blog without any pratfalls. Most of the conversation was about jam, as recorded in my last blog post.

So despite a nightmarish beginning, it all worked out in the end, mostly thanks to someone going the extra mile for me. I am due to do one of my last workshops this year at Indigo Moon, Montgomery,  in Powys on Saturday October the 17th. We will be making decorative acorns.  (And yes, I really have got the date right this time!) There are still spaces left and it would be great to see you.

Blackcurrant Jamminess

When Jean and Brian invited us to help ourselves to however many blackcurrants we wanted from their garden, it was the perfect excuse to delve into a new activity. I myself prefer making chutney (less faff, more fool proof), but Joe had a hankering to try jam making.

There were certainly plenty of currants, and within 20 minutes of concentrated picking, we had 3 kilos.

The thing with so many currants, is that there is a lot of fiddly de-stalking to be done. We didn't bother with taking the dried flowers off, because as we later discovered, they simply disappear in the boiling process. I mention this specifically, as I searched the internet for ages trying to find this fact out, with limited results. So if you're reading about this via a search engine - don't sweat about the tops, just try to remove as many of the little green stalks as you can, without your eyes going squiffy.

Then we unearthed an ancient old pan of mine (now officially the 'jam pan') and began cooking. Had I realised how simple jam making is, I would have taken it up years ago. And it makes the kitchen smell delicious!

I even managed to find some waxed jam discs which had been lurking in a box for Lord knows how many years. Sterilised jars were filled.

And the next day, suitable labels were made. All a bit home-made, but pleasing nonetheless.

Bread and jam has become a very acceptable and affordable meal. We're about to make our third batch.