The garden in June

As I write, we are coming to the end of what has been a solid week of rain. Thankfully the cottage is on a hill and we have escaped the flooding that has disrupted some parts of Shropshire. So as the garden is looking rather soggy and the summery flowers temporarily defeated, I am glad I took these photos when everything was happier and drier. 

A foxglove self seeded itself in an awkward corner and while my first instinct was to remove it, I spared it, to see how it would grow. I'm very glad I did, as it naturally shaped itself around the large lavender bush and has grown to be  roughly six feet tall.

Like the lavender, it is buffeted by westerly winds which push it into a curvaceous line and so they have combined to make a graceful composition that, had I planned it, could not have looked more beautiful. 

The front herb patch continues to grow - with very little money, I am slowly filling it out, leaving enough space for everything to spread. Cheap herbs, such as the common and trailing thymes will, over a couple of years, grow rather too well. I hard prune the common thyme back twice a year, when the bee friendly flowers are finished, but this year I am going to be more ruthless or it will take over. 

At the front of the patch where the shallow growing plants are, there are three types of oregano, four thymes, golden marjoram, trailing rosemary, a French tarragon which struggles, and a few other things including a random tub of parsley used as a space filler.

Common violas, which cost one UK pound a pot, seem to go on forever if they are deadheaded and add subtle splashes of colour. At the back of the trough, the hyssop and blackcurrant sage have tripled in size already. There is a large bare patch for more low growing alpines at some point.

Next to the violas grows dwarf comfrey - it was grown from six stubby roots I picked up cheaply on eBay and has flourished rather too well. However, this is fine, as it was planted for the leaves which I'll be harvesting soon, as they provide an intense, nourishing fertiliser when soaked in water. And when it flowers, it is another bee attraction.

To temporarily fill up spare space, I have pots of pretty summer annuals in front of taller herbs. Since this picture was taken, the herbs have shot up and I am slightly regretting putting (what were) three tiny lemon balm plants. Now shot up and spreading, they are providing the thick cover at the back, which is what I had planned, but will need some taming soon.  

One of my favourite finds this year has been 'black' petunias - like many annuals, they hate the rain and are looking bedraggled now, but when they are warm and dry, they look like dark velvet.

I have frequently complained - bitterly - about the amount of rubble and stones which have plagued my digging efforts in the vegetable patch. However, I have found a very good use for some of the more natural shapes; large ones can hold back a vigorous plant from over growing a smaller neighbour and when placed next to a dainty alpine, adds a rather Japanese element (I like to think).

Finally, a rather blurry shot of the 'very tall foxglove' at night, from my Instagram feed. Now is coming to the end of it's glory and I will miss it when it is over. 

A jaunt to a hilltop

Spring is being unpredictable as usual, with bright sunshine one minute and showers the next. Recently we jaunted off with Jean and Brian-next-door, to attend a little outdoor archaeological lecture I had discovered was being held at Pulverbatch, a fairly nearby location. By the time we arrived, the sun was just breaking out. We were the first to arrive and feared we would be the only attendees, apart from the man with the clipboard, but soon the car park filled up and a little crowd of suitably weather proofed people were handing over their modest £3.00 attendance fee. 

We are in an area close to the Welsh border and our location was the site of the remains of a very small motte and bailey castle - I say castle, but it would have been a far cry from the big, well known tourist sites familiar to many, such as Chester and Warwick. What remained was literally a large, grassy mound, with an old hawthorn tree clinging to the side. 

I have to come clean and confess that my main interest was in escaping the cottage walls, as days out (necessitating a car) are few and far between. So I kept half an ear on the historical lecture while enjoying pastures new and fresh views. But I seem to remember that this was one of about thirty lookouts built in very close proximity and near to the border, by the Normans, shortly after the Conquest  in 1066. At the time, Wales really was another country and there were constant incursions and raids from the other side. Of course, the new Norman overlords didn't want anybody except themselves invading England, so numerous outposts like these were built, to repel and intimidate the Welsh tribes. 

Previously, the site had fallen into disrepair and nobody seems to know who actually owns it (speculation being that if someone does, they are keeping quiet to avoid the responsibility of the upkeep). But thanks to local volunteers, it has been cleared of overgrowth, a new car park area laid and recently Shropshire Archaeological Society concluded an non-invasive survey, using a drone which took 250 overhead photos and new scientific 3D methods which enabled them to build a better understanding of what lay beneath. Which is why we were here.

It was all very interesting; Joe especially enjoyed it, as did Jean and Brian-next-door, while I rested my cranky knees and sat on a strategically placed bench to take photos and drink in the spacious scenery outstretched before me. 

Later, many people, including Joe, climbed the mound to get even better views.

I remained below (the cranky knee thing) and pottered about the side paths, looking at tiny wildflowers and watching birds swoop overhead.

Afterwards, we drove back through the Stiperstones area, which I've not been able to visit since I came here with Andy, over seven years ago.

I did feel odd and sad, but as Joe said, we were making new memories. We didn't stay long - just enough to see some more views and stretch our legs. 

The Stiperstones themselves are across a scrubby moorland and can just be seen on the horizon here.

It did me the world of good to go out properly, but we were all a bit tired after a long afternoon outdoors and so we drove home, to our two adjoined cottages and a well earned cup tea.

Needle felted chicken workshop

 

Earlier this month I was once more at Loudwater Studios, near Ludlow, to hold a chicken making workshop. I enjoy coming here, as it's fairly nearby and feels like a safe, happy place. Despite only having three students, we had a very nice, chatty day (it's amazing what a variety of topics are covered).

 

As usual, I took enough wool to make several hundred chickens, in all kinds of colours (you never know if someone is going to feel inspired to make a purple hen) but my ladies decided to follow the designs of the ones I had brought along for inspiration.

I brought along pre-cut and threaded beaks, made from cocktail sticks, although this example has a woolly beak and the tiniest one on the wee chick.

It's nearly always the case that the creations made at a workshop will be larger than anything of mine that I bring along - this makes it easier for relative beginners to work with the wool, as small things can be tiresomely fiddly. Here is my little chicken in the background - and a very good larger version from the workshop in the foreground.

 

Most of the wool was merino, but I'd also brought rougher samples and nests were made. Welsh Black and Herdwick were used for quick and realistic results. Everyone said they enjoyed their day, which is for me the most important thing - as well as the reward of seeing the fabulous results.

In other news, I unearthed this trio of harlequin hares from my 'archives'. I made them in 2013, after finishing the work for my book 'Little Needle-Felt Animals' and they languished in my Etsy shop for a few years before I retired them. Happily, after showing them again on social media, they all sold as a set to the same home. Which goes to show, I think, that everything has it's time, sooner or later. 

The herb patch

2016

 

When Andy and I first looked at the cottage in 2012, we partly picked it for the good sized garden (for the price) that came with it. I knew that I would want to remodel it, as it hadn't been at all well planted, but when I lost Andy, just three months after moving in, gardening was the last thing on my mind and for a couple of years I left it all to do its own thing, while I tried to recuperate and regain my own life. Which eventually, I did.

I always had this small patch of garden ear-marked for a herb patch, including bee friendly flowers.  It was a fairly picturesque huggle-muggle of things randomly planted by the previous owners, which looked pleasant enough in the summer, but not so much in the winter. And most of the plants were weeds or 'thugs' (as Jean-next-door calls them). I've always found pots to be a useful and quick screen; they look pretty and cottage-y, and you can shift them about to change the scene.

 2016

There was also the issue of the hideous washing pole set in the centre, in a  lump of concrete, which was a labour of Hercules to remove.

 2016

Not to mention the rampant pussy willow trees by the fence, which blocked the view and drained the patch. So they went too; I'm not a fan of cutting down trees, but I'm also not sentimental about removing things if necessary. Then the whole lot was cleared and deep dug, as there were years of embedded roots choking the soil.

 2016

We put a couple of small troughs in, which the birds enjoy. 

 

2016

Over the last three years, I've gradually cleared it of everything, but with finances being so rocky and my mental collapse last year, it's remained static, apart from a couple of thyme plants which are thriving. I honestly didn't know, this time last year, if we'd even still be here in 2019. Happily, we've turned things around and for the first time since moving here six years ago, I've been able to look ahead and even buy some small herb plants.

I've had enough time to mentally plan how I want it to look, and to start with, I have put in some quick growing lemon balm to hide one of the old tree stumps (which annoyingly won't come out). The rest of the fence side of the bed will have hardy, bushy perennial herbs such as the curry plant, sage and rosemary cuttings, which will eventually grow to a good height and fight off the grass, nettles and weeds that are always trying to invade from the neighbouring field.  

 2019

It's very much a work in progress, as I'm planting slowly, carefully and within my means, but  I hope that at some point, this bed will be chock full of useful and insect friendly plants.

 2019

There has also been a lot of seed sowing - which means more garden clearance. It's the best therapy I know, and I am grateful for Spring arriving in good time.

Elephants and chickens

I rarely take on private commissions, but when I was asked if I could make a red elephant on wheels 'like Walter', I was more than happy to do so. Many years ago, I started a series of 'Lost Toys' paintings and the first one was of a little red elephant, which still remains a favourite. And it became one of my first printed cards, under the name 'Red Flannel Elephant' designs.

I sourced some old metal workman's buttons for the wheels and found a lovely vintage brass and painted button for the pull chain; thanks to my kind friend, 'V' who sent me a bundle of bits and bobs, the chain was ready made.

 

I almost never work in primary colours, but the extra yellow and blue wools were the obvious choices here. 

I had a lovely, understanding customer who was happy to accept my very long time line; in the end, this took me four weeks and about forty hours of work, despite the small size. 

And in the end, my 'Sweet Cicely' goose ended up travelling across the globe too, to the same new home. Results like that make the effort and time worth while.

So with that done, I got on with finalising the models for my next workshop - Easter chickens at the Loudwater Studios, Ludlow. These did not take forty hours...it's a nice simple and flexible pattern, and just right for absolute beginners or as a template for more complicated pattern work, if you've already got experience. It's the only workshop I'm intending to do so far this year, apart from a  possible Christmas one. Date is Friday April 12th from 10.30 until 3.30 and you will find details and link to the booking site on my own website here; www.gretelparker.com

 

Blurred Moon

I just caught the end of Monday night's lunar eclipse through a window, when I reluctantly winkled myself out of a warm bed at 4.30am for a nocturnal visit to the bathroom. And despite my initial intention to return to the cosy sanctuary of quilts and pillows, I found myself layering up and creeping downstairs (not very successfully, as the steep wooden stairs creak like old bones) to see it properly. 

Outside it was dark and freezing, yet there the Moon hung like a glowing lantern, a spectacularly stained bauble of warm orange pinks and darker purple blues. Overhead, the stars were bright and clear, and even with my rather muddled knowledge of constellations, I could pick out a few familiar patterns. As I gazed, an owl called from the far field and up at the second farm across, I heard the slow, sleepy yawn of a worker getting ready for the day, soon followed by the low hum of the milking machine. From far away, a rooster crowed and the first brave twitterings of the dawn chorus began bubbling up into the icy morning. 

Overwhelmed with a sense of wonder, I silently drank in this rare and beautiful convergence and while not particularly superstitious, I sent up a silent prayer that this would be the starting point of a new and kinder cycle of our lives. By which point (and having failed to take a halfway decent photo), my feet were getting cold and it was time to make a hot chocolate before returning to the soft, dark cocoon of the bed, where Joe lay fast asleep after a long work shift.