All the lane awash

After the spring drought, we have had several days of regular rain, and not just regular - one shower so torrential that it was almost a 'white out' and a bout of storms, which was very welcome. There is nothing like like a good storm. A few days ago, we watched from my studio window as the thunder cracked overhead (leading to a brief power cut) and the lane outside swiftly became covered in a few inches of rapidly moving silty water.

Dramatic as it looks, once the clouds had passed, the lane was almost back to normal, thanks to the cottage being on a hill and good drainage. After a rather exciting evening, we had just sat down to dinner, when there was a scuffling in the wood burner flue and a muffled thump. We knew what it was at once. Despite a top cover, a starling had managed to get into the chimney. It flew straight to the window and seconds after I took this, was fluffing itself up on the fence, before flying off over the fields.

Butterfly confusion and the Mandela Effect

Have you ever heard of the Mandela Effect’? It’s a bit brain-twisty, but it’s one of my favourite conspiracy theories. Alternate universe kind of thing, worth looking up if you’re interested. Anyhow, last year, I discovered that the butterfly I’d always thought of as a Red Admiral, was actually a Painted Lady and that the Painted Lady was a Red Admiral. And I’d believed this ever since I was old enough to learn butterfly species, so really, most of my life. Or several decades.

How I managed this, as a self proclaimed nature lover,  I really don’t know, and to be honest, it’s so ingrained in me that I still think of these pretties as Red Admirals. Although since posting them to my Instagram feed and proudly declaring them to be Painted Ladies, a kind friend who really is an expert in these things told me (gently) that they were, in fact, Small Tortoiseshells. Anyway, these two butterfly things were happily suckling away on the thyme flowers this morning, and I crept up to quietly capture them in the best possible way. 

As for my life long mis-identification of Red Admirals etc, I am partially convinced that there has been some kind of Mandela Effect thing going on, and once upon a time I was correct in my belief,  before we slipped into what is our present day universe. I am, in a nutshell, slightly confused - but these are not Red Admirals. Or Painted Ladies.

Jam on a grey day

A grey day, brightened only by the red rambling rose scrambling over the fence. The much needed rain has finally arrived. Time to find a favourite book.

Somewhere in the freezer, last summer's gooseberries.

Deep in the depths of a store cupboard, rather old jam sugar, solidified into blocks.

Some gentle rolling.

 Looking alarmingly like a pan full of small frogs.

At last, after much boiling, it comes together. Somewhat runny, but with a tart sweetness.

Lumpy, bumpy rolls, soft and floury.

Breakfast.

Waking to rain

I wake to rain, the first we have had for weeks. The early morning light is pale and dull, falling like soft ash across the plaster walls of our bedroom, merging the old exposed paint layers into a pearlescent map, a mysterious, unexplored land of mists and grey seas.

The rain outside falls softly and steadily. A faint aroma of iron drifts through the thin, worn curtains, a metallic top note underlaid with the verdant aromas of parched vegetation drinking greedily, the wet fruitiness of dry earth swelling into a dark, moist cake.

Beyond the soft sound layer of muted splashing, there is faint, rhythmic clattering from the machinery of a mechanical farm beast working the fields, peppered with the piercing cries of small hedgerow birds. The silver lace of a blackbird’s song threads through, holding all together with a crescendo knot of joy.

Far distant, the bustling roar of a train rises and fades, disappearing to Beyond.

Bean pyramid

Another mysterious arrival appeared on the doorstep several days ago - or was it longer? I am honestly sinking into an even bigger time sink than normal, which is saying something. Again, I have no idea of who the sender is, but if they are reading this, we are both very touched and send many thanks. Joe looked a little worried as he counted twenty four cans of beans, until I told him that at the moment we are getting through five or six cans a week. I've even put them in a lasagna. 

Talking of pasta, we were also gifted a very generous box of it by a kind friend (whom I won't embarrass by naming, but they know who they are). I celebrated by making one of my favourite comfort foods - spaghetti and cheese. This can be as posh or not-posh as you like, depending on what you have available, which in this case was cheddar cheese, the last drizzle of olive oil, sea salt and ground black pepper, with a sprinkling of Worcestershire sauce. It's also nice with butter, but olive oil is my preference. In the distant past I've had it with just  standard margarine and soy sauce, which I ate nearly every day (and with pasta as well as spaghetti) when I've been hard up.  Things aren't that bad, by the way, but I still love this plain and comforting dish. (Don't tell any Italian food purists, but I have been known to put brown sauce on it too).

 

Since my last post, I have had a good hard think about how I am going to move my tiny business forward without access to the postal service, and the only credible option is to create PDF patterns. They are quite labour intensive, if done properly, however they have the advantage of being available to everyone, worldwide and without postal charges too. My photo area is pretty basic, but it's worked for me for many years. As you may be able to see, I've been designing a little cat. After a week of photographing the steps, I'm about to ensconce myself in front the computer and plod through the task of making the PDF. Fueled with beans, pasta and of course, rice; thank you kind friends!

Vintage trifle and brand new rice

After our UK lockdown was officially announced and we were still slightly in shock (even though we had been expecting it), I decided to make a comforting treat of trifle. I was sure I had the basic ingredients, including some stale home made fruit cake leftover from Joe's packed lunches which I'd saved 'just in case'. 

I rifled the shelf where my baking ingredients are and unearthed a packet of blackcurrant jelly, use by date 2007 and some (in date) packet instant custard. Also a tin of mangoes; it was going to be an odd combination, but trifle is, I thought, always nice.It just needed some 'hundreds and thousands', which I eventually found in a box of old cake decorating stuff.

Joe was in the kitchen as I was scattering them over the rather beige looking trifle. He'd been a bit concerned about the 2007 jelly, but I reassured him that it was only jelly, and what could possibly go wrong? Then I looked at the date on the lid. And even I was slightly shocked.

We worked out that if the 'best before' date was 1999, then they were probably bought a couple of years beforehand. This meant that these 20th century sprinkles pre-dated my blog by a good seven or eight years. Andy and I hadn't even moved to our little cottage in the Cotswolds then. These sprinkles were not only vintage, but a piece of history, and I had just flung a handful over my 'make do and mend' trifle. It was a frugality too far for Joe.

Strangely, at the end of our evening meals over the next few days, he was mysteriously 'full and couldn't eat another thing', so it was left to me to consume the beast. The last soggy helping was finished a few days ago. Served in a nice bowl, to make up for what I have to admit was a pretty unappealing dessert. I have not, as yet, suffered any side effects from consuming over two decades old sprinkles.  

Speaking of food, just before I sat down to share this tale of culinary delight, a large and heavy parcel arrived. I hadn't ordered anything, so it was a complete mystery, which revealed itself to be a whopping 10kg of jasmine rice! There was no accompanying note, and I am completely in the dark as to the thoughtful and generous sender. Rice has been on my 'I wish I could find' list for several weeks now, so you can imagine how welcome this is. On the off chance that the sender is one of my blog readers, I'd like to send a huge and heart felt thank you - every time we eat it, I will be reminded of the kindness of the anonymous 'someone'. And it will definitely be consumed by it's use by date.