My Open Garden Day…..

by Karen B

Gently rounded, honey-brown and dappled by the sun, but with a slightly fragile outer shell…. something has happened to me!  I have finally become just like a Burford Brown hen’s egg! This is no surprise because during the month before my garden open day, scrambled eggs was all I had time to cook and eat as I worked outside in the sunshine from very early morning until dusk.

Tending a garden is a joyous occupation, but opening it up for others to visit when people are paying an entrance fee and where the proceeds are donated to a charity requires a garden where things are just a little bit special. But would it be good enough? Would people mind the moss and daisies in my lawn, the weeds, the fact that some of my house is in a state of disrepair? But you know what? No one minded. And as the people wandered around and looked they felt welcome and at ease and I saw my new friends sitting on the bench under the crab apple tree, in the summer house and in the cottage garden.  The sun shone on us all and on my tomato print dress (purchased from one of the big supermarkets at a bargain price) and we all celebrated our love of nature and gardens together. It was a truly happy and special day.

Would you like to take a little walk with me and see the (unfinished) Bug Hotel, the vegetables and the flowers? I will open the gate for you so that you can have a little wander and rest a while in the garden.

THE COTTAGE GARDEN

THE KITCHEN GARDEN

THE MEADOW GARDEN AND POTAGER

The Gentle Art of Dead-Heading……

by Karen B

Removing faded blooms from Summer flowering plants is essential if you want to prolong blooming. But am I the only one who finds it tedious? But with some flowers, like these Poppy seed heads, it is really easy. Each little pod in shades of soft bluey green through to  pale olive is a mini work of art. So until I actually want them to make seed which I will collect for re-sowing next year I just lose myself in their gentle beauty.

Happy dead-heading everyone!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Midsummer Mosaic Madness……

by Karen B

The cup which escaped the hammer!

Smashing up vintage china with a hammer sends shards of pottery embellished with rich paisley pattern, gold leaf and hand painted swallows flying through the air. I am in no mood for safety, technique or planning. I am making a mosaic; nothing slick and polished, but something free spirited and easy and very, very last minute. It is early evening on the night before I open my garden to the public for the very first time. I am tired! I want a bubble bath! But here I am crouched in the mud and cement…panicking.

I lovingly press the pretty china into the wet cement and begin to enjoy the jumbled up patterns. Happiest when I do not have a clue what I am doing I throw myself into the chaos of this spontaneous moment. The thunder rumbles and a rainstorm sees me and my work soaked. But the next morning….it’s all ok. And my makeshift mosaic has created a little patch of garden joy where the flowers in the border seem to have slipped down into the paving, like fallen summer petals. And I am so, so glad that I did it.

 

An Open Day in my Garden……or, ‘How to become a Garden Warrior’.

by Karen B

Did someone just shoot a starting pistol? It’s 5 a.m and and I am up, dressed, booted and out in the garden as though I am at army camp! And it already feels like a special day; one of those fabulously warm summer mornings that is simply loaded with potential. I am always out in the garden really early in the growing season. Being in the garden is a good place for creative, non- linear thoughts which usually lead in a happy, random, meandering way towards a healing solutions which are just right for me. There is just one little problem, well, lots of them actually. For there are bugs, gnats and Horse flies buzzing around me as if I was a honey jar. And they all mad for biting me in this sultry, steamy weather. These ‘Thunder Bugs’ and little critters want to eat me alive! I roll on bug repellent like war paint and head out to the meadow garden, a bandanna on my head and with the spirit of the warrior in my heart. I recklessly agreed to have an open day in my garden in aid of St Luke’s Hospice on the 11th July, so trust me, there has been war to be waged on the weeds and chaos which ordinarily would just be let go as ‘natural’ or ‘country style’.

I am making a new Potager style garden and this is how it started and looked on June 3rd.

And after  a few weeks of work and planting I think I am beginning to see a little progress and feel that things might just be ready in time.

Would you like to come? Oh please do! It is for such a good cause and I have some lovely flowers and vegetables and a variety of weeds which you may not have seen before in quite such profusion! But if the sun shines and the Bug Hotel is ready in time and the bees buzz in the Poppies and Comfrey…you may just get to see and feel why I love it here so much.

 

 

 

 

 

Trying to Find the Words………

by Karen B

The words which once busied themselves in my heart and mind, words which jostled, bubbled up and spilled out into chatter and onto the empty page are all silent and still. I try to follow the path to the place where they are held, but I can’t remember the way, or the connection, or something.

What I do is dig, clear ground, push myself hard and then harder; moving earth, feeling the weight of soil and stone. The digging started with having to dig a grave for my beloved cat Otto, who died on Tuesday June 2nd.

Out in the garden which Otto and I shared together, I labour alone with a heart which feels leaden. As the light fades, the village Church bells ring, as they do every Tuesday evening. A poignant and touching tribute to a cat who wandered into my life as a stray 3 years ago and who will never be forgotten.

Flowers where Otto lies

Wild about Bees and Miss Marple….

by Karen B

Big, drowsy Bumbles, sweet, busy Honey Bees buzzing to and from their hives or exquisite silver bees for my ears; I am just mad about bees.

My beautiful bee earrings

  And all this despite being stung by a bumble bee on one fat cheek on my face as I sat in my pram as a baby!

In the arms of my babysitter

The story of being pushed, hurriedly, through the village in my perambulator to visit the vicarage where my doctor lived and held his surgery has become folklore in my family. Whilst Dr. Harris removed the sting, Mrs Harris prepared a slice of bread butter and sweet jam to pacify and soothe me. This late 1950’s style drama, with its Silver Cross pram, vintage print dresses, a vicarage and an ex RAF doctor with a handsome handle bar moustache has almost all the ingredients worthy of a scene from an Agatha Christie novel.

With my love of Cottage Gardens full of bees, sweet little cardigans, English afternoon tea, with my attempts at knitting and crochet and my love of a good fictional murder to solve,  am I not well on my way to becoming just like one of my most favourite imaginary characters?

The late Geraldine Mc Ewan as Miss Marple
The late Joan Hickson as Jane Marple with Paul Eddington as the Vicar.

Lilac Sugar……..

by Karen B

Capture a fragrant memory of this evocative, heady perfume by tossing some dry Lilac blossoms between layer upon layer of fine sugar crystals.  This scented time- capsule containing the  essence of spring will be there for you until long after the Lilac in your garden has faded and died. Then later, sprinkle a little romance into your cooking by using the sugar in meringues, biscuits and cakes.

This jar is one of my most treasured items. It is an old Meredith and Drew biscuit jar.

   Always make sure that you use blossoms which have not been sprayed with chemicals and have not been grown close to a busy road.

 

 

 

 

Tapestry Wool Time Travel……

by Karen B

Slipping through the soft, handcrafted, embroidered and knitted threads of my family background and through the memories of all the tablecloths, blankets and clothing which the women in my family have made; I tumble into the soft, comfortable, Cottage Garden which my Grandma, Dora, made on the right hand side of this picture. As a child, each colour she chose, each French knot she made, added a new layer of delight for me. I could almost touch and smell the Roses and the Lilac. This was not just a picture- it was a whole world to me.

I now hold in my hands some of the wool which she used to make this picture. And tomorrow, I will be taking them to a class at Cowslip Workshops where my dear friend, the amazingly talented Sarah Perry, is teaching a group of students and myself how to crochet.

I am so excited about my day, for there is a safety and contentment in being with others who love to make things with their hands. And there will be laughter and sharing and cups of tea and the huge satisfaction of knowing that I will not be travelling alone- for I know that the echo of all the ladies in my own family who have ever taken up wool or thread throughout the generations will be there too.

So to my late Great Grand Mother Lydia, Grandma Dora and her sisters Elsie and Edie- who could all sew, knit and crochet- Thank you for creating the strands which hold us together across time.

My Grandma signed her picture on the back and wanted me to have it when she died.

 

 

 

Josef and the Stool….

by Karen B

Josef on a stool I am in the process of painting and distressing

It’s morning. Josef the cat stretches out his slim black legs to shake off sleep and then twists and twirls and pirouettes around my feet. In my small kitchen he purrs, yowls, stretches again and reaches up with his sharp claws onto the cutlery drawer until he hears his bowl being filled with food. Josef and I share all our favourite things and our lives are even more closely entwined since his brother Ossie died. Breakfast is a time for treats; Josef with his tin of pâté style cat food (food for the more senior and sophisticated cat) and I with my Rhubarb and Sweet Cicely scented compote and toast with jam (a pretty senior kind of breakfast too, no doubt).

All is calm and gentle as we check out the weather forecast, the sunbeams spilling in through the window, the birdies on the sill. And all is fine and dandy, that is, until one of us wants to sit down, and then the fun and games begin.  Josef jumps up on the only stool to clean his whiskers, just seconds before I decide to sit down to eat. I carry in another stool, which he jumps on as well. I bring in a chair and yes, you’ve guessed, he jumps on that too. Then the minute I do manage to sit down on any seat he has vacated he jumps on my knee and I can’t reach my breakfast! This loving musical chairs ritual always ends up the same way. When the music stops, I eat my breakfast standing up, whilst Josef, full of pâté, luxuriates in the warmth of the sun as he rests on the stool. And I realise that when it comes to negotiating with this special, rough, tough playboy of a cat with his magnificent whiskers and sparkling white tuxedo, that I am as soft as melting butter in his warm, pink-padded paws. Meow!

 

Dolly Dresses…

by Karen B

A tiny doll’s dress on a mini- mannequin is all it takes for me to recall the kind of frock which I wore as a child. In an instant I can feel the crisp, flower- printed cotton against my skin and the warm sun on my once, little girl legs. Such tender memories from so many years ago.

All the women in my family could sew and my summer dresses for myself and my dolls were made by my Grandma or Great Aunts. Often a ‘cut out and ready to sew’ kit for a new dress for me would be ordered from a magazine, such as ‘Woman’s Realm’. I can remember the thrill of choosing the colour way and then the excitement of waiting for it to arrive and be made up. There was absolute joy in wearing these special dresses with a little cardigan and a sweet bracelet.

 This was one of my  favourites –it was decorated with oranges and lemons.

 

 And this one was pink and white and decorated with a dominoes print and a sweet bow. The colour of my sandals was ‘Champagne’.

Once the Cherry Blossom starts to bloom and the sun is shining and I want to dress up, I still reach for a dress with a flower print, a cardigan and a pretty bracelet and it always makes me feel great. Add a little bunch of flowers in my hand, freshly picked from the meadow or garden and I am right back where I want to be.

We may get older, but we don’t really change that much inside do we?