A sojourn to the Lakes

I listened, motionless and still; 

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

William Wordsworth

 

 

We are back from a week to the beautiful Lake District, welcomed back to Hazel Cottage by streams of swifts careering over the house and garden.  When we arrived at our very remote cottage we were rather charmed by the swallows swooping over us so it seemed quite right that the swifts welcomed us back home again.  This was my first visit to the Lakes and it served to prove that no photograph can ever do the majesty and scale of the mountains and hills and lakes justice.  I took hundreds of photos and although they remind me of the holiday they cannot really show what it was like - especially as I never managed to get a single swallow in a picture, even though they were always with us!

 

Before we went to the Lakes, I wanted to have seen a few of the lakes and mountains, as well as seen something of the lives of William Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter and what had inspired them.  We visited two of Wordsworth's houses, and saw his grave and some of the places that had inspired him, but it was Beatrix Potter who was ever present.  We went to her house at Hill Top of course, and saw her beautiful paintings in the Beatrix Potter gallery.  Her influence on the lakes however is immeasurable - the thousands of acres of farmland she donated to the National Trust which is still being farmed to this day, and the remote farms (including the one we stayed at) where she encouraged farmers to open their cottages to visitors at a time of financial depression. 

 

 

She was all around us it seems, and when I was surrounded by the countryside she loved so much, and saw the rabbits in the fields and the swifts swirling around our heads, it felt as if she was there, ready to paint he scene!

 

In the week we were there, I never tired of the views we saw, even the view outside our cottage was inspirational.  Now we are back home and planning nice things for the next few months to get over the shock of going back to work on Monday...

 

 

Flaming June

“It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.” ― Maud Hart Lovelace

It's Flaming June and the garden is lush and abundant and teeming with life.  A mixture of rain and a lot of warm sunshine has done its job and everything is twice the size it was the day before!  The rose bushes are laden with blooms and I can't keep up with all the dead-heading I need to do.  Insects and birds of all kinds are buzzing and twittering and hopping around the garden.

 

Weeds are growing faster than anything else, although some plants grow and they are so lovely and pretty I don't mind leaving them especially if the bees love it.  I have no clue what this is - any ideas?

 

In spite of the best efforts of our massive slug and snail population it looks as if we will get some broad beans finally and there are carrots, beans, potatoes and swiss chard growing in varying sizes.

"Now summer is in flower and natures hum

Is never silent round her sultry bloom

Insects as small as dust are never done

Wi' glittering dance and reeling in the sun

And green wood fly and blossom haunting bee

Are never weary of their melody

Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twine

Large bindweed bells wild hop and streakd woodbine

That lift athirst their slender throated flowers

Agape for dew falls and for honey showers

These round each bush in sweet disorder run

And spread their wild hues to the sultry sun."

-  John Clare, June

Meanwhile inside Hazel Cottage, a lot is going on - our Parsnip wine has been bottled and stored away for a few months time....  I can't help calling it our Peapod Burgundy!

We are in the middle of having our fireplace transformed too as we are having a wood burner fitted.  Here are some photos of the work in progress, once it is complete, I will post more pictures.  Its really very exciting!

The fireplace has been cleared out and the brickwork re-pointed

The flue is in!  And the hearth tiles have been laid

Hearth tiles now grouted and decorative tiles fixed.

Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate

I've just realised how long it is since I last blogged.  The whole of May has whizzed past in a frenzy of work it seems.  I have had  time to start to learn to crochet however, wanting to find a craft I could do to keep my hands busy as well as something a little more portable than painting or patchwork.

We've both put a lot of effort and energy into our garden lately when the weather has allowed.  On a pleasant sunny day, it is my sanctuary.  One of the things I loved about the garden when we bought the house was the fact that it wasn't just one long space, the people who lived here before us had put effort into adding fences and large shrubs and of course, the gate in the middle of the garden.  There is always a sense of a journey, of a secret garden beyond a gate....

 Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate.

J. R. R. Tolkien

I wait for you at the garden gate

Yes I will patiently wait

Among the wild flowers that bloom

So fragrant and so free

They will wait with me

With lots of room

As I watch the path

Time will pass

That leads to my garden gate

My heart knows to wait

This path that meanders on by

Sometimes it seems to touch the sky

I am not all alone you see

My garden keeps me company

As I patiently wait for you

The sky turns azure blue

It reminds me of your true eyes

Holds no secrets, holds no lies

So my anxious heart yearns

Lingering memories that burn

For my true love to come along

He'll bring me flowers and a song

He'll wander thru my garden gate

My heart knows he was worth the wait

The gate is the focus of our garden all the year round, even in the depths of winter when the snow is deep and even.

 

'Show me your garden, and I shall tell you who you are'
Alfred Austin

Time for tea

Sometimes there is nothing else for it but to have a proper pot of tea and a slice of homemade fruit cake of an afternoon.

We bought our Wood's Beryl ware tea service on our honeymoon and it usually sits on our dresser.  Sometimes however a mug of tea isn't right and you need to get out a teapot and  cups and saucers.

Using the teapot is also an excuse for using a tea cosy.  I love this tea cosy, I didn't make it sadly, its a Cath Kidston design from a few years ago.

'Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room with a tea cosy, doesn't try it on.'

Billy Connolly

I also bought some flowers at a market, which looked so beautiful on our dining room table.  I do love cottage garden flowers like delphiniums and stocks.  As I struggle with growing such flowers due to our massive slug and snail population, I try to buy them often during summer.

“There are few hours in life more agreeable than the ceremony known as afternoon tea”
  Henry James

If you've read this blog often, you will know that I'm a great fan of Jerome K Jerome and his wise and witty writings.  He has this to say about tea;

'“After a cup of tea (two spoonsful for each cup, and don't let it stand more than three minutes,) it says to the brain, "Now, rise, and show your strength. Be eloquent, and deep, and tender; see, with a clear eye, into Nature and into life; spread your white wings of quivering thought, and soar, a god-like spirit, over the whirling world beneath you, up through long lanes of flaming stars to the gates of eternity!”
  Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men in a Boat

The language of flowers

There are lots of books that tell us about the meaning of flowers.  The Victorians were fascinated by the subject and hundreds of books were published about it.  A white rose means purity and innocence and a red rose means love.  The new tulips which now grow in our garden mean 'declaration of love' and our alliums mean 'prosperity'.

Even Shakespeare's plays were used, rue was said to indicate regret - this is from Ophelia's mad ravings in Hamlet:

 There's fennel for you, and columbines:

there's rue for you; and here's some for me:

we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays:

O you must wear your rue with a difference

Rosemary is said to symbolise remembrance, the tradition of this is probably far older than Shakespeare's time  'There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.'  

We are lucky in England in that many of the flowers that grow wild have wonderful names that describe their traditions and meaning.  My favourite of these if Forget-Me-Not, a dainty and beautiful flower that we grow here at Hazel Cottage.  This year we even have some growing wild in our lawn!

So many flowers are named after Mary, the mother of Jesus.  The Madonna Lily of course, but there are scores of flowers and shrubs named in her honour, usually starting with 'Our Lady'.  Lady's Mantle still bears her name, but in medieval times clematis was the Virgin’s Bower and lavender was Our Lady’s Drying Plant.  In the fourteenth century the poet Dante called Mary "the Rose, in which the divine Word became flesh."  So of  course the rose is also her symbol.  Even the humble marigold - or Mary's Gold as it once was, is named after her.

Lilies at our local church at Easter

I tried to bring in a good number of flowers into the house for Easter.  This year I was blessed with a larger number of flowers as Easter was quite late. In addition to the daffodils we bought, I added forget-me-nots, grape hyacinth, pansies, chive flowers and flowering currants.

 

If you've never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom. ~Terri Guillemets

Their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers

'Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.'  Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

We sat in the garden on a warm, bright Sunday afternoon eating home made rock cakes and watching the bees.  Suddenly spring is here and everything is blooming.  My spring garden is filled with bluebells, comfrey, tulips, hyacinths and primroses.  Even the borage has started to flower.  The whole garden was buzzing with bees, wasps and hoverflies of all kinds. 

 

I'm not an expert in bees, but we did see several different types - some bumble bees and some more shaped like honey bees.  Some were very dark and others were almost ginger or yellow.

They particularly love the comfrey flowers and spend most of the spring dancing around them.

I must state that I didn't take these wonderful photos - they are the work of Mr C, who is brilliant with things like this.    I did however make the rock cakes!

My sister and brother in law keep bees and were selling their honey at a local market this weekend.  These wonderful little creatures always feel rather miraculous and magical to me.

How doth the little busy bee 

Improve each shining hour, 

And gather honey all the day 

From every opening flower.

Isaac Watts

A wet weekend in Devon

We are just back from a rather soggy weekend in Devon seeing the family.  I don't think the sun came out at all but nature carries on regardless and spring is indeed springing everywhere.  Every hedgerow was an intense green and resplendant with primroses and these lovely white flowers - does anyone know what these are?  They look a bit like snowdrops but are obviously too late in the year for those.

There is something special about primroses.  So gentle and simple and just so much part of our countryside. AE Housmann mentioned the primrose in his poem to the Lenten Lily

'Tis spring; come out to ramble

The hilly brakes around,

For under thorn and bramble

About the hollow ground

The primroses are found.

  This poem was rather sweet, meant to be a children's song:

Ring-ting! I wish I were a primrose,
A bright yellow primrose blowing in the spring!
The stooping boughs above me,
The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
 And the elm-tree for our king!
Wm. Allingham—Wishing. A Child’s Song.

If it wasn't for the fog you would be able to see that the farmland actually stretches further than the veg patch.  The veg patch has been dug over ready for planting, some cabbages are just in (out of view).

Some newly purchased sheep mowing the front lawn.  You can see the grass they've been eating on the left, and the lush new grass they have just been moved onto...

I believe the breed is a Dorset sheep.  They were very woolley, even having woolly legs!

We wondered whether this was the home of some rabbits or something else?

A hedgerow always seems to remind me of a Pre-Raphaelite painting and it always makes me wish I could paint this scene in detail.