A JAM SESSION

So the wife’s away and what do I do?

No, you are wrong.

Raspberries will rot if I do not make them into jam - recipe in Mrs Beeton and a year or two ago on the blogspot blog.

And the old plums and apple in the freezer need to be used so space is ready for this year’s crop. Mind you I think some of the fruit in there is from two years ago. We do not eat it fast enough to keep up with supply.

So add an onion, some raisins, ginger and chillies, sugar and salt and we end up with Chutney.

Delia S. has a good recipe called Old Doverhouse Chutney.

Then, after jarring it, (not really bottling), it should be left for at least three months to mature.

(Do you like the Cow tray?)

I keep picking blackcurrants and freezing them, the broad beans are nearly ready but the beetroot is very poor this year - I seem to be having great difficulty getting them to germinate.

And it keeps right on a-raining, every minute every hour. Having said that, as I sit here typing out comes the sun.

This morning there was a terrible din behind one of the sheds and what should I find trapped there but a jay! I rescued and released it (put on some tough gardening gloves first) and what a kerfuffle! They are fantastic close to - British parrots, I think, is an apt description - and all the rest of the day the bird has been recounting its escapade to the rest of the family in the big trees next door. What a row!

I do have a habit of using things in the garden that, perhaps, should be binned. A few years ago I bought a couple of white Polish (it said so underneath) dining chairs and put them up in the wood.

No one sat on them and they gradually rotted away and ended on the autumn bonfire. Odd things hang in trees like old goggles and broken wind chimes. At the base of one rhododendron pruned to grow on a single trunk is a sheep’s skull.

And the dark wood is lit by two Rambling Rector roses in full bloom - their white flowers tumbling in masses in the half shade. I can see them from my window - as I can see that everything needs dead heading, weeding (broad-leaved willowherb everywhere this year).

Then I see it is half-past four and the skimmings off the raspberry jam are waiting to be eaten in the kitchen. The kettle and a mug are waiting too . . .