OF APPLES AND THINGS

Peeling three Bramleys from the shed for a bit of stewed apple and cinnamon I was reminded of my father who would always regard an apple as a challenge - get the peel off in one go without breaking it. As far as eating eating (as opposed to baking) apples go I eat the lot, skin, core, pips (they have a slight almondy taste).
I am also looking at a large bowl of Seville oranges waiting to be turned into marmalade.
  To move on - we have had a gardener visit, after eleven years some help is at hand (perhaps reluctantly by me).
  We talked about replenishing the slate chipping paths and moving the rose bed with a view to the new upsizing and new siting area. Terms acceptable and he is the son of parents who were at school with me. (I hope that does not put him off?) So I have been weeding and clearing the rose bed until my fingers go dead. It is not the coldness but when they come round that is painful. Some of the roses are surprisingly feeble, perhaps underfed in too shallow soil, that will be remedied and we will see if we can revive them.
  First snowdrops in an egg cup in the kitchen, first blood blister of the year from my secateurs on my thumb. Bulbs coming through everywhere. Winter still with us but Spring is nudging the garden.
  Going out this morning (Sunday) and the farmer with his big tractor has snapped off the post with the electric gate button. I can tell it was he by the tyre tracks. Not a word of sorry, not a thing - just plain unneighbourly. I have cobbled some sort of support with a post and wire but will have to get it repaired. I have considered sending the bill to the farm but it would not do much good. Sigh!
  Just been out beginning to cut back the roses before transplanting later in the year - early spring best?

  There are certain objects that have moved around with us for some years - the rhubarb forcing pot, alas no lid, bought for a pound at an auction, a big lump of quartz carried down a mountain forty years ago, a sundial that belonged to R's grandmother and a small stone trough that belonged to my mother.

The trough has a small drainage hole in the base which is blocked and I will need to clear before planting up. I like the effect of the moss that has grown on it.
 
There are still some errant plants in the garden like this passion flower which continues to bud up, not die back and the primroses by the stream.


To change subject - some birds like robins are very territorial but recently I have noticed cock chaffinches at it too.

So tidying and a dry day leads to potash production - well, a bonfire. (Still smouldering a day and a half later.) The ash will go on the blackcurrants and such.

Having a one-armed wife (wrong arm)(broken wrist) leads to all sorts of surprises - cooking, ironing (the mystery of ironing a shirt), cleaning and putting in earrings. 
Currently making Cottage Pie (the one with beef not lamb (Shepherds' Pie)) for the freezer.

  And now it is time to cook the smoked haddock.