Today’s Treasures – The Eckford Sweet Pea Festival – Wem
The Eckford Sweet Pea was first bred in Shropshire – but it is named after the horticulturist, Henry Eckford who was born in 1823 in Edinburgh.
In 1870 Henry Eckford was in charge of a garden at Sandywell in Gloucester and his employer encouraged his interest in breeding plants. When they moved to Boreatton in Shropshire, Dr. Sankey encouraged him further and he started the development of the sweet pea which had changed little since it was first introduced from Sicily in 1699. In 1888 Henry Eckford moved to Wem and established Eckford’s Nursery which specialised in sweet peas and now sweet pea lovers from all over the country visit Wem in July each year for the Eckford Sweet Pea Festival, organised by the Eckford Sweet Pea Society – and Wem has become the ‘Home of the Sweet Pea’.
There are over 70 classes of displays of sweet peas including formal vases, baskets, bowls, plants, floral art and a children’s section. The show includes a Society Stand with experts available to offer advice and answer sweet pea questions and seeds of pre 1910 Old Fashioned Sweetly Scented Varieties are available to purchase along with gardening accessories, plants, souvenirs, collectibles, and jewellery. There will also be crafts including a willow weaving demonstration (have a go).
Despite winning an award for ‘Midland Specialist Event of the Year 2014/15’ by Going Places, this may well be the last Eckford Sweet Pea Show as the society has failed to find new volunteers to join and help with running the event.
Eckford sweet peas have a beautiful fragrance – and I have also found them to be much easier to germinate than other varieties I have tried.
There were 7 puppies in the trailer – all clamouring for attention. They were different colours as their mother was a blue merle border collie – both parents were working dogs. I instinctively chose the one that looked most like my old Duke. I picked him up in my arms and was speechless. It had been so long since I had held a dog in my arms, it was a wonderful feeling, a dog of my own again. And this time, he would be living with me all the time. A permanent companion, sharing my life outside – but such a lot to learn first!
I asked what food he had been having – standard dried dog food mixed with milk (dairy farm dogs nearly always get milk with their food). I took a small amount of the dried food home with me. And we also had the paperwork for his microchip. Since April 2016 every puppy has to be microchipped and registered by 8 weeks of age.
I got the towels ready for the journey home – nearly two hours – he slept most of the way – but was sick three times. We finally got home and I found a old collar for him (he wasn’t terribly happy about having it round his neck – but he soon got used to it).
I expected him to wake in the night so I slept on the settee downstairs, surrounded by newspaper. He slept in the old cat basket which was just the right size. Surprisingly, he slept through the night. I took him out for a wee first thing in the morning – then he got back into bed with me.
The next night we made a bed for him on the floor in our bedroom and he slept on that. But subsequent nights he kept waking up – and waking us up – so he now sleeps on our bed – between us – and with his head on the pillow if he can possibly manage it!
I fed him on the dry food mixed with a bit of tinned food but he was sick every time he ate. He usually ate it all again, and second time around it stayed down. I asked advice from our local animal food supplier and Belinda said to feed him dried food soaked in water in small amounts at regular intervals. This generally worked and it was only if he ate something different – or too much at once – that he was sick.
His name was pre-ordained – as he looked like my old Duke – he became Duke II – and learned his name quite quickly, along with sit and stay.
Our garden is fairly secure but, from previous experience, if a border collie wants to get out – he will get through anything – so we had to watch him all the while. He had been brought up with hens in a farmyard so didn’t chase them – but Dillon the cockerel wasn’t terribly happy with this new addition to his domain.
Duke sniffed inquisitively at the rabbits – Lunar, mother rabbit with babies in the hutch – got quite cross at puppy sniffing at her and turned her back on him. Offended, he barked at her – she was not impressed!
Duke was used to hens – ducks were a different matter – and Duke was fascinated with these strange things – he wanted to investigate further – but of course they ran away when he went near. So this is going to take a bit of time. The ducks learned to keep out of his way – but Jasmine duck has just hatched 3 tiny ducklings so we’ve had to provide a secure pen – and Duke will have to have some lessons in looking after the ducks – my old Duke used to round up my ducks at night and put them to bed.
So, to our first walk in the field. The grass is quite high in places and Duke couldn’t see where he was going, so he followed ‘doggedly’ in my footsteps – until we reached the badger set – where the grass is shorter – and he started sniffing around. Then we had a dig in the sand by the rabbit holes – and he got sand all over his nose.
He’s now learned to fetch a ball – he will bring it back if he gets a treat. He still curls up in the cat basket – but he’s really too big for it now and ends up half in and half out of it.
Potty training is not going terribly well – he hasn’t got the hang of going to the toilet on newspaper so we’ve given that up – instead we take him outside every time he wakes up and after he’s eaten – but he still doesn’t seem to know the difference between inside and outside – and if it’s raining he really doesn’t want to go out – for a farm dog he’s certainly over-fond of his home comforts.
He loves serrano ham treats – and melon rind – and he’ll play for ages with a broad ben pod. He’s nearly wrecked the conservatory – I’ve had to move everything off the worksurfaces as he’s managed to climb up – somehow.
He’s had all his injections and we’ve been patiently waiting for the day we could go a proper walk – which was Thursday – but it hasn’t stopped raining since then! Made a mental note to remember the poo bags! Wonder how he’ll get on with other dogs?
Alongside the path at St. Just in Roseland Church in Cornwall there is a tablet of stone with the words: “There is great beauty in old trees, old streets and ruins old. Why should not I as well as these, grow lovely growing old?”
Fagus – the Beech Queen
And I often think of this verse when I look at this beautiful beech tree. It also makes me think of The Animals of Farthing Wood – who lost their homes when their tree was blown down – I can imagine birds and squirrels nesting in the branches and rabbits and mice living in the roots. And, in the breeze, the leaves make the wisha wisha sound of the Faraway Tree in Enid Blyton’s Enchanted Wood.
Beech trees were not as important to the Druids as oak trees but beech groves have been found in and near significant places of power – like the Cerne Abbas chalk giant – and at Avebury – where Tennyson’s description of the ‘serpent-rooted beech tree’ is particularly apt.
In Celtic mythology, Fagus was the god of beech trees. Beech is associated with femininity and thought of as the queen of British trees – whereas oak – Quercus – is the king.
The Druids frequently worshipped and practised their rites in oak groves and tree worship has always played a large role in Midsummer festivities with trees near wells and fountains traditionally decorated with coloured ribbons.
Quercus – the Oak King
The Oak King rules during the waxing of the year and represents strength, courage and endurance and the oak has always been particularly significant at Litha (the summer solstice). The Celtic name for oak is ‘Duir’ which means doorway – at midsummer we cross the threshold and enter into the waning part of the year – ruled by the Holly King – until the winter solstice at Yule.
You might think it’s a silly thing to do – but tree hugging really does make you feel better – even if it only makes you laugh because you feel silly hugging a tree! The larger the tree the better – because you need at least two people for a group hug!
Published in the June edition of the Whitchurch Gossip
When I was just a little girl – I saw a picture in an atlas of a magical place called the Giant’s Causeway – and ever since that day I wanted to go there. It took me nearly 60 years, but I finally stood on those hexagonal tablets of basalt and watched the waves washing over them – and they were just as magical as they first appeared to me in that picture book.
I don’t think I really believed that these hexagonal rocks existed – until I actually stood on them – and what I never anticipated was the waves crashing over them – surreal – all the people, clambering over the rocks – like lego bricks fitting together perfectly. The sun was setting as we left and I kept looking back over my shoulder at this magnificent landscape, remembering the last glimpses of this magical place – and the Irish legend that tells how it was made.
Once upon a time there was a mythical hunter-warrior called Fionn mac Cumhaill who grew angry with the Scottish Giant Benandonner because he kept attacking Ireland – so Fionn grabbed chunks of the Antrim coast and threw them into the sea forming a path so he could follow Benandonner and teach him a lesson. But Benandonner was so huge and terrifying that Fionn ran back home, closely followed by the giant. Our Irish hero was saved by his quick-thinking wife who disguised Fionn as a baby. When the angry Scot saw the baby, he stopped in his tracks, frightened of how big the baby’s father might be – and he fled back to Scotland, destroying the causeway behind him so Fionn could not follow. So Ireland was saved – but Fionn’s causeway remains – and across the sea there are identical columns (part of the same volcanic lava flow) at Fingal’s Cave on the isle of Staffa in Scotland.
The Giant’s Causeway is Northern Ireland’s first UNESCO Heritage Site. The 40,000 basalt stone columns were made by volcanic eruptions 60 million years ago. It is the most visited National Trust site.
Published in the May edition of the Whitchurch Gossip
Today’s Treasures – Winter is over and Spring has just begun
The celandines are sunning their golden faces, coltsfoot flowers are lifting their heads and opening their petals to the wintry sunshine and the frogs have finally woken up in the pond. The dawn chorus is back – the liquid notes of the blackbird serenading the sunrise, soon joined by all the other birds waking up and flexing their wings – they feast on the seeds on the bird table then they are off making nests, flying to and fro with beaks full of moss.
The robin has inspected the bird boxes – and investigated the apple tree – and now seems to have settled on building his nest in the Pampas grass – whilst the blackbird has made a big song and dance about building in the hedge – and finally decided on the ivy climbing over the weigela.
If we didn’t have so many cold, wet, windy, dismal, days in winter – we wouldn’t look forward quite so much to spring. It’s such a relief when the first snowdrops poke their heads through the frozen ground – then the primroses and hyacinths brighten up the winter borders, closely followed by the daffodils – crowds of them, fluttering and dancing in the breeze – as Wordsworth so aptly described them.
The cherry blossom is out in candyfloss clouds of pink and the first tiny crimson buds are showing on the apple blossom. Bees have woken up from their winter sleep and are busily investigating the spring flowers.
The scent of the first new mown grass is full of the promise of hot sunny lazy summer days full of sunshine.
Winter is over and spring has just begun …
Published in the April edition of the Whitchurch Gossip
March in Barbara’s Back Yard – Spring is Just Around the Corner
Spring is just around the corner – the celandines are sunning their golden faces, Coltsfoot flowers are lifting their heads and opening their petals to the wintry sunshine and the frogs have finally woken up in the pond again.
The broad beans I planted in December have mostly survived but don’t seem to have grown at all – and the ones I planted in pots a few weeks ago are about the same size – I planted them out this week – quite firmly – with news of the impending strong winds.
In between the showers, I have planted the first lot of onion sets but they don’t seem to be growing at all yet – obviously need some warmth before they get started.
This year I bought Eckford sweet pea seeds (which I found in D T Brown’s catalogue) – and I’ve had much better success with growing these than other varieties. In previous years, although I’ve always put them in the propagator, less than half have sprouted. If you pinch out the tips of sweet peas it encourages them to be more bushy.
The Eckford Sweet Pea was first bred in Shropshire – but it is named after the horticulturist, Henry Eckford who was born in 1823 in Edinburgh. In 1870 he was in charge of a garden at Sandywell in Gloucester and his employer encouraged his interest in breeding plants. When they moved to Boreatton in Shropshire, Dr. Sankey encouraged him further and he started the development of the Sweet Pea which had changed little since it was first introduced from Sicily in 1699. In 1888 Henry Eckford moved to Wem and established Eckford’s Nursery which specialised in sweet peas and now sweet pea lovers from all over the country visit Wem in July each year for the Eckford Sweet Pea Festival, organised by the Eckford Sweet Pea Society – and Wem has become the ‘Home of the Sweet Pea’.
And Eckford sweet peas seem to be much easier to germinate than other varieties I have tried.
I’ve also sown some herbs in pots – coriander, basil and parsley – and they have all germinated and I have moved them to the polytunnel as there is more light there than in the conservatory. Tomato seeds are now just sprouting in the propagator.
Daisy has started laying again – as soon as she goes broody – and stays on the nest at night – I will move her to a separate pen – and hopefully we might get some Dorking chicks this year.
I’ve now sold most of the NZWhite x Californian rabbits. There is still one white buck – and an adorable Californian buck who is so soft and so friendly I shall be sad to part with him – he will make a lovely pet. Lunar’s first litter are now 10 weeks old – 3 survived – two does and a buck. She has just mated again. With this litter I will make sure they all just have rabbit pellets – no mix and no apples – and hopefully they will all survive – although I can’t be sure it was different food that caused the upset to their digestive system. Dandelion is doing really well at 4 years old but I might need to think about getting a new buck soon.
So lovely to see all the spring flowers – daffodils and tulips, primroses and grape hyacinths – and to hear the frogs burbling in the pond again.
Everyone loves a good ghost story. In January, I gave a talk on folklore – myths, legends – and tales of witches, wizards, Druids, saints, fairies – and of course ghosts.
Did you know that Shropshire is one the most haunted counties? And with its timbered buildings and cobblestone alleys it is hardly surprising that Shrewsbury is believed to be one of the oldest and most haunted towns in the UK and that the dead are often seen walking among the living along its cobbled streets.
There’s that macabre painting in a room in the Nags Head that is said to be cursed – and allegedly caused the suicides of three people who slept in that room. No-one knows who painted it in such a strange place – or why – but their ghosts still haunt this 17th century coaching inn.
The Dun Cow is one of the oldest public houses in the UK – built by Roger de Montgomery, First Earl of Shrewsbury, around 1085 – it was a hostelry with its own brewery. A Dutch army officer was hung on the scaffold in the stables – but he is just one of the ghosts said to haunt this pub.
Shrewsbury castle is haunted by serial killer, Bloody Jack who was finally hung, drawn and quartered on Pride Hill; and the station has the ghost of a local councillor who was crushed when the roof collapsed over platform 3 in 1887.
Perhaps that’s why Shrewsbury also has a lot of saints, immortalised in its churches: St. Nicholas, St Chad, St. Alkmund, St. Mary, St. George, St. Peter and St. John.
St. Alkmund’s church is haunted by the spirit of a drunken 15th-century steeple jack who fell to his death after attempting to climb the church tower on a wager.
In 911, Aethelfleda, the ‘Lady of the Mercians’, believed that St. Alkmund, prince of Northumbria, was her ancestor, and she named the churches built at that time after him – at Aymestrey, Shrewsbury and Whitchurch – most likely all fortified towns on the route through Mercia from Gloucester to Chester – providing protection from marauding Danes.
The spire of the medieval church of St Mary’s – one of the tallest in England – has dominated the skyline of Shrewsbury’s old town for over 500 years. In 1739, showman Robert Cadman attempted to slide from it, head first, using a rope and a grooved breastplate. His engraved obituary stands outside the west door.
Published in the february edition of the Whitchurch gossip
Imbolc is a Gaelic festival marking the promise of spring. It is a celebration of the lengthening days and occurs halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. It corresponds to the Welsh ‘Mary’s Festival of the Candles’ and the Christian feast days of Saint Brigid and Candlemas.
The word Imbolc probably comes from the Old Irish Imbolc meaning ‘in the belly’ which refers to the pregnancy of ewes – as at this time of year we see new born lambs along with snowdrops and early spring bulbs.
Purification was an important part of Imbolc – with spring cleaning – and lighting of candles and fires – representing the return of warmth and the increasing power of the sun. People would visit holy wells and ask for good health whilst walking in a deosil (Gaelic sun-wise) direction around the well.
Robert Burns wrote the poem ‘Address to a Haggis’ which is what linked Burns and the haggis together forever – and Robert Burns became celebrated as the national poet of Scotland.
Burns suppers typically include haggis, Scotch whisky and the recitation of Burns poetry. They generally begin with the Selkirk Grace – so called because Burns was said to have delivered it at a dinner given by the Earl of Selkirk:
Some hae meat an canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.
After soup, everyone stands as the haggis is piped in, then comes the recital of Burns’ poem ‘the Address to a Haggis’. After a whisky toast to the haggis, the meal is served with tatties (potatoes) and neeps (swedes), followed by more toasts, speeches, songs and dancing, and concluding with Auld Lang Syne.
So why don’t we have a Shakespeare supper – to celebrate our great English poet?
Perhaps we should celebrate all our British poets along with Robert Burns on Burns Night. Drink a toast to them and eat tatties and neeps with our meat. Recite our favourite poems – and share the beauty of their words with our feast.
Squirrels can be a real nuisance – and they have wrecked some of my bird feeders. When we had a dog she used to chase them off. When she died, the cat took over responsibility and kept them away from the bird table. Now we are dog-less and cat-less (very sad walking down the pet food aisle in the supermarket – I try to avoid going down that aisle if I can!). So the squirrels are back. My sister bought me a little dish for Christmas – and we had some chestnuts left over from bonfire night – so I thought I would try putting out some nuts for the squirrels in the hope that they would leave my bird feeders alone!
It seems to be working – the squirrel comes to the chestnuts first – he sits and eats one, then runs off and hides one, then eats one, then buries one. And, so far, he’s left the bird feeders alone.
Today though he’s decided to bury the nuts in my rock garden – digging up the pansies in the process – so tomorrow I’ll put out a few less nuts and maybe he won’t bury so many….?