Time for planting onion sets and chitting potatoes.
Onion sets are basically partly grown onions – but most gardeners find them so much easier and quicker to grow that they buy these tiny onion bulbs, plant them in February – or as soon as the ground is workable – and by June they have usually grown into good size onions ready to eat.
Egg trays are ideal for storing onions until you are ready to plant them – and also for ‘chitting’ potatoes – this means putting them in a light, frost free place rose end upwards so they can begin to sprout while you wait for the right time for planting.
No-one ever really explained to me what the ‘rose end’ of a potato was but I have eventually discovered that it’s the opposite end to the ‘stalk’ end – where the potato was attached to the mother plant. So one end will have one mark with sometimes a tiny bit of stalk attached –and the other end with several marks where the new sprouts (chits) will grow from. Sometimes it’s extremely difficult to tell the difference – but if you put them out in trays, they will begin to sprout –and you can soon see whether you have put them the right way up!
Spring is in the air – the frogs have awoken from their winter sleep
I woke up this morning expecting to hear the dawn chorus, instead there was a gentle burbling floating in through the open window – the frogs were back in the pond – a sure sign of Spring. Later in the year, there’s sometimes a frog or two croaking in the shallows on the edge of the pond, but, this time of year, they make a soothing gurgling sound. I love to sit in the sunshine by the pond with a cup of tea and count the frogs – if I sit really still they bob up to the surface one by one and peer at me between the kingcup leaves.
When we first moved in there were no fish in the pond but lots of frogs – and one or two newts – and the frogspawn soon became tadpoles that turned into tiny froglets. Now we have goldfish and they eat most of the tadpoles so there are very few tiny frogs tp terrify with the lawnmower – we used to have to mow the lawn so slowly to give them chance to get out of the way!
Today’s Treasures – Snowdrops – Tiny Pearls of Springtime
The days are getting longer and the first flowers of the year are peeping through Autumn’s fallen leaves – snowdrops – tiny pearls of springtime, creeping towards the light; frosts may wither them but their fragile stems soon revive in the sunshine, they shake their petals free of winter and their tiny white bells tremble in the spring breeze.
Snowdrop Walks mark the start of the season for many of our historic houses and there are lots of early spring walks through snowdrop-dappled woodland. Rode Hall, just over the North Shropshire border, has a wonderful display of snowdrops set in enchanting woodland.
The snowdrop trail begins alongside neatly manicured lawns overlooked by a picturesque combination of unusual mature trees, through formal rose gardens, heavenly scented in summer but now lying dormant waiting for the first rays of the summer sun.
Through the gap in the hedge, a whole new vista opens out and you enter a wild woodland star spangled with snowdrops roaming unchecked, under the trees, along the brook, scrambling around the shrubs and bushes that decorate the landscape, and you can find a bench, or perch on a stone bridge, and merge with the magic of the trees, serenaded by robins and blackbirds and soothed by the sound of the stream bubbling over stones, watched by myriads of tiny snowdrop faces, studying their reflections in the water.
Rode Hall is open from Saturday, 4th February to Sunday 5th March (except Mondays) for snowdrop escapades for all the family (including dogs – on leads). The tearoom is open serving light lunches and you can warm up by the logburner with a welcome pot of tea and homemade cakes. The art exhibition in the barn is well worth a visit, showcasing creations by local artists – and not all of the paintings feature snowdrops! www.rodehall.co.uk
In the Druid calendar Snowdrops heralded Spring and first appear at Imbolc – celebrated on 31st January and 2nd February (Candlemas Day).
There are snowdrops walks all over Shropshire, including Combermere Abbey, Attingham Park, and Dudmaston Hall.
The Snowdrop Fairy
Deep sleeps the Winter
Cold, wet, and grey;
Surely all the world is dead;
Spring is far away.
Wait! the world shall waken;
It is not dead, for lo,
The Fair Maids of February
Stand in the snow!
January is such a dismal month – although the days are getting longer it doesn’t feel like it and, after the expense and excitement of Christmas, with summer a distant memory, we need to cheer ourselves up, so it’s really important to focus on the good things in life and make the most of them. My mum was always one for counting her blessings and it certainly helps on dark January days to remember that the evenings are getting lighter and spring is just around the corner. There are some beautiful sunsets on dark winter days and when the sun does come out there’s some lovely places in Shropshire to go and feed the ducks.
Whittington Castle is just one of them. There is free public access to the castle all year round and the ducks always give you a warm welcome, especially if you have some bread or corn with you!
The Tea Room and the book shop are open November to February -Thursday to Sunday 10.00 am – 4.00 pm.
We spent a lovely time wandering around the castle and reading about its history. The site was chosen in the time of King Offa because of the protection provided by the treacherous marshlands surrounding Whittington. The original wooden castle was replaced by a Norman motte and bailey and the castle is steeped in folklore, inhabited by the ghostly spirits of ancient warriors and victims of treachery suffered within its walls.
The castle is now owned and run by the local community who organise many events during the year, the largest being a Medieval 3 day event on the May Bank Holiday weekend www.whittingtoncastle.co.uk
After exploring the castle and successfully avoiding being harassed by ghosts, we escaped to the bookshop and spent a very entertaining hour discovering several interesting fiction and non-fiction books which we perused in the tea shop over a very welcome cup of tea (and cakes!) A very pleasant afternoon out.
Sometimes, our very British weather can be very surprising. We had planned a day at the beach for ages but for one reason or another it kept being delayed until finally, it was on Halowe’en that we set off for the coast.
It was a beautiful drive through Llangollen – the sun reflecting all the autumn colours, russet reds, green, gold and amber; we stopped for a cup of coffee at Lake Bala and went a walk along the edge of the lake enjoying all the colours reflected in the water. The sun was shining and there was hardly a breath of wind to ripple the surface of the lake. Then we drove on through the rolling hills and watery dales of Snowdonia to Barmouth – and found the toilets! Barmouth was unreal, the sun was so warm it felt like a hot summer’s day but, as it was nearly winter, Barmouth was pretty deserted. The few people that were about were sitting outside café’s sipping tea and basking in the warm sunshine.
After lunch, we meandered along the beach, picking up pebbles and paddling at the edge of the waves. Two cups of tea later, we were on our way again heading for Shell Island. We found the car park and wandered over the sand dunes to the beach.
Last time we came here the wind was howling a gale and we had our coats zipped up to our noses. Today, there wasn’t a breath of wind and we stripped down to T-shirts, bare arms soaking up the sun. It was almost warm enough to sunbathe. The waves lapped onto the beach, seagulls soared lazily above us, and the sand glistened in the sunshine.
Shoes off, we paddled through the waves, a restful, tranquil way to unwind, feeling the sand between our toes and the waves lapping around our feet.
By this time, the sun was going down and we could feel the Autumn chill creep into the air, so donning jumpers and coats again, we set off back down the beach and across the sand dunes to the welcoming warmth of the car and tea and biscuits.
For my birthday this year we purchased joint (senior!) membership of English Heritage. One of the first places we chose to visit was Boscobel House in Shropshire – where Charles II famously hid in an oak tree after his defeat at the battle of Worcester in 1651.
You can visit an oak tree that grew from an acorn from that very famous Royal Oak tree. You can also see the priest’s hole in Boscobel House where Charles II subsequently hid.
It was a beautiful sunny autumn day. We declined the guided tour and meandered through the house and gardens on our own, through hazel avenues and around lavender and box formal flowerbeds. The house has some wonderful old beams and floorboards and there are magnificent views over the surrounding countryside. The dairy is very well equipped with ancient equipment, milk pails, enamel jugs, wooden butter churns, memories of a by-gone age when everything was painstakingly done by hand.
By this time, we had worked up quite an appetite so, before embarking on the 20 minute walk to White Ladies Priory (which actually took our ambling gait well over half an hour!), we decided to treat ourselves to a late breakfast. The café is installed in the old stable block and we enjoyed delicious real bacon sandwiches and a proper cup of tea in china cups, poured from a china teapot.
Thus fortified, we set off the find the priory. The path goes along the edge of the fields alongside the road so we made a mental note to walk back on the easier terrain of the tarmac. The priory must have been magnificent in its time (built in the 12th century). As you can see from the pictures some impressive archways of the church remain – after the suppression of the monasteries most of the convent buildings were taken down. We imaged the nuns (Augustinian canonesses who wore habits of undyed cloth) at morning prayers, growing herbs, peacefully tending the gardens and watching the sun set on the Shropshire/Staffordshire border.
2 tsp of dried mixed herbs or, ideally, chopped fresh herbs as follows:
1 tsp basil
1 tsp parsley
½ tsp thyme
½ tsp oregano
½ tsp marjoram
1lb rough puff pastry (frozen or you can make your own)
Flour for rolling out pastry
1 egg, beaten
Poppy or sesame seeds
Thoroughly mix the sausagemeat, onions, mushrooms and herbs.
Sausage Rolls Roll out the pastry to an oblong about 5 mm thick. Spread the sausagemeat in a long roll down the centre of the pastry. Brush one edge of the pastry with beaten egg, fold over the pastry to form a long roll.
Cut the roll into 35mm lengths and place on a baking sheet lined with baking paper. Brush the rolls with beaten egg.
Cut small slits in the pastry with scissors and sprinkle with poppy or sesame seeds.
Sausage Plait Roll out the pastry to a rectangle. Mark into thirds lengthways. Spread sausagemeat evenly over middle third.
Cut pastry either side into strips (see photo) and fold strips alternately over sausagemeat to form a plait. Seal ends with left over strips, brush with beaten egg and sprinkle with seeds.
Bake in oven 230C (220C fan oven) for 10-15 minutes until the sausagemeat is cooked (maybe a little longer for sausage plait).
Pastry:
8 oz (250g) flour
6 oz butter or butter/lard
Water for mixing
Rub 4 oz of the butter into the flour until it looks like breadcrumbs.
Add water and mix to rolling out consistency.
Roll out pastry to a strip, mark into 3 and spread rest of fat on one third in small pats. Fold into 3, roll out gently to a strip again and fold into 3, then roll out to the shape required.
Any sort of rose hips will do – all are edible – but I used all wild rose hips. Cultivated roses have bigger rose hips. You can pick rose hips in batches and freeze them – in fact, tradition advises gathering rose hips after a frost. The reason is that the frost breaks down the cell walls of the fruit, thereby giving more liquid once the fruit is cooked. But hips are much easier to pick when they are hard – not squishy – so freezing them for 24 hours is a much better idea.
Rose hips contain a lot of vitamin C – but this is easily destroyed by heat so most recipes suggest cooking the hips/pulp twice over for a very short amount of time.
(1 kg) rose hips, minced (I chopped them in batches using the chopper/grinder device with my mixer).
(3 litres) water
500g sugar – brown or white
Mince rose hips then put immediately into 2 litres of boiling water. Bring to the boil again then remove from the pan and leave for at least 15 minutes. Strain through a jelly bag/muslin/linen (I used an old cotton pillow slip placed in a sieve over a bowl). Leave to allow most of the juice to drip through.
Reserve juice and put pulp back into the saucepan with 1 litre of boiling water. Reboil briefly and then leave to stand for 15 minutes – as before – pour into the (same) jelly bag and leave to drip through.
Because rose hips have fine hairs that are a serious irritant, I always strain again to make absolutely sure I have removed them all. So strain again through a clean piece of muslin or pillow slip folded over in a sieve.
Pour the strained rose hip juice into a large saucepan, add 500g sugar, heat slowly and stir until dissolved. Bring to the boil and boil for 3 minutes. Pour into warm sterilised bottles* and seal and label.
Use within 4 months and refrigerate once opened.
*To sterilise bottles and tops, wash in warm soapy water and rinse well, then put on a tray in a low oven (120°C Gas ½) to dry out and heat up.
Rose Hip Syrup has a unique taste – described as ‘warm, floral and fruity’ on the River Cottage website. I quite like it poured neat onto ice cubes – like a liqueur. It’s also good with lemonade and as a hot toddy diluted with hot water. It’s very high in vitamin C (rosehips contain twenty times more vitamin C than you find in oranges) – ideal for keeping winter coughs and colds away. During the war – when there were no oranges – children were given rose hip syrup from the Ministry of Health and even after the war, as a child, my mother gave me a teaspoonful of neat rosehip syrup every day.
“Calling at: Machynlleth, Caersws, Aberystwyth, Borth, Dovey Junction, Harlech.” Shrewsbury station – travelling on the train to Birmingham I have often wished to be going the other way to these strange-sounding names by the sea. Today my wish has come true and we are getting the train to Harlech and travelling through the Welsh hillsides, along the coast to visit Harlech Castle.
The train pulls out of Shrewsbury station and soon we are passing cornfields, golden in the early morning sunshine, some of the wheat has been cut leaving bales, straw blocks, dotted around the fields like faceless dominoes. Other fields have plastic wrapped silage bales, scattered like alien larvae; gone are the days of haystacks that we used climb up and slide down, landing in a giggling heap, then scrambling up for another ride.
It’s not long before we arrive at Welshpool, the trees and bushes grow so close to the train tracks that they sometimes brush the windows, then the rails rise above the surrounding countryside and reveal magnificent views stretching to distant hills, the foothills of misty mountains beyond. The tracks are patterned in pink and yellow with willowherb and ragwort – and Himalayan Balsam, an alien invader from another part of the world that smothers everything in its path but still our native bees love it and it makes beautiful honey. We pass Welshpool Cattle market, the empty car park waiting for market day – sheep, cattle and pigs all arriving to be sold on – for breeding – or butchers. Then on to Caersws, past the coal merchants, cars waiting at the level crossing for the train to pass.
Grassy churchyards, isolated standing stones, relics of an ancient past, of others that have lived and died without seemingly leaving a mark. The landscape becomes wilder, fields criss-crossed with hedges, tiny foals stretched out lazily in the sun, sustained by mother’s milk, they have no need to constantly chew the grass. Scalped, a hill devoid of trees, ferns shrinking from the sunlight, with no respite until the saplings grow again, shading, cooling the earth beneath. Bracken, meadowsweet, willowherb, lining the tracks, viaducts crossing deep valleys, rocky streams tumbling down hillsides to valleys below, bounding towards the sea. Anticipation mounting as the children become aware that the train is nearing its destination and the seaside is imminent.
The river meanders through the fields leaving shingly beaches and deep pools on the bends, under the willows where pike and perch are lurking, stalking unsuspecting minnows darting from the shallows.
Then the train travels right along the edge of the sea, the waves breaking along the shore, to the Barmouth estuary, the railway bridge crossing the river – with magnificent views out to sea and inland to Snowdonia.
Until we finally reach our destination – Harlech castle towering above us, guarding the coast and watching over Snowdonia, history unfolds within its towers and castellated walkways.
Trains travel this route regularly from Shrewsbury to Pwllheli and you can alight, wander around one of the places en route and hop back on the next train home. A great day out!
What a surprise! One damp and dreary early Autumn morning I stumbled out to feed the chickens and was suddenly stunned wide awake by this beautiful bright blue flower positively glowing – Morning Glory! It’s supposed to be really easy to grow but I nurtured tiny seedlings that struggled to survive and, when I finally planted them out they just sat there and refused to climb up the bamboo wigwam – until I got bored waiting and forgot all about them – until this morning! Every morning since there have been new flowers – they love the early mornings and close up later in the day – hence the name. It’s a type of convolvulus – our native white version can be a troublesome weed as it chokes other plants – hence its common name – bindweed. All of the plant is poisonous as it contains tropane alkaloids – especially the seeds – but this flower certainly brightened up my morning.
