Today I was pruning out the demon canker from an old apple tree. This fungal disease is systematically munching through its aged branches. Although disfigured by this nibbling, it is blessed by a natty outfit comprising an assortment of lichen, including this one. North Devon has a lot of lichen. I am definitely not an expert (at or in anything) but I presume that our propensity in the South West to damp and mild weather is in the lichen’s favour. Our low levels of pollution also help. To further your education I have extensively researched (I googled “disc lichen” and scrolled down a bit) and have come up with Lecanora chlarotera as a possible identification. Unfortunately it doesn’t seem to have a common name. As the brown discs remind me of an octopus’s suckers I thought we could called it the Octopus Lichen. Apparently it is quite common. Not that I have noticed it before. Which is probably more to do with me than the lichen.
Losing Battle
There is a splendid multi-stemmed myrtle in Max’s garden. Cinnamon peeling limbs, glossy evergreen leaves, heady white blossom and bull’s eye berries; year long it gives joy. It would be perfect, if not for one flaw. Beneath its canopy, and further still, it flings its fruit densely and indiscriminately. These germinate like sturdy cress, pushing woody roots deep. Today was spent pulling these invaders from their nursery. However it is a losing battle. There is no doubt that they will return en masse, all in the blink of any eye. Some you win, some you lose. Happens from time to time. Just to remind us who is in charge.
Month
As I count down the days to my sabbatical month* I find myself feeling a little sad about the things I am going to miss. Like the early morning sun illuminating the dew on a succulent lampranthus.
* Actually the last week of December and the whole of January which of course, if we are going to be pedantic about it, is a little more than a month but who is counting? You are? Why I am not surprised? On reflection, there is a very good chance that it is indeed a month to the Lizard People of Jupiter or perhaps the Ents or even the Clangers, which in my book still counts and I am, after all, making the rules.
Late on Parade
Salvia elegans, otherwise known as Pineapple Sage, is late to the garden parade. Only in the last few weeks has it come into its own. Dithering throughout the summer and early autumn, holding back with dramatic flourish until early winter. Now many of its rivals are long passed, leaving a gap in the market for attention. With velour napped scarlet flowers and fragrant foliage, it has been most welcome to both hungry pollinator and colour starved gardener.
Six on Saturday – Abridged Version
Bit rushed so here is abridged version of SoS.
Cheers Mr P – check him out.
No. 1 – Respect
No. 2 – New old pots
No. 3 – Now? Are you serious?
No. 4 – Broken primulas
No. 5 – Garlic shoot, no poo
No. 6 – Single Sophora
Adios ’til next time!
Ice and Fire
The polar caps are receding at a terrifying rate. I think I know where all the ice has gone, my fridge. Today was the day of the big defrost. This needs to be done so we can fit some food into it for the Christmas period. Something has gone amiss. Not only is the freezer ice-bound, so is my fridge. In fact there may be more ice in the fridge than in the freezer. Possibly a gumbletock has blown. Or the like. A shiny new (properly regulated) appliance is planned for the new year, until then we will have to make do. With no exaggeration (moi?), so frostbound is my fridge-freezer that members of the British Museum are standing by in case I uncover a woolly mammoth in its icy depths.
In the past few weeks I have been attempting to empty the freezer, all that was left was a tub of Madagascan vanilla ice cream and a bag of peas. These I gave to the safe-keeping of my neighbour. Now I am wondering if I should have got a receipt. For the peas. She would never eat the ice cream. Surely.
Whilst the slow thaw proceeded, I thought I would try my hand at making some crystallised ginger. After a little research, thanks Admin Annie, I found a couple of recipes on line. Really it didn’t look too tricky. As I haven’t shared any of my recipes for a while, I thought this the ideal opportunity, think of it as an early Christmas present.
As always, the recipe is in normal font, my interpretation in italics.
Crystallised Ginger
Ingredients:
300g of ginger and 300g of granulated sugar
Eeeek! That doesn’t sound very healthy. Choose to ignore the fact.
Method:
Peel ginger using a spoon
You are joking right? A spoon? OK, I’ll give it a go. Actually this working out quite well. Who would have thought it? Smells lovely.
Slice thinly with a mandolin
A mandolin? I may have a tin whistle somewhere, but not sure I have any stringed instrument at all. I am going to go off piste here and use a knife and be really really careful. Most pieces seem to be quite thin and even. The odd bit is a little rustic. Rustic is good, right?
Place in heavy based pan, cover with water and simmer for 30 minutes until tender
Heavy based pan. The pan I have will have to do, heavy or not. Simmering. All is well. Set alarm. Realise I have to pop up the post box so turn the hob off, just in case. Return in the blink of an eye. Turn the cooker back on. Might have lost a couple of minutes. Check fridge, little change. Keep simmering ginger. Stab after 35 minutes. Tough as shoe leather. Turn up a bit. Check fridge, might take a while. Complete a 1,000 piece jigsaw. Check ginger again, what exactly is tender? Test a little. Ouch. Who wrote this recipe? Fridge still Narnia. Read War and Peace. Check ginger, surely that will do, getting bored now. Remember why I am not a home baker.
When tender, drain ginger and weigh, reserving a little of the water. Return to the pan with the same weight in sugar and three tablespoon of cooking liquor.
Did exactly as instructed, except I added a bit less sugar and more water.
Bring to the boil and stir often until translucent.
It is boiling away nicely, although perhaps I shouldn’t have added the extra water. Why did I do that? Idiot. Check fridge. Shackleton would have felt at home. Oops better stir. Looking hopeful.
Turn heat down and stir continually until almost dry.
Almost dry, what does that mean? I know, it means, until you lose the will to live. What do I do now? Bit of a gap in the instructions. Luckily I am an expert at making things up as I go along. I will turn it out onto baking parchment (still a mystery as to why I possess any of this stuff) and spread it out until cool.
When cool dust with more sugar.
No I won’t, so there!
The End
The fridge is still not done. The mummified half lemon has been extracted and disappointingly the British Museum are singularly uninterested.
The ginger is rather lovely, extremely fiery. I have forgotten about all that sugar already.
Hibernation
I’ve decided to go into hibernation for a little while. I will be in a reconditioned badger sett, lined with cosy blankets and well stocked with good books, fine gin and cheese and onion crisps. No dramas, no problems, no worries. See you soonish!
Meanwhile here is the amazing Fuchsia arborescens for your admiration.
Excuses
Taking photos in bad weather is challenging. At the best of times I am an inveterate speedy snapper. My theory is that the more photos taken, the more likely at least one will be in focus. When it is raining this procedure cranks up a gear. I wrestle my camera from beneath layers of waterproofs, point it in the general direction of the subject, press the button a couple of times, return it to the relative safety of its pouch and hope for the best. Heuchera ‘Palace Purple’ was one of today’s better results. Bearing in mind the incessant mist, mizzle, drizzle and torrential rain, I think it worked out quite nicely.
Now I have to find an excuse for the poor fine weather photos ….
Six on Saturday – Letters
Here we are again, happy as can be, all good friends and jolly good company. That’s right, it is Six on Saturday time again. For anyone who has spent the last year lost in The Empty Quarter, or perhaps has been undertaking a silent vigil in a monastery somewhere deep in the Himalayas, and have missed this phenomenon, then I will explain what it is all about. A certain gentleman called The Propagator has cast a spell over an increasing number of us innocent mortals. It is not confined to the UK, his power extends across the globe and I have an inkling, even further. This enchantment compels us to share six things that we find in our gardens every Saturday. The only way to escape is if you have a note from your mum, a consultant surgeon or Gandalf. As I haven’t managed to get any of these folk to co-operate this week, here are my SoS. By the way, pop over to Mr P’s blog where you can not only read his contribution, but also those from his other captives.
First we have a hydrangea. In the summer this shrub is a cheerful cherry red, small in stature but perfectly formed. In early autumn it darkens to a deep maroon and now, as the gales have battered and desiccated, it has begun to turn the colour and texture of cornflakes (pre-milk).
Last week I planted some garlic in this trug. It was a little later than I had planned to, but that is the way it goes in my world. To some this container, with its invitingly soft compost, might look like a litter tray. Yes, Fat Ol I’m looking at you! Hence the sticks.
A genera that has (not literally) grown on me is the pittosporums. We have one in the front garden, it was in place when we arrived. Luckily it is the diminutive Pittosporum tenuifolium ‘Tom Thumb’ and has barely grown in the ten years we have been here. Its glossy burgundy leaves, frill edged, are especially welcome in the winter months.
This variegated oleander rarely flowers. It produces buds which just sit there waiting for some appropriate Mediterranean weather to open. Which is extremely optimistic. However it does over-winter outside with no extra protection. Perhaps I should I say “so far”, I am a demon for tempting fate.
Last Christmas I gave this little bug hotel to my OH, in reality is it more bijou B&B than Hilton. Every so often I have a peer into it to see if anyone is in residence. Other than a few spiders, I haven’t seen anyone yet. Perhaps the leering human is putting them off.
Last of all is the wonderful Vinca ‘Jenny Pym’. The moment I set my eyes on this periwinkle, on a garden visit a couple of years ago, I was smitten. Once I found a specimen and planted it out, I duly forgot all about her. This is my fickle nature. That is until this morning. I see that she has done very nicely without my continuing doting.
Thanks again Mr P, for keeping us in order. Now how about a letter from The Pope? Does that count?
Style
I had a little helper in the garden today. Such style. A gal after my own heart.
Off The Edge Gardening 