“At last, six hours undisturbed sleep and I feel myself rising from the deep to draw breath. Astonishing the difference it makes. I am feeling, incongruously, rather like Bambi, wobbly in the legs but with a mind to skip.” So I typed deliriously on the sunny morning after Keith’s birthday bash. Alas, events intruded and I am returning to the laptop a few days further on and the Disney movie has definitely changed. The decent weather managed only a two day cameo appearance and my sleep pattern has reverted somewhat but, like the Curate’s egg, at least it is now good in parts… This, combined with the aftermath of the two huge celebratory family dinners that accompanied the gathering of the clans for the big 70, plus this morning’s epic inter-continental ballistic breakfast (basically a deli’s worth of cooked meat, cheese, olives, paté, bread, pastries and conserves) to see Pinky and Perky (as Ishbel and Martin have become known) on their way, has left me a tad liverish. I am possibly now, if not Eyeore, definitely a bit more of a Sleepy dwarf than a Bambi! The other denizens of Ruthven are not much better for their carousing and we are retrenching. Lachlan has taken himself to Edinburgh for essays and detox and the rest of us (humans) have three days of abstinence before the arrival of the Rugby 7’s party crowd and the essential pre, post and post post match dinners. Lyra has taken a look at the weather and declared short walks just what’s needed. The cats have reoccupied Ishbel’s room (from which she selfishly evicted them) and made it plain that they shift again for no-one. (When Bob and Ann arrive on Friday we shall leave them to fight it out.) The coos, they are a mooing and somehow we need to unstick the manger from the mud to get a new bale of hay in tomorrow…..
Enough kvetching. With my newfound, if brief, Bambiness, Mum and I went for a spin around the Hirsel woods on Saturday. They are mighty muddy, but I’m so glad we braved it. There were billows of blackthorn, a sea of anemones and carpets of primroses, cowslips and oxlips. The swans were also having a perky moment in the brand new pop-up paddling pool beside the lake. This put me properly in the mood for the garden and I set to on my return. I have now potted up all the survivors from the saved dahlias (very much less than half I’m afraid), taken a raft of chrysanthemum cuttings and sown a good few more seed. (Actually I am feeling a bit bad about those as it was so miserable outside today that after the very wet dog walk I never mustered the courage to schlep down to the greenhouse. I hope nothing’s too wilty…I will definitely get on the case first thing.). I also divided and potted up the very congested chunk of “Blackheath Agapanthus” gifted by London Anne (I gave her a puny effort when we left Blackheath and, under her care, it has since outgrown an enormous pot). I may have got a bit carried away and I think there are now over ten pots of smaller bits. It is not clear where they will go….The view from the greenhouse through the nuttery is especially pretty at the moment, with loads of anemone and white fritillaria and nicely bulking up clumps of yellow Pagoda erythronium. If anyone out there is looking for bulbs for soggy patches look no further.
Sunday brought sunshine so Lachlan and I decided to combine the collection of potting compost with a walk along part of St Cuthbert’s way. As it transpires we picked the only place in the Borders with a rain cloud, but before the downpour we had a lovely walk. There was wild garlic everywhere. I filled a bag with leaves on the way back and made garlic butter and garlic pesto. The remainder is earmarked for a garlicky potato soup when I’ve made stock from the bones of the very garlicky roast chickens we ate on Saturday night. I may have got slightly distracted in the garden centre when I popped in for the compost. Luckily, whilst I filled the trolley Lachlan was mesmerised by the fish. I managed, just, to convince him that a sturgeon (they can grow considerably bigger than a three seater sofa) was overly ambitious. However, it was clear that Project Fish was underway. After an education in matters piscine at the pub that night whilst I ran around like a loon making dinner Keith was, apparently, talked into a selection of red and blue orfe. I am thinking of names….
With the sun out on Monday as well, Lachlan and I took Lyra round the riverside where there are glorious clouds of cuckoo flowers (possibly the most romantic member of the cabbage family). Lachlan solved all of the problems of the NHS and I nodded. On returning, I resisted the prospect of a lunchtime pint on our return “with the lads” and instead gleefully gathered my tools to plant up the rather large collection of alpines that had somehow fallen into my trolley at the garden centre. Bliss. I had a few plants left over and so a little wander round looking for spaces was in order. It was amazing how the two half day’s of sun had brought everything on. The back track of the banana bed, where I have white daffodils is definitely looking its best. I became totally distracted, nosing everywhere to see what had survived the soggy weather and the family was only saved from dinner at midnight by the shower of rain that finally forced me in at six.
