What seemed a slight stretch/stiffening a the time of the last post (cue bugle) deteriorated to something rather more severe. I was in a lot of pain over dinner and even worse the next morning. A day of limited movement followed. Nurse Lyra assisted greatly. I stuck to my exercises, just, and managed a little walk but most of the day was spent reading and consuming cheesy wotsits. I’d had Butter in my “to be read pile” for a while so decided to make the most of the enforced rest. What an excellent book – would highly recommend it, though perhaps not if you are dieting. I was more mobile the following day, though still struggling with the getting in and out of, and, if I am honest, sitting comfortably in, seats. However, on one tentative tour of the garden I discovered that the patio chairs were much easier to manage (the arms were a big help). A bit of a switcheroo between the kitchen chairs and the dining room carvers meant that dinner yesterday was a tad more convivial than the previous night’s in bed sandwich on a plate. It seems likely that all this was self inflicted by over stretching to put my surgical socks on myself. I am now banned from independent sockage and Keith has taken over. His technique is coming on well and, in no time, I am sure he will be able to don the seamed silk numbers himself and strut down Coldstream high street for the entertainment of the lieges. Actually, he’s being rather a dear about it all.
On my travels yesterday, I noticed that our rambling curate (*natural child of rambling rector and veilchenblau) is flowering prettily and absolutely covered in buds. The Queen of Denmark is also going great guns and much improved from the hard prune she took after falling off the wall last year. I felt not a little relief at the thought that I have a cast iron excuse for not getting up the ladder to deadhead. My favourite roses at the moment though are the yellow ones at the front of the house. They smell lovely and I just adore their scrunched up faces which make me think of Persian cats. Pot pourri stocks were all used up last year so once the rainy spell passes I’ll definitely be getting onto collection and drying big style (or press ganging mum into it).
I met a hedgehog taking its own good time to cross the drive as part of one of my laps. It was in no hurry but as I was even slower, there is no close up! It scooted into the hedge before I got remotely near enough. I was very glad to see it though. I’ve quite a few of the delphinium I grew from Raymond’s seed in the long border beside that hedge and the more slugs and snails Hedgey McHedge takes out the better as far as I am concerned. All along the back track the hardy geranium are beginning to regain their mojo since the rainy season started. Blue Magnifico (the bees’ favourite) has recovered the best; my usually thuggish pink ones are still somewhat spindly. I’m thinking, though, that I might thin these out anyway, to make space for more lupins and get more height variation, so perhaps a useful spur to action. (Not being able to get down and do all the weeding and other jobs presenting themselves as I go round, I’m trying to take a longer view and think about things that need moving or tweaking. I really could do with a handy amanuensis running after me taking notes for future reference. However, no one has applied for the role as yet…..)
Today was rainy and an initial walking tour was curtailed by a downpour. With my new prudent hat on I resolved not to try the stepping stones in the rain. Not wanting to seize up though, I stayed on my feet and made fig rolls to general satisfaction. Keith wondered if they were too short given the cracks but I think this was just a case of slightly overchilling before rolling. They were, as I explained, artisanal. I slightly adjusted my usual recipe, (adding an extra yolk as the eggs were small, an ounce of mixed peel to supplement the figs to enhance the citrus notes of Keith’s excellent port and lemon marmalade and tweaked the spicing by restricting to ground clove and ground cardamon (about half a teaspoon of each)). It doesn’t do to always to stick rigidly. In the spirit of Butter, find what is right for you…
Beautiful roses and peonies. Keep up the recovery 👏👏