The Hipster Diaries #6 – the short road to freedom

Today I escaped. I had a trial run at the tunnel yesterday and went all in today. A proper dog walk at last…..along the back road and then down towards Kersfield. Not all the way, Mum was getting distinctly “one egg clucky”, but far enough to demonstrate it was fine and operate as a bulkhead for further explorations. As a sop to mission control, I took my stick, but largely tucked it under my arm like a sergeant major, occasionally twirling it for effect.

Oh it was lovely to be meandering down the road again, admiring the flowers and failing to identify the butterflies (the very fluttery, camera shy type, being much in evidence). It will soon be meadowsweet harvesting time. Tightly budded sprays are pushing up all along the verges under flat plates of hogweed flowers, the ranks of willow herb beginning to muster just behind. There are crazy spike balls of water aven seedheads bobbing above soft custard yellow fingers of crosswort and here and there a flash of blue vetch emerging from a grey-green tangle. I have not missed all the flowers it seems. In a moment of triumph I realised that, looking at a cluster of yellow agrimony spears I actually remembered their name first time – usually I have a blank spot for that little flower and spend half the walk trying out different options (This is possibly a consolation gift from the gods of memory for my having forgotten the title of Mansefield Park for the last week – I had to resort to Legal/Gardening Twitter for the answer..). Just past Keith the Slater’s, we turned down and went a little way towards the bottom fields, along a track overgrown with clover. It was a mass of bees and butterflies and, just at the top of a rise, a brown hare was sitting, stock still. She watched us for a beat before taking off. I saw two others in the middle of the pea field watching us intently as we passed on. Further excitement was provided by a startled hen pheasant but Lyra bumbled about in blithe unconcern, enjoying the long grass. Despite some reluctance to come out for a walk at all, she seemed almost aggrieved when rain stopped play and I conceded the need to return.

By the time we were home, a soft mizzle had intensified to a thoroughgoing soak, but the easy on, easy off wide legged invalid trousers acquired in one of my many consolation internet shops (Rapanui – they do enticing, self justifying, “bundles”) dried off in no time. These are clear candidates for repurposing as summer walking strides once I am back at full speed. Sheila the postie had been in our absence, so Mum and I had several carpet samples and a pile of new books to gloat over whilst a batch of scones baked. I tentatively raised the prospect of driving with Keith, given the walking was going so swimmingly, but this was shot down firmly – so the back lane and environs it shall be for a few weeks. I shall not quibble. Much. Anyway it’s physio tomorrow and I am perversely looking forward to it.

I’m returning to this post after a brief pause for coffee and Not-Lardy Cake (which is a total winner – am already toying with new Not Lardy variants.) Conversation over the break revolved around the bizarre life of the witch sole fish (that we are having for dinner, it being fish van lady day). This is a flat fish that starts life like a normal upright, planktony baby fish swimming around, checking out the waves, then its left eye migrates over the top of its head and it proceeds as a right eyed (dextral) flatfish. I mean where to start…. Following further investigation I discover there are also left eyed fish (sinistral). So halibut are right eyed and turbot left eyed. Mind blown, I then discover that there is a Cornish sole called a megrim. Now I always knew “the megrims” as low spirits or a malign whim, so I wondered if megrims were depressing fish. But no – they both come from the same root as migraine – ultimately from the greek for “half skull” – semikranos. Now tell me what is not to love about this….

Anyway, moving right along, the garden’s still looking lovely and colourful, in a slightly overblown and blousy way. Mid season hemerocallis are starting to come out and there are lots of smouldering tones from calendula and the ever faithful garnet penstemon. My dried rose petals stocks are coming along nicely so, absent any unexpected confetti requirements) in late summer, you’ll all be inflicted with pot pourri at Christmas….