Where are we Noo?

Foraging seems like the distant past. Growing has become the future, though it’s a very life limiting future if it were to be relied upon. My mum and grandpa were excellent growers. I’m fairly sure it hasn’t past on to me. Although there are signs of some natural ability. My 2 most impressive tomato plants (apart from the ones my neighbour gave me) sprouted from the 18 year old compost I’d been nurturing/ignoring until I finally braved removing the dalek-like structure recently to see if there was anything in there other than mice and slime. The tomato plants appeared in pots where I’d used the compost for herb seeds. This is the most productive thing to come out of the dalek since the Environmental Group left it on my doorstep and Spook popped out of it just as I was about to lift the lid. He thought it was very funny but I nearly burst into tears.
If only it were just about sticking seeds in the earth.

It took me a few days to trap young Peter, here, who was having a lovely time in the privacy of the poly tunnel, nibbling on lettuce, radishes and spring onions. I let him go and he ate my Lupin.
Then the slugs moved in. Loathsome wee beasties.
Spook went to great lengths to get his trusty steed working so that he could till the land.

And very successful he was too. I wish I could share the video of a happy Spook in his tractor but rest assured, he was chuffed as a monkey. However, it does not have the implements for tilling so he had to go down a more arduous route.

Tattie patch duly prepped, it was for me to plant the tatties. Every day I anxiously stare at it waiting for signs of life. Grass, dock leaves - probably tomatoes, all popping up nicely. No tatties. I think if I shut my eyes and toss them over my shoulder, my natural ability will come to the fore.
There was a barley crop growing nicely on the deck, under the bird table until we power washed it away and moved the table off the deck. I doubt Spook ever imagined how much entertainment he’d get from a bird table. The regular visitors seem part of the community now.

Most recently, a family of Robins - parents and their 3 fat off spring - sparking a discussion that maybe a Cuckoo has tricked the parents, so big are the chicks.

The wildlife in the poly tunnel is more spectacular than the produce - Peter aside.

The wildlife in the kitchen is possibly the most dangerous. I found myself trapped between Spook trying to syphon his Birch Sap wine into a fresh Demi-john, having let it settle for weeks and Meg trying to get her sourdough into the right shape without losing air. Spook needed me to hold the syphon tube in place and as I glanced over at an anxious bread chef, I accidentally touched the bottom of the jar and stirred up the sediment again. Bad. Very bad….

When you’re bad, you have to go and stand in a corner. Anyway up will do. And when your sourdough is giving you an emotional runaround, you may as well do it too. I’m only doing it ‘cause I heard on the radio it was equivalent to a face lift. If you do it often enough.

Also may help ease the belly after eating all the bakers goodies.

In this household, you can have your gin and tonic in a cake, or a glass…..

And look at the world through a reddish haze….

The haze is not recommended for hair cutting day, however. Spook kept banging on about how “this is NOT how Amanda does it”. What a whinger! And yes I know what the elephant in the room is…

MY hair!!