Where My Lines Are Laid

I've been listening to The Wind in the Willows on podcast and am thoroughly entranced! I've never read it before. Pom Pom, don't be ashamed of me. I have a copy of the book with illustrations by Michael Hague and am leafing through looking at the beautiful paintings. This was my favorite section from the entire book; and one very appropriate since I was listening to it on our way back from Oklahoma.
"As he hurried along, eagerly anticipating the moment when he would be at home again among the things he knew and liked, the Mole saw clearly that he was an animal of tilled field and hedgerow, linked to the ploughed furrow, the frequented pasture, the lane of evening lingerings, the cultivated garden plot. For others the asperities, the stubborn endurance, or the clash of actual conflict, that went with Nature in the rough; he must be wise, must keep to the pleasant places in which his lines were laid and which held adventure enough , in their way, to last for a lifetime."
I agree wholeheartedly with Mr. Mole. I'm a creature of tilled field and hedgerow, linked to pasture and lane of evening lingerings. My lines are laid in pleasant country places with adventures enough for my lifetime.

Alabama Soap Meeting

Darlene was selling Shea butter fresh from the calabash, so her hands were greasy.

Darlene: Just put it in my pocket.

Jen: What do you mean I have to get change?!

Sadly, I did not win the grand prize on either day. Friday's was a $250 gift certificate from Snowdrift Farm, and Saturday's was a "Tank" cutter donated by the soap meeting itself. DebbieT is demonstrating hers in the picture above.

Debbie also organized a business card swap, and made the cutest little card holders I've ever seen. Isn't she brilliant?

I think I changed a setting on the camera by mistake (I took Hubby's since it's small), so a lot of the photos didn't turn out well. All the ones I accidentally took of my feet were perfect, of course.

Mar crowned (and knighted!) our new President, Sandi, while our outgoing boss, Jen, was giddy with joy. She's been our President, our benevolent dictator, and fearless leader for the past 11 years, and has never steered us wrong.

We were so lucky to have Anne-Marie from Brambleberry as our main speaker. She taught us how to make massage candles, and also spoke on the topics of Goal Setting and Rules to Succeed in Business. She should know, because she had a company grossing over $1 million when she was only 25 years old! I believe that was about six years ago, and her success continues to build. She is smart, smart, smart, but also very personable, kind, and sharing.

High Wire Act

[More 'Incense' passionflowers opened on Monday afternoon. Check the previous post - Aw, Nuts - to see why the photos didn't get up until now.]

The strands of the passion vine [planted at the far right of the bed], and of the Dolichos lablab/Hyacinth vine [planted at the far left of the border] had both outgrown the fence by August, so Philo helped me tie some twine for them to grow on. The twine reaches from a board about 5-feet high at the fence across to branches at the nine-foot level on a nearby magenta crepe myrtle.


Unless you look closely, you might think a hyacinth bean is producing passionflowers - the vines and foliage have become intertwined, but only the passionflower is blooming. I hope the bean catches up so that these two rather odd flowers will be open at the same time, resembling gaudily dressed performers twirling from the high wire at Circus~Circus.

Iris, A Meme and Nostalgia

The County Clerk asked for more iris photos – remember the mystery iris that had been labeled purple? It opened and looks exactly like the big clump of pale orange ones, which had also been labeled as purple. There must be a colorblind organic gardener supplying these mismarked divisions to the fundraising sales!
Here is one of the pale orange ones at left, cut from its stalk and held in my hand. The mystery iris is at right… they look identical to me.
The County Clerk also tagged me for a même, so I gave it a try.
1] I’ve spent months researching the perfect tree or shrub for some area we’re revamping, then dragged Philo from nursery to nursery hunting for it. Several times we brought our treasure home and set the container in the designated place, but… there were no bells, no skyrockets, no tingles of delight. I set the poor reject aside for some other use, and went back to the research.
2] I can trap myself into doing projects by using psychology. Trudi Temple has a wonderful garden in Illinois, which I visited over and over back in the nineties. The first time I went to Trudi’s, I came home wanting to emulate her, but knew I’d have second thoughts if I waited too long. I knew exactly what amount of destruction would keep me from turning back, and before going in to cook dinner, had ripped out a band of grass wide enough to delineate the boundaries of a new huge front yard border. When I wanted a new side garden this spring, I used a weed whip to scribe the basic shape, destroying the turf so I wouldn’t chicken out. [This border is coming along and there will be photos in a few weeks.]
3] I didn’t even realize this might be considered crazy, but Philo recalled how puzzled the old neighbors were when I used our children’s wagons and carts to roll trees and shrubs around the yard. I would move them to possible locations, sometimes leaving them in place for a week or two before making final planting decisions. The neighbors may also have been amused when I persuaded family members of differing heights into letting me position them with arms stretched outward overhead, then maneuvered them around the yard so I could estimate how a tree or shrub would look in the landscape.
4] Maybe this one really was crazy. When my mother-in-law gave me money as a birthday gift, she probably hoped I’d get my hair restyled, or at least buy some new clothes. I took the money to the material supply yard instead, and bought boulders for my garden.

5] I may never know if this was the craziest thing I’ve ever done or if it was the sanest. Eight years ago I let myself be talked into leaving our families, our home and the tree peony, the iris, the lilies, the Pagoda Dogwood, the wildflowers, the lilacs and so much more that grew in our 12-year old garden in Illinois, in order to live in Texas.

We thought it would last 3-to-5 years, and there were many good reasons to move, both professional and financial. But I must confess that there was an element of horticultural greed influencing my consent. I wanted a chance to grow the plants in the Plant Delight Catalog…all those plants from warmer zones. Well, I'm plenty warm now.

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Friday noon: Carol's question about the vines on our Illinois garage roof sent me to the photo albums. Maybe this should be crazy thing # 6? I talked Philo into putting a lathe and chicken wire stripe from side to side, over the roof point. A long-established Sweet Autumn Clematis climbed up from the left, blue morning glories grew quickly on the right, and they swirled together by August. The open garage door and basketball net don't do too much for the photo, but it was pretty cool to see in person! Annie

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Many of you are swamped with spring cleanup, so I hesitate to tag anyone. If you read this, and would like to do the meme, please go to the County Clerk's site and find out how to make a post. Those of you who are whining that you can't be out in the garden right now, consider yourself tagged!

Annie

An Assyrian Wedding For Our Firstborn Son

This time last week we were in the wintry depths of Chicago. Or more precisely, we were lying around trying to recover from an eight-hour reception; Assyrian style. Boy, do they know how to throw a party!
I'll be posting here and there on different aspects of the wedding from a white girl's perspective. I'll just go ahead and say that it was fabulous! Right now...I'm still in recovery mode.

Basement flair

The New Town of Edinburgh is new in relative Scottish terms. Built between 1765 and 1850, it's an area of gracious neo-classical streets and squares, of townhouses and spacious flats. Very desirable.
When I'm walking through this area I like to look down, into the basement area below pavement level. This is a UNESCO World Heritage site, but it's very much lived-in. I love the juxtaposition of high end property and basic Scottish thrift, above. Why use a tumble dryer when you can put up a clothes line?
And gardening? Just use a basket.

We have several of these wicker hampers kicking around at home. One is in the loft, one in the garage, one at the allotment. I think I should liberate them from their dull storage duties. I'd draw the line at leaving my guitar outside as decor, however.

Maturing

Continuing the whisky theme from my Christmas holiday. Under these frosty roofs lie hundreds of casks of whisky. These are some of the warehouses of Glenrothes distilllery. Thick stone walls, earth floors and slate roofs, and 15 years or so of unhurried maturing.
The white is all hoar frost - not a flake of snow in sight. And yes, the air was very definitely perfumed with whisky where I stopped to take this photo.

Bardon Hill and Beacon Hill

Led by me, with Barry and Gordon. Hilly, mostly good underfoot - some mud in woodland areas. Great views from Beacon Hill of course. Fine, warm, sunny afternoon. 1,161 ft of climbing. Around 13 miles including add-ons. Moving pace much better than over all pace - we did stop quite a lot, but - no way do I ever walk at 31 mph!


We - well, I, - suggested that we should try Shiela Dixon's Leicestershire’s three peaks challenge. In the event we managed two. According to our magic machines it was a twelve and a half mile walk, involving over 1 000 feet of
climbing – not huge by Yorkshire, Lake District or even Derbyshire standards,
but enough of a challenge for today.



The fact that it’s a good hour’s drive from home doesn’t help, and then I have to walk back to the car to park it in a much safer
looking layby - the one Shiela recommends in her blog - at SK458120 on the A511 between Bardon and the M1.So it was 10.20 before
we started.






Walking alongside the A 511 isn’t a bundle
of laughs, but there is at least a footway of sorts. Back towards Bardon for 200 yds or so, our footpath leaves to the right, almost opposite Forest House. With all the leaf growth this year it is not
exactly obvious. Once we find it, it’s
overgrown in places, but clearly marked – those lovely Leicestershire yellow
posts.

moat and bridge reflections

On as far as Brook farm, where we walk past
the regimentedly reverse parked cars, and then the moated Old Hall and turn left to walk close behind the house.

Love Leicestershire footpaths.

Our
path goes north east, and we turn left along the Ivanhoe Way when we meet it in
less than half a mile. We’ve been
climbing gently from the farm, and continue to do so towards Bardon Hill
Wood.

Chicken of the woods, I'm told, but
I'm not brave enough to try it

We cross a quarry road and now
climb more steeply through rocky scrub, up to the radio mast near the
summit. But where is the top?

View - avoiding the large industrial estate to our right.

We don’t find the trig point, in spite of
using a magic machine to show our altitude – we must be almost at the summit –
I don’t realize until later that there is a trig point and rocks. I’ll have to go back another time. Will Barry and Gordon accompany me??

Barry checks out the accommodation

The way down is simple – follow the road
behind the mast until we meet the quarry road,
then turn just after Kelhams Farm – there’s a diverted path clearly
marked which more or less follows the power lines. The OS map has a path marked going further to
the left, but this has been discontinued. No matter, we arrive at the road at Upper
Greenhill Farm by a slightly roundabout route.
We cross over and take the bridle way past
Charley Mill farm. Just before entering
Burrow Wood is a nature reserve with a bench – do we want to have a break? You betcha.

Well-earned break

We walk through Burrow Wood, and then take the right hand path when it forks off. This joins a small road to go past Woodleys, Charley Hall and Rock Farm. At the T-junction we turn right and go under the M1. We follow the road for almost a mile
alongside woodland, and over the crossroads at Bawdon Lodge – this was
surprisingly busy!

A little further along and at a house marked on the map as
Bawdon Cottage Farm, and on the house as Charley Chapel, a footpath goes off to the left. This leads down a little way then we begin our long gentle climb to Beacon Hill. We meet the road from Shepshed - and turn right. What a delight!

Lovely quiet road!

The road is closed to traffic for resurfacing - this is much better for us!



After a couple of hundred yards we turn left along an avenue of trees planted in memory of one of the early members of the Leicestershire Footpath Association.



The path climbs very gently - and about halfway along is a platform with a view.


We admire it briefly, then continue to the end of the avenue where we turn right. The approach to Beacon Hill from this side is impressively craggy.



None of the climbing is too severe and we are soon close to the summit.

The Old Man of the Beacon.

There's an info board about the formation of these hills - volcanic activity from around 600 million years ago and folding about 400 million years ago, then erosion.

Bardon Hill on the skyline

You got something good to eat??

After bagging the summit, we have another snack break. Is it all downhill from here?

We go down past the toilet block in the car park, then follow the path past the charcoal burner to the cross roads.

Easy walking again - no traffic today. Is this what royalty feel like? The road straight on is clear and quiet, and we turn off along the drive towards Black Hill Farm. A quick wave at the security camera, as we take the proper footpath along the drive a bit, then to the right towards Ulverscroft Lodge Farm.

We have a little difficulty finding the correct footpath here, as the signs disagree with the map. When we eventually find it we discover that it has been diverted - a sign at the start of the diversion would have been mighty helpful.

We carry on over the footbridge then up through woodland and alongside Poultney Wood, climbing steadily up to Copt Oak. It's only later that I discover this is the highest point of the M1, and a famously excellent spot for Radio Leicester's transmission mast. Almost as high as Beacon Hill. Perhaps we can count this as our third peak?





The church is an attractive building, and there are a few gravestones made of the local stone.

After this we walk through part of the village, past the former Youth Hostel, and the Copt Oak pub, then turn left and walk along a busier road over the motorway. After a short distance our path is to the right - almost hidden by vegetation again, but clearly signposted afterwards. We meet the tarmac road to some houses, and take this rather than the overgrown path, but have to negotiate a barrier to return to this when the roadway finishes. After a couple of fields a path goes off to our right and we follow it to Brook Farm and Old Hall Farm - with the moat.

Now it's just a case of retracing this morning's route for three quarters of a mile, and we're back at the car.

Evidence...

Ozzie here. I'm just chillin' - enjoying the sun while I wait for my supper. Little did I know what was happenin with the mom.
Chillin' s'more.

Picked up one of the hairy giant's toys (cause I happen to like hers better than mine) and started playin' with it.
Feels good... Then I heard a scream from inside the house. I guess ma found my pressie of this evening. A nice bird. Under the coffee table. She apparently stepped on it barefooted. Then she came out to me and found this.
The Evidence... that the peeps talk about...
What freaks I live with. Note from mom: I emitted such a bloodcurdling scream when I stepped on that bird that I think Sammie might be deaf at this point. Ozzie looked amused.Note from Sammie: The scream issuing from ma led me to believe that something had broken into the house again - like the raccoon last night that opened the giant garage door all by itself and walked in, calmly as "I own this place" and went for my food. The nerve! I woke everybody up, you better believe it. And now look at the eviedence above that simply makes my peeps crazy.