A plum harvest and learning new things
Monday 20th July. A new moon marks a resurgence of energy. I feel a shift in the field. The poppy heads take on the papery texture that I love so much. Youth is for the young, they seem to say, we have the beauty of age. The atriplex continues its journey towards the skies, but the early enthusiasm of the chicory and the daisies fades and they slump sideways. It is only through the gaps that they leave as they fall that I glimpse the dahlias and the rudbeckia, flecked with blue phlox petals.
Tuesday 20th July. Soap. Soap everywhere. Bottles of oil. Boxes. Tissue paper. Do you remember playing shops when you were little? Setting up a little cardboard corner and entreating people to come and ask for things. Felt tip menus and make-shift clipboards for recording orders. A request for an item, a bustle of activity, money changes hands and the instinct for an exchange is satisfied. To be repeated until someone gets bored and goes off for tea. This is basically my business. The Saipua soap delivery arrived. I put it on Instagram and say airily for people to dm me if they want some. And they do. I frantically try and keep track with impromptu spreadsheets and post it notes.
Thursday 22nd July. The kitchen garden is a mixed bag at this point of the season. The ‘Fordhook Giant’ chard is living up to its name, and the courgettes are producing in a way that would intimidate lesser mortals. The hot summer has not been kind to vegetables; the beetroots are very slow to get going, the mangetout need a second sowing because they went over, and the carrots are only hanging on because I water them daily. There are some plants that I let fend for themselves, and there are some that I fuss and pamper. The squash patches (yes, there are two, and a compost heap) are inspected daily. Water applied and weeded as needed. After a slow start, new fruits appear every day.
I also inspect my tomatoes daily. I planted them a bit close together because I am always greedy so the crop is not quite what I would wish, but I feed them regularly with whey, and I still have high hopes. (Yes they are meant to be black.)
Friday 23rd July. Have you heard Brene Brown talking about FFT’s? She identified it in the context of the lockdown and it was the subject of her first podcast episode, but it has stayed with me in all sorts of ways. I loathe doing things for the first time. I am deeply uncomfortable with the stage of things where I am learning, clumsy, uncertain or in transition. Loathe it, but I do it anyway. My big new thing that I am trying very hard to be ok with learning is making little films. Don’t laugh. I know. There’s possibly a YouTube channel in the offing. Keep an eye on Instagram stories in the meantime.
Saturday 25th June. I may have quoted Summer Lightning before, but it is my favourite Wodehouse. Today the rain hammers down, there is thunder rolling down the hills and jobs are found indoors. A clearing out of the studio, a new printer, paper samples ordered and considered. Yet more sweet peas added to the wish-list. A taster of the time where dog walks will mean wellies and my wardrobe can collapse with relief into woolens and the odd bit of tweed. I cause a bit of a ruction on my feed by mentioning autumn. There are those who protest that summer has barely started. There are others who are desperate for a chill in the air and the nights drawing in.
You know which camp I am in.
Sunday 26th July. There are two plum trees in the orchard, although three varieties of plum. The big tree has a rootstock with Cambridge Gage Greengate and Marjorie's Seedling branches grafted on. I cannot pretend it is prolific, but Majorie’s Seedling is for my money the best tasting plum there is. Victoria, the littler tree, often breaks its own branches under the weight of its fruit and has to be propped up with sticks. It is perfectly lovely, just not exquisite. It won’t be ready for a few weeks, and I know the first fruits will be invaded with the pupae of the plum fruit moth. But after that, there will be spiced plum crumble with ginger and mace, and roast plum sorbet, and a plain compote to go with yoghurt at breakfast. Now if that doesn’t sound like autumn, I don’t know what to do with you.
