The highs and lows of setters
Monday 15 February
The horse walk. As we come through the gate from the lane into the big field, I see three deer standing perfectly still on the curve of the hill. The girls are already off their leads but I have seen them first and I know I need to warn the deer to give them a head start. (The girls are fast but not that fast and there is absolutely no danger of them ever catching a deer, but I would prefer it not to be too close a call.) I am struck by a sudden self-consciousness; what does one shout at deer to communicate to them? I run through options and settle for a rather Wodehousian ‘hi!’. Their white rumps start to bob and they head off towards the woods and into the gloom. Such events mean that we are slower to do the walk and I had already timed it wrong. It is fully dark long before we get home. The start of the night than the end of the day. For the first time in a few weeks, we are joined by swooping bats and the sound of the owl.
Tuesday 16 February
Warm. A true warmth. A chill wind first thing mellows to a mild breeze. It is a biodynamic leaf day, although I sow everything and anything but leaves which seems almost deliberately contrary. The first tomatoes. Cobaea alba, after soaking them for a few hours. Smokey Eyes larkspur are sprinkled on damp paper and put in the fridge for a few days to stratify. All the other seeds are put by the cooker to be warmed to a steady 20 degrees.
Wednesday 17 February
Fruit day. Broad beans sown in pots in the greenhouse. Potting up narcissi bulbs, filmed for Gather. An indoor outdoor sort of day. One moment, I stand in the kitchen garden and inhale lungfuls of the freshness and the next, I have to dodge chilly drizzle. I collect moss to top the bulb pots to the sound of pigeons. The shadiest place (and thus the best source of moss) is on the north side of the hedge that surrounds the orchard. I see that it is absolutely thick with the tiny white bobbles which will, one day soon, be a wall of sloe blossom. The brightness of the day belies the gale that comes in by the evening dog walk. When darkness falls, it comes as navy blue. A storm.
Thursday 18 February
A morning of blue skies and yellow sun. The light radiates into cold corners and dark places. The birdsong amplifies. A pheasant comes into the garden and pecks amongst the bolting kale. Some training of roses today.
Friday 19 February
The writing of my one true magnum opus, a book all about pumpkins and winter squash, takes another hit. The blue and curious looking ‘Triamble’ has proved a good keeper and I roast it simply with salt and pepper so I can make tasting notes on its flavour and texture. I leave for less than half an hour and return to an empty bowl and Maud licking her lips and Hugo has a smudge of squash on the top of his head. It is not all bad news on the nourishment front though; the wild garlic is putting on an inch a day. Also, Maud managed to thieve without breaking the bowl. I count my blessings with that dog.
Saturday 20 February
It poured with rain all day. I have absolutely nothing else to say about today.
Sunday 21 February
Peas soaked and sown for micro greens. The sloe blossom is out with conviction now, bursting like bubbles, starting at the very tips of the branches. A magical sight and I know I will soon have to choose between cutting boughs of it to bring in the house, and leaving it for fruit.
Spring is very very nearly in the air.