The days are just packed (and other excuses) - [22-28 June]

The weather this week

Seeing lightning symbols on the Met Office weather app is always quite exciting, but on delivery I found our two storms this week a bit disappointing. We were intrigued/apprehensive to see how Humphrey would respond to thunder. He is either a brave little boy, or the thunder was a bit weak. The rain however, gave its all and the sound of it drumming the earth and pummelling the poly tunnel was a welcome reminder of the force of nature in this gentle rural idyll that we inhabit.

Asides from that, we had some weighty heat (as you expect before a storm) and uncomfortable mugginess, during which I chose to go on a long walk without a bottle of water. Natch.

At home

I finally got hold of all the ingredients needed to make kimchi, just one week after snails and slugs had made some rather expressive lace out of my Chinese cabbage crop. Rather than be defeated, I decided to pour myself a stiff drink and tackle the mess with an Opinel and a bowl of salty water. In the end, I had far more cabbage than expected, and managed to make a few jars. We shall see if it results in a ‘special’ snail influenced flavour. I understand snail slime is a coveted beauty product these days, anyway.

In the garden

A socially distanced coffee/cake date with some old friends on Wednesday motivated me to do some speedy, ruthless weeding in the messy flower beds around our lawn. I discovered some catmint and a rose that had been smothered by goosegrass, and pulled an astonishing amount of organic matter from a relatively small space in 20 minutes.

After coffee, one of our friends remarked on our luck at inheriting a mature garden with so many established plants. I agree with her, but for the rest of the week, while waiting for the watering can to fill, I eyed these established beds and wondered how guilty I would feel about moving, restructuring or eliminating various bits. We have been here long enough that I’m beginning to see how we might change things to suit our needs and dreams and I foresee quite a bit of inventive landscaping (Permaculture design #4, I reckon). Many months ago, another friend remarked scathingly on the ‘peripheral’ nature of our garden. He’s not wrong. Even though the borders have now filled out and up, become more interesting and a little wild, there is very little to interact with, not much intrigue, and – as the searingly hot Wednesday morning coffee experience proved – not much shade.

In other garden news, I am now growing 38 vigorous tomato plants in the poly tunnel. This was not my intention, but I had very little faith in the germination rate of my heritage tomato seeds and then subsequently couldn’t bear to compost any of them. There are three varieties: Stupice (vining but neat, and already covered in tomatoes), a non-vining variety I was given by a neighbour which has produced suspiciously symmetrical sets, and another vining variety called ‘Italian Heritage’ which grows randomly in all directions, looking as though it is finding everything a bit taxing and just wants to lie down. Given that the tunnel regularly reaches 40 degrees nowadays, having it full of tomatoes is just fine. I fear nothing else would survive for long.

We have a family of blackbirds living in the newly cleared out barn. They are rambunctious and extremely grumpy – eyeing us with distain every time we go in there. I am, of course, thrilled to provide a home to three fledgling blackbirds, but the volume of excrement they have deposited on all of our belongings is less endearing. However, the comedic value of their appearance makes things a little easier.

Out and about

My parents celebrated 42 years of marriage this week, which is downright impressive and, in their case, romantic. They are also still great friends, which is an inspiration for two folk hoping to get hitched. Still no certainty on when we can tie the knot, but there’s no rush, I guess.

Anyway, on the way home from seeing my parents, Jim spotted a lumbering shape on our left as we were turning right.

Him: ‘There’s a cow on the road!’

Me: [thinking that Jim’s eyesight is getting much worse] ‘No there isn’t. Don’t be so… oh!’

Sure enough, in my rearview mirror, there appeared the unmistakable shape of a cow, hurtling towards the rear of our car with alarming speed. I floored it and sped towards the only gateway for a mile where I could turn the car round. I had vague thoughts of herding it back to the farm from whence I was sure it came, but on turning around and heading back I found myself playing chicken with a cow who had no intention of backing down. We came to an abrupt halt and the cow elegantly swerved around us, up the verge and through a hedge, then back onto the road to resume her eager trot towards whatever appointment she was trying to keep. We alerted the farm, of course, but by then the cow was nowhere to be seen. I wonder if she was making a break for freedom, or trying to reunite herself with a calf/friend/lover stationed elsewhere.

We also went exploring the ruins of a local estate – Abbotrule. A ruined chapel, laundry house, fountain, walled garden and the bay windowed front of the mansion can still be seen, amidst rather lovely, if neglected, old parkland. We wandered around this eerie site, made creepier by the background noise of howling foxhounds, and wondered what had happened to transform what was clearly once a prosperous estate into ivy covered, crumbling ruins. Old gravestones of long forgotten people lean into the long grass, their inscriptions illegible but for a couple of dates – 1787 and 1899. It was unnerving to see such a thing now, in the context of Covid-times and the demise of many structures we have previously perceived as permanent and unshakable.

Other thoughts

I have missed two blog posts – two whole weeks of events feel like they have fallen into an oubliette. Why has this happened? I cannot possibly have an excuse (other than being computer averse and also accidentally deleting an entry).

Time seems to pass in a busy blur. I can never remember what has happened the day before and have all but given up writing my daily observation journal which is meant to provide me with a record of garden happenings. I frequently forget where I’ve put my phone (I even left it in my parents garden overnight), don’t document things properly, and have totally slacked posting anything of interest on Instagram. I’m also observing that I’m not progressing various projects at the rate I mean to. The garden is a mess and it’s best not to think about the state of the house. I’m out of work, have no social life and we’re not going anywhere, and yet each evening I feel like I’ve been running around all day.

Where is all the time going? And if I’m not getting the things done that I want to, what AM I doing??

I decided to record the happenings of a full week to see what was up. The result is surprising. My time is actually packed with rarely an hour where I’m not doing, making, tidying, sorting, looking after Humph or working on stuff for others. There is very little time dedicated to quiet pastimes like reading or writing. Even less for exercise or self-time. In the 105 hours that I monitored this week, only 2 hours were given to working on my permaculture diploma, and 2 hours to reading. A rather embarrassing number of hours were taken up by food work (planning, procuring, preparing, presenting, clearing up) and on reflection, I’m actually pretty tired of it. After a particularly intense session on Saturday where I baked bread, roasted peppers, made soup, cooked lentils for a curry, and tried to make kimchi, I realised 4 hours had gone by without me feeling like I’d achieved anything. I was hot, clammy, flustered and frustrated, and had broken a Pyrex bowl. I wanted to go out to a restaurant. I wanted ready meals.

After a lifetime of enjoying homemade meals, of studying the importance in knowing where your food comes from, of celebrating the joys and value of cooking, I was a little shocked to feel like my love affair with food was waning. I’m sure it won’t last and that the malaise is mostly Covid induced. But by golly, I want a break from it.

On reflection, I think it is largely to do with the artificial monotony of lockdown. When there is more externally imposed life content, actual deadlines, significant events, etc. you feel a greater motivation to get shit done during the time in between. At present, time seems endless, nebulous, without structure or purpose. Sometimes I find this enables guilt free indulgence, at other times it inspires an unnerving anxiety.

We humans like to feel held within boundaries which we can choose to break or adhere to. Knowing how to behave in someone else’s house or at a restaurant doesn’t come naturally - think of how children behave until they’re told otherwise. We can find reassurance in knowing that our behaviour is acceptable, or can get a kick from knowing we’re being transgressive, and in this way we have some tools with which to explore, determine and communicate who we (think we) are. Either way, we have to know what the agreed rules are, first.

Right now, I feel that the rules governing how we use our time and how we interact with each other have been suspended, upset, and called into question. We can stay at home in our pyjamas, drink custard from the carton, get drunk at 10am and post it all on Instagram, if we please. We feel we can party everyday and trash our city’s parks. Our social compass is spinning erratically, and this ‘anything-goes’ mentality is frightening rather than liberating. Some might say that in the absence of normalcy we adopting new ‘anti-cultural’ and anti-social structures and parameters. In the midst of this, the overdue scrutiny of our society’s conceptualisation and performance of racial difference further calls into question that which we consider to be ‘normal’ or ‘correct’.

I don’t think I’m the only one who feels like they are floating in a daze, passing the time with distractions but seldom feeling that I’m progressing in any meaningful way. It’s hard to know what that would look like anyway. Part of me doesn’t want our culture, society or economy to return to the way it was. I want to see us collectively grasp this opportunity to effect positive change and do things differently, more sustainably, and with greater compassion. In the meantime I feel like I’m treading water, waiting for others to decide which direction I should swim so that I have some new guidelines, new parameters within which to live. Deep down I know all this procrastination is just a way of avoiding the fact that I will have to make those decisions myself.

Totally gratuitous flower shot just to keep things jolly.