Cornwall, Devon, Somerset: Historic Houses, Abbeys & Gardens, Tin Mines and Choughs

Medieval Graffiti of a Monk

13th C floor tiles at Cleeve Abbey

Surround of a mirror, all hand-stitched

6-spot Burnett moth (they contain hydrogen cyanide)

Sea Campion

Choughs!

Old doorways and windows. In-between places. I am drawn to photographing them and often return from an old house to discover that's mostly what I've recorded. 

Our trip down to the West Country earlier this week was no exception. But then there were lots of lovely old doorways and windows to admire at Cotehele, Lytes Carey and Cleeve Abbey. 

We stayed the first night in a cottage perched too close to the edge of a cliff at the bottom of a very long, narrow, steep trackway. The North Atlantic pounded the restless shore of the cove below where a fair share of wrecks had been claimed over the centuries and where pilchards had once been collected. To access the deserted cove we scrambled down the pathless cliff which was hairy, but exhilarating. M went swimming while I wandered over the white sand and took pictures of muscles (the sea kind). We scrambled back up as the tide was turning and starting to reach the bottom of the rocks.

The following morning we were up early and out on the South West Coast path. When we returned to the cottage a little past half seven, four Choughs were sitting on the roof, talking. Members of the crow family distinctive for their bright red beaks and legs, Choughs are rare creatures these days and I'd never seen one before. They returned to breed on the Lizard a few years ago and have since spread up the coast. I was thrilled to see them, and even more thrilled when another four turned up later that morning, wheeling across the storm-tossed skies of the local tin mines (Poldark, anyone?).

We went to St Ives and got well and truly soaked at Godrevy (hoping to see Leanne but just missing her. Hoping to see seals too, but they had more sense than to sit on the beach in a wet gale waiting for me), then went inland and on up to Devon. By the time we arrived at the B&B the sun had come out so we got out the map and found a two mile run across the local countryside which shook out the stale car sensation but which for some reason perplexed the lady who ran the B&B.

The following morning we were up at 6 (which also perplexed her) and headed up the coast to Blue Anchor Bay which has a lovely sea-front cafe where we sat and ate a full English breakfast with steaming mugs of tea and hot chocolate while looking out across the bay through the drizzle to Wales. 

Cleeve Abbey is only a short drive from there and it is well worth a visit. There was no one else there when we arrived so we had the place to ourselves. It is tranquil, soothing and peaceful and has some of the best preserved medieval floor tiles and wall paintings in the country. While I sat in the window of an upstairs room soaking up the atmosphere and feeling rather like I didn't ever want to leave, a Pippistrelle flew out of the fireplace, circled the room and me once, and flew back up the chimney. If it weren't for the distinctly batty smell in the fireplace when I went to investigate I might have believed it was the old building teasing my senses.

The rain easing, we drove to Lytes Cary Manor in Somerset, a 14th Century manor house with lovely gardens which was the birthplace of the Elizabethan herbalist Henry Lyte. It's now run by the National Trust. We wandered through the beautiful gardens which, being billowy and wild rather than clipped and formal were right up my street and then went to the tea rooms for a cream tea while I contemplated how to best recreate the garden at home. In the plant shop, I managed to smuggle home a Tom Thumb fuchsia and a pale lilac Clary Sage, salvia turkestanica, which is going in the second new bed my husband has just finished for me this morning. It was completed with the immortal words: you do know we've no more room now for any more new beds, don't you? So I'm not allowed to buy any more plants....for a while :o)

Hope all are well?

CT :o)

Not Our Finest Hour

Southern Hawker Dragonfly

Eclosing from the nymph case

Tree Bee On Astrantia with rather full pollen basket

Hummingbird Hawk Moth!

Salvia Hot Lips

Clover, with Small Magpie moth hiding under its leaf :o)

Part of our garden

Pop, Cat Watching

Flowers from the garden in a vase

Flax

Canterbury Bell

Soggy Starling in the rain

The New Bed :o)

Brand New Cygnet

Reed Warbler

Home grown broad beans

Black Forest Gateau. Comfort Food.

It's not been a great few days. Our referendum on EU membership has split the country. Whatever Boris and co say, it is not a ringing endorsement for the out vote. Over 48% of us wanted to stay in and now over 3 million of us have signed a petition demanding a second referendum because the result was so close. 

I've written before about what Europe does for our wildlife and the environment so I won't repeat myself too much. Suffice to say successive UK Govts have displayed a complete lack of interest and concern for both in the 35 years since the last piece of home-grown wildlife legislation (1981 Wildlife and Countryside Act, hard fought for by wildlife lobbyists in the face of strong opposition from both the NFU and the Govt of the time), and have instead demonstrated an eagerness to shove wildlife off the agenda altogether in the ruthless pursuit of power and money. Think Boris Johnson stating that you can cut down an ancient woodland and plant a new one in its place, replacing like for like with no problems, or Eric Pickles giving the go ahead to houses being built on a piece of protected woodland where nightingales nested, stating that the birds could just be moved elsewhere. Conservationists will tell you that relocations do not have a high success rate and the animals concerned often die or disperse.

Perhaps the most alarming aspect of all of this is that, without the protection the EU gave to our wild places and wild creatures, there will be no deterrent to people who don't care about them not to misuse them. Protection under law means law breakers face criminal proceedings. If that disappears from the statute books (and what's to stop Boris and friends repealing the European Habitats Directive, or the Birds Directive, or even our own 1981 Act now?) then there will be nothing left in law to prevent them chopping up woods and building on sites that are home to rare and endangered species, or to species that aren't yet rare or endangered, but who soon could be.

I find this so unbearable and so frustratingly short-sighted, because we are completely reliant on our wildlife for the provision of the soil we grow our food in, the water we drink, the air we breath, the food we eat, the regulation of temperature we rely on not to boil or freeze to death. Simply put, if we keep losing habitats and species at the rate we're going we won't survive ourselves. 

Where was information about what the EU does for our wildlife in all the campaigning? One reason the Conservatives didn't champion it was because it would have thrown their own shameful lack of legislation in that area into sharp relief.

Beside wildlife, we've also lost all the EU funding that has gone into our universities and scientific and medical research projects in recent years, the free movement of people, including scientists, medics and academics and all their expertise (reported in the papers as one-way immigration when in reality we have all had free movement to 27 countries which we will now lose), human rights, climate change legislation, farming subsidies, trading rights. The list goes on.

I know our association with the EU wasn't perfect and there were things that needed changing, but this total severance feels like cutting off your nose to spite your face. Our young people feel utterly betrayed by the older generation; the country has no leadership and the squabbling over who steps into the vacuum left by David Cameron's resignation will tear us further apart; the shadow cabinet is in tatters, with Hilary Benn being sacked this morning and half the shadow cabinet expected to resign today, and now it looks like Scotland will seek independence too, and quite frankly who can blame them?

It would be easy to despair, but we won't. We'll keep fighting :o)

The garden and the land hereabouts has been keeping me going in the face of this needless mess. The Southern Hawker in the top pic took all day to get out of its nymph case; a Stag Beetle dropped (out of the sky?) at my feet on the path and required moving onto the log pile; crickets have been jumping onto my fingers and showing little inclination to move off; honey bees have detached themselves from the swarm which we think is living in the chimney pot and found their way into the house so have required rescuing, as did the Tree Bee in the photo. And then, cause of much excitement a Hummingbird Hawk Moth turned up on the small Daphne. 

I took Ma for a walk along the river and we saw a baby Little Grebe sitting in his nest, a vole which ran over to my feet and seemed totally unconcerned to find us on his path, and the Reed Warbler in the pic. Hard to photograph because they are usually seen and not heard so we were thrilled. No watervoles sadly, but we did hear a Cettis Warbler :o)

Anyway, dark days here at present, but hopefully things will settle. I'm not a pessimist by nature and I refuse to be beaten by politicians who have no principles. 

I hope everyone is well and recovering from the shock a little?

CT 

How To Survive Workmen In The House

The house has been through an assortment of workmen this Spring. First, way back in April there was the new kitchen (despite a team of lovely fellas promising a four-day-fit it still isn't finished), then, there were new blinds (also hit by delays) and now, there is The Bath Man. I expect it will be Quite Some Time before I let any other work people come in. Possibly, this will be after I have completed a fairly extensive and lengthy course of therapy.

The Bath Man was meant to come two weeks ago, but owing to the sudden and unexpected need to replace what were, quite possibly, the world's mankiest taps (a realisation brought on by showing them to someone who isn't family and despite that couldn't quite hide his shock at the condition they were in) he has, instead, arrived this morning. 

He is here Now.

And he is singing.

While wearing headphones. 

Possibly, owing to the fact that the singing coincides with the wearing of headphones, he has never actually heard himself sing with his own ears. Let me tell you, it is an experience that, once subjected to, remains forever seared on the consciousness (and quite possibly the subconscious too. I am expecting it to pop up in dreams).

He attempts all the notes, especially the high ones which he falls off.

Poppy has been sitting at the foot of the stairs staring up in the direction of the bathroom uncertainly wagging her tail and cocking her head from side to side as if she's never heard a noise like it and is struggling to place it. Ted has given in to barking, which is more mellifluous on the ears than the singing.

L (who is home today revising for mocks) and I initially exchanged humourous expressions when the caterwauling first began. After half an hour of being relentlessly subjected to it (the man does't pause for breath I swear), the amusement had worn off to be replaced with a definite edge of grimness. After an hour they were distinctly pained and half an hour after that there was a definite hint of murderous intent about them.

A brief respite was had when it ceased altogether for about fifteen whole minutes. Foolishly I allowed myself the indulgence of thinking we'd get away with the next four hours in blissful silence. But oh no, not so fast: it started again and this time there are fewer words and more warbles. Warbles up and down the scales (or what would be scales in someone who could actually sing)

L, seeing my face taughten says: Don't worry mum, he'll have to wear a mask to do the bath.

I reply that I think I will probably be permanently deaf long before he comes close to actually doing the bath.

At the moment he is in the cladding the entire house with dustsheets phase, which alarms me because I thought it was just the bathroom he was doing, and also words like fumes and extractor out the window although it is a bit small which isn't ideal but it'll probably work don't worry have been spoken.

To exact a small revenge for being forced to endure the noise, I stood at the foot of the stairs and recorded it. I asked L whether it would be cruel to upload it so you could hear it too and offer informed sympathy (or have a good giggle). He tells me it would be, so I shall have to content myself with playing it for M when he gets back from work. I am also considering offering it to the security services, for use in persuading criminals to fess up. Believe me, White Noise has nothing on The Bath Man Singing.

In order to soothe my frazzled nerves, I am doing a spot of sewing (applique) while watching The Sewing Bee, which always inspires me. Last year I was not a sewer and was in awe of the easy, devil-may-care way they all chopped up and re-stitched bits of fabric and changed old things into brand spanking sparkly new ones. This year, with the improved credentials of a bona fide sewer, I find I am watching it through different eyes. It is no less inspiring, but instead of awe I cast a more critical eye and wonder whether I would have attempted the various projects differently. I can also appreciate the really good ones properly.

It is perhaps no coincidence that my applique for today (making a bag for daughter J who is now back from her first successful year at uni) spells out the word LOVE. I shall be thinking that for the duration of The Bath Man's visit, albeit it with grim determination and through gritted teeth. He should be finished by 2. Which seems a good deal further away than it actually is.

Hope all are well and peaceful?

CT :o)

Moth Post June 2016

It's not been a great year for moths so far. The cold, uncertain weather has meant numbers and species are down comparative to previous years. This is good news for a friend of mine, who is writing his dissertation on moths (looking at whether different species have different optimal flight heights) and is yet to start recording them, but not so great for the moths. 

All lepidoptera are down. There have been few butterflies in the garden here. I'm up to ten species but have seen few individuals, and the Small Pearl Bordered Fritillary recording project I'm part of in the New Forest this year has so far failed to record a single individual. It's all rather worrying, especially for those species that have relatively short flight seasons. But then Nature will always balance herself (if we get out of her way sufficiently to let her do so).

Here is the moth list for the photos, starting at top left and going clockwise. I've added info about each species, including when and where to see them and what you need to have nearby or in your garden to attract them food-plant wise. There is often a difference between the food plant (which refers to what the larvae or caterpillars need to survive) and the nectar source (which is what the adult moth needs). 

First Photo Collection:
1. Elephant Hawk. Needs willowherbs (food plant) and honeysuckle (nectar source) so leave a few in your garden and you'll get these moths coming in as they have a wide distribution across England and Wales and fly from May to August).

2. White Ermine. These need nettle and dock to breed in and are found all round the UK, they fly May to July abnd are wizards at playing dead when disturbed.

3. Many Plumed and Friend. Technically listed as a micro moth, the Many Plumed feeds and breeds in honeysuckle, flies every month of the year and is widespread. We often get them coming in to the house in winter. They seem drawn to sit on the TV!).

4. Ingrailed Clay. Is on the wing in June-July in the south and July-August in the north and need a wide range of herbaceous and woody plants including primrose, violet, bramble, heather, sallow and hawthorn. Widespread so you'll more than likely have these in UK gardens).

Second Photo Collection: 
1. Buff Tip. The master of camouflage, adapted to look exactly like a silver birch twig. When L was little he wouldn't believe me that these were moths, until one moved, so the camo really is perfect. These moths fly from late May to July and over-winter a pupa in an earth chamber the caterpillar makes underground. We dig them up sometimes and raise them indoors as you should never rebury a pupa because it will suffocate. They need sallow, birch, oak, hawthorn, rowan, beech, alder, lime, sycamore or elm and exist all round the UK where they are common so many UK gardens will have them if there are trees nearby.

2. Privet Hawkmoth. There are 1050 species of Hawkmoth worldwide with the majority of these large, impressive moths found in the tropics. We have nine resident species here in the UK and eight others who come in as migrants. The Privet has one generation which flies June-July and requires privet, ash, lilac or guelder rose. It has also been reported on snowberry and honeysuckle. This is also a widespread species and if you want to see one you can try shining a torch on a white sheet in the garden- we had one visit this way last year.

Third Photo set:
1 Cinnabar. Flies mid May to early August and the foodplant is ragwort, which makes the larvae toxic and safe from birds.

2. Treble Lines. May to early July, this moths likes knapweeds, greater plantain and dandelion and is widespread through the UK. It comes to light so try the torch trick :o)

3. Elephawk Hawk.

4. Poplar Hawkmoth. May to August, common across the UK and the larvae feed on poplars, aspen, goat and grey willow.

Fourth Photo Set.
1. Nematopogon swammerdamella. What a mouthful for a moth who only measures a few mm in length! One of 15 UK species of Longhorn moth, this little fellow is common all round the UK and breeds on dead leaves on the ground.

2. Cinnabar.

3. Buff Tip.

4. Spectacle. Possibly the most aptly named moth ever, this is another moth who needs nettles to breed. It nectars on flowers (red valerian and sage are favourites) and is common throughout most of the UK.

Fifth photo set.
1. Orange Footman. On the wing late May to June and overwinters as a pupae in a cocoon among lichens. Tends to live among mature oaks, blackthorn and beech. Evidence suggests they've recently started breeding in gardens. Since the 1990s has extended its range across the UK upt. o Yorks and Lancs.

2. Pale Tussock. Flies May to June and needs a wide variety of broadleaved trees and shrubs, including hops which gives it its country name of Hop Dog. Frequent in gardens up to Cumbria.

Sixth photo set.
1. Silver Ground Carpet. Flies mid-May to late July and feeds on herbaceous plants including goose grass. Common throughout the UK.

2. Peppered Moth.  Early May to late August, requires trees to breed and is found all round the UK. A rarer melanistic (black) form was once ubiquitous when pollution was as its height. It was used to demonstrate Darwin's theory of evolution as a response to coal-dust darkening conditions.

Hope you've enjoyed those and that the info was useful.

Hope all are well?

CT :o)

A Post By Ted

Hello everyone.

It's been a while, I know, for which I can only apologise. But you know how it is. Life is Very Busy, especially for West Highlands who happen to be the Senior Dog of their households.

I hope life is treating you all well? Our house is very hectic at present, mainly because there are so many Small Interesting Creatures visiting/ living in the garden and it is my job to do Regular Patrols and check them all out to make sure it's safe for Poppy to go outside.

We've got upside-down birds hanging off the feeders (baby nuthatches) and a small orange creature Mum found hanging out of a case attached to a blade of grass. It sat on her hand for ages afterwards but she didn't show us too closely because apparently I have a habit of eating small orange creatures. I don't know where this reputation has come from because I can't recall ever having done any such thing before. Possibly it was the capture of the baby robin last week that put the thought in her mind. I ought to point out that in that instance, I was carrying the robin very carefully and safely and it was Poppy who snatched it out of my mouth and ran off with it recklessly. Anyway, the small orange creature turned out to be a baby cricket and Mum was pleased because she's never seen one eclosing out of the larval case before (whatever that means). 

Poppy is being driven mad by some cats who have a nest just beyond our fence. She spends hours watching them through a crack in the fence. They know she can't get out and reach them so they just sit there, all insouciant, and blow raspberries at her. It's even worse now they have kittens. I try to offer moral support, but I find I just can't get worked up about cats. Pigeons and squirrels now, that's an entirely different matter.

The latter have been exceptionally annoying in recent days, sitting on the fence swearing at me. I have tried Very Hard to knock them off but unfortunately have yet to succeed. They appear to have sticky feet, which I suppose you need if you choose to live in a tree. As for the pigeons, well, this year they've decided not to nest in our wisteria, which annoyingly means I don't know where they are. There are, as a result, fewer opportunities for Pigeon Watching. I hope all the Pigeon Club members around the world are managing to do better than me on that score?

We may not have many pigeons to watch, but we have got Dragons (see the picture of one holding on to a blade of grass). Poppy is terrified of them and it doesn't matter how many times Mum explains to her that they are Dragon Flies, it only makes her worry more. She thinks they're going to fly over and pick her up and fly off with her and then drop her in a lake from a great height. This is what comes of watching Game of Thrones before you're old enough. Sigh.

Yesterday we both had something to really worry about: a Raptor that was bigger than Poppy came into our garden! Poppy had just got back from Mrs D where she'd had her hair cut and three ticks pulled out. Mum was snuffling her because she's all smooth and silky after her hair cut and it's the only time it's safe to snuggle Pop without fear of catching a horribly disfiguring disease, when I decided to go outside. Poppy instantly squirmed and wriggled until Mum put her down and she came rushing up to see what I was barking at. Mum thought it was the neighbours, and as I'm not allowed to do that (?) she came out to tell me off and found us instead both standing stock still, slightly uncertain what to do, in front of a GINORMOUS BIRD which was lying on its back at our feet, with its wings spread out and its feet sticking up at us and its beak all bloody and its chest feathers all covered in gore. It was a Buzzard, and Mum thought we'd injured it!

I didn't know whether to be proud or amazed, so I settled on bewildered. I know I have a reputation as a particularly fierce kind of Westie, and it's certainly true that Poppy is a Jack Russell and they are not for the faint hearted, but even I was a little taken aback at Mum's unwavering confidence in my ability to take down a buzzard. It was nearly as big as me, for heaven's sake.

After a moment's reflection and seeing perhaps the way I was eyeing the enormous creature warily (have you ever had a Buzzard's talons shoved in your face? Or its beak. Or its eye either, come to that- terrifying), she changed her mind and decided we might be in more danger of having our eyes gouged out by it, so she ooshed us back to the house, nearly treading on the eviscerated rat that the buzzard had been ripping apart (which is what brought it to the garden in the first place and explained the blood on my chest and nose) on the way.

By now Mum was in a conundrum. You all know she has a habit of rescuing wounded Wild Things, but even Mum knows you don't just casually pick up a Bird of Prey. They can tighten their talons around a human wrist right down to the bone if they want to. What a skill to have, eh? So she collected a thick jumper and rushed back outside while Poppy hopped up and down and called out anxiously Be Careful, Mum! But luckily as she reached it the buzzard hopped back up on to its feet, squirted out what was probably a worried poo (we've all been there) and flew off, chased by a pair of scolding blackbirds. What Drama, eh?

Mum keeps telling anyone who'll listen (and, to be honest, plenty who don't really want to, like the man who fitted part of the kitchen this morning and the other man who came to do the taps- I could tell by the glazed look in their eyes) all about it, because she's never seen that kind of behaviour in a wild bird before. She thinks the whole lying on its back was a defensive thing, akin to playing dead, which some raptors do (apparently, but if anyone knows different please leave a message to that effect in the comments and I'll pass it on to her. It might stop her talking about it).

Anyway, we had all been so distracted by the Episode Of The Buzzard that I'd completely forgotten to laugh at Poppy's haircut and by the time I remembered it seemed a rather futile gesture, so we went to sleep on our beds instead, to get over the excitement/ shock.

I hope this missive finds all my friends well? Poppy has been playing a lot of football recently, as you can see from the photo montage. Apparently, she was hopeful she might get chosen to play in Euro 2016, which I can only assume has something to do with the Referendum.

Best regards as always,

Ted x

The Garden

When we moved here, ten years ago, the garden wasn't what it is now. It was a dark, damp, unloved place, over-run with rabbits who ate everything and plants that looked thin and sickly. As a consequence, there were no flowers and not much in the way of wildlife either. 

My husband is a committed vegetable grower, that was the first change we wrought. My attention turned towards the garden properly about three summers ago when, for various reasons, I shifted focus from outside home to into it. We've worked hard at creating a garden that works for us and provides home, food and shelter for the wildlife we share this space with. We've cut down, cut back and cut out, and we've shifted around, created, introduced, sown and grown. 

The two ponds (one wildlife, one fish) began to teem about three days after we made them. The first damselflies and dragonflies eclosed out of both ponds at their first anniversary (possibly the dragons had come in on introduced vegetation). Now we have three resident species of damsel (Red, Common Blue, Blue-Tailed) and three dragons (Broad Bodied Chaser, Southern Hawker and Common Darter) living in the wildlife pond, along with newts, various water beetles and, new for this year, at least one leech.

I keep Garden Lists each year of everything I see in the garden and the list grows steadily. We have rarities like Longhorn and Stag Beetles (creatures of rotting wood piles and ancient woodland) and the also rare Silver Washed Fritillary and Purple Emperor Butterflies. We have quiet, secretive souls like Grass Snakes, and night-time visitors of Tawny and Barn Owls, a Hedgehog and of course my moths, with over 400 different moth species visiting the garden each year. Two Pipistrelle bats nest in the eaves of the house and hunt over the garden at dusk, picking off the mozzies who come out of the pond. On at least one occasion I've seen a Noctule fly over. Several species of bee come to the garden (the Swarm, in case you were wondering, turned up in force before sunset and sat on the chimney pot for an hour or two considering their options before detaching and going off elsewhere), and the elusive Sparrowhawk who hunts occasionally nearby definitely visited this weekend and lunched on one of the Goldfinches. The Great Spotted Woodpecker's Child also arrived, with his red flat-cap, and went off again shrieking hysterically when he caught sight of me with the camera. A welcome return was made by the Marsh Tit, whom I think has chicks nearby, and all the usual gang are still here: sparrows, starlings, blackbirds, magpies, blackcaps, jackdaws, pigeons, collared doves, stock doves, dunnocks, great tits, blue tits, coal tits, nuthatches, wrens, robins, green finches. The list goes on. But the point is they weren't all here ten years ago. 

The presence in the garden of so much wildlife, from the birds to the reptiles to the insect life, is down to the planting, and the fact we don't use poisons or chemicals of any description on the land here. If a plant has been grown to produce colour but has no nectar or pollen, we don't put it in. I leave the stalks of the year's growth over winter for insects to hibernate and breed in, and then scythe them down in late April and add them to the compost. We have areas of long grass year round which provide protection, food and breeding spaces, and we have a few places where small log piles have been left. Sometimes we bring back tree stumps and put them by the side of the garage where the wildflower meadow is and it always amazes me a year or two later to realise that they've disintegrated, used up by the insects who need them. In the autumn, the gravel path is settled on by Red Admiral and Comma butterflies who need the warm micro-climate gravel or stones offer to warm up, and the two compost heaps draw female Grass Snakes every summer. I know this because we find the empty eggs when we dig them over and use them to mulch the garden the following spring. There are places set aside for nettles, goosegrass, willowherbs, docks and thistles because, although gardeners may frown on them, these plants are some of the most important in the insect life-cycle. I made a herb garden out of a small strip of space and it is now thick with sage, thyme, marjoram and others, all starting to bloom and all used here in the kitchen. Fresh herbs roughly chopped and added to homemade pastry are fab (and healthy).

This summer we're digging four new beds. One has asparagus in it (grown from seed so its wispy right now) and the other three are for flowers. I've stuffed one with Nepeta, two kinds of Salvia, Verbascum, Veronica, Scabious and Red Valerian and I spend hours sitting beside it watching the bees work. They captivate me utterly with their busy buzzing. If you want bees stick Nepeta in your garden, or lithodora (but Nepeta will flower longer). If you've only got space for a pot or two they'll still come. The other plants that have drawn huge amounts of insects this summer are Poached Egg plants, Ox-Eye Daisies and Viper's Bugloss. The latter is planted beside a clump of Scabious and the bees buzz happily between the two from dawn to dusk. I grew it from seed and it takes two years to flower, but it is well worth it, producing tall spikes of purple/ pink flowers that the bees absolutely love.

I am open to thoughts as to what to put in the other two beds so please let me have your ideas. I'm not a fan of neat planting, much preferring the billowy and wild to the clipped and formal, but I would like one of the beds to be for cut flowers. Any ideas gratefully received. I know from reading your blogs that there is a vast pool of horticultural knowledge among bloggers: real people with real gardens who understand the joys and the occasional frustrations of creating and working with land and plants :o)

Last week I went out to get new taps for the bath (don't ask) and returned with a boot stuffed full of plants I didn't know I needed until I saw them and they whispered to me. Star Jasmine to trail over the new pergola (Hummingbird Hawk Moths love this plant and the scent is heavenly), Coreopsis, three Dahlias, two Freesias, a Gazania and two Garvineas. Have you met Garvineas yet? I have a weakness for Gerberas and bought eight plug plants on ebay last week (in defiance of the derisory snorts of a friend who runs a garden centre and holds firm that they are not worth the trouble of growing, but as I only want them as cut flowers I thought it was worth the gamble). Imagine my delight when I discovered Garvineas, a hardy new Gerbera (I may just have broken the low-or-no nectar rule here because I've yet to see any insects on them but I figure I'm allowed one exception). The two I bought are shamelessly gaudy and are now sitting in one of the new plots beside disco margerites, cosmos and leucanthemum.

I re-sowed one of the wildflower patches because the new mix I put in a month or so back wasn't working and instead of smiling when I looked at it I was grimacing. That's a good, simple test of whether you've got planting right, I think. I also think this kind of freedom, to move things about and try something new when something isn't right or isn't working is one of the most positive of all the life-affirming elements of gardening. It's taken me a while to understand that it's OK to change planting if you aren't happy with it. It all gets returned to the earth eventually. We should now get drifts of cornflowers, larkspur, corn cockles, poppies and various others lighting up the late summer months and drawing in the bees hoverflies and butterflies. I will post photos.

So that's the garden. With the addition of various trees that I haven't mentioned but who also play host to wildlife. Our oldest apple tree proved the perfect spot to hang Clearwing moth pheromone lures last week when I tried them out. No Clearwings came but we've all summer to keep trying. And the Bean Tree really is looking marvellous, with its bright glowing green leaves against the hard purple of the neighbouring cherry. And soon it'll be time to look out for Shieldbug eggs on the clematis and hopefully this summer the Mock Oranges I put in last winter will bloom, and then later there's the Callicarpa to be awed by. So much to look forward to.

Hope all is well in your gardens. Such special places.

CT :o)

Of Bees And Baby Birds

j

At the risk of encouraging an online reputation as a consumer of puddings and very little else, I give you the above : a Forgotten Pudding. Have you tried/ made one before? This one came courtesy of nigella and is basically a meringue put in when the oven is at 220 and then switched off and left to cook very slowly throughout the night. The resulting creation is little short of heaven (especially when smothered in vanilla cream and topped with fresh fruit). Licking the spoon and gazing seductively at the camera (should there happen to be one present whilst you are cooking- it doesn't happen to me all that often I confess) is, of course, optional. I found I managed to make it Quite Well without.

We have baby birds and bees coming out of our ears here this week. All sorts of bees and all sorts of baby birds. It's rare for me to get through Spring without at least one small feathered creature turning up and asking for help. So far this season there have been two. First, the Small Goldfinch you'll see in my hands in the pic. They are nesting in the wisteria and he fell/ flew out. After checking him over and looking in vain for his parents, I managed to persuade him to get off my hand and hop down into the bushes to await their return. This was somewhat hampered when he flew back out of the bushes and on to my knee, but we got there in the end.

Second, was a baby Robin who had an extremely rough day yesterday. It started badly when he flew into the patio door and stunned himself. M put him out of dog reach on the patio table (forgetting that Pop likes to climb on the table to stare at the fishermen) and forgot to tell me. The baby duly recovered and, unbeknown to me, hid by the garage where the rats nest, so of course when the dogs showed an interest I assumed it was a rats nest and left them to it. After several hours, they emerged triumphant with a small brown speckled baby robin clamped in their jaws. Pop snatched him from Ted and then dropped him when I bellowed. Scooping him up I was certain he was a gonner, gasping with beak open and eyes shut, little heart racing and utterly limp in my hands.
I sat beneath the Willow tree and whispered a prayer that together the tree and I might save him. Twenty minutes later he opened his eyes, shut his beak and hopped upright in my hands. I put him in the same place as the Goldfinch (who by then had disappeared, hopefully reunited with parents) with the same level of difficulty because warm sheltering hands are preferable to a cold shrub apparently, and left him some water and grub because the poor soul hadn't eaten or drank all day. I checked this morning and he's gone too. Fingers crossed.

Apart from these two there are blue tit, great tit, blackbird, and coal tit children in the garden all screaming for food from anyone who'll listen. The Blue tit's Child did Quite Well in almost persuading a Great tit to feed him. I wish I'd had the camera to record the look of momentary confusion on the Great tit's face as he contemplated this small, blue, demanding feathered thing. The Coal tit's parent got stuck in the greenhouse and required rescuing (although between you and I I suspect he went in there for a moment's peace) and I had to perform emergency surgery on a Red Damselfly who eclosed out of the pond with two of his wings stuck together. I am proficient at this operation, having performed it last summer on a Broad Bodied Chaser Dragon so I knew what to do and with a little gentle persuasion the wings sprang free and non-wonky flight was achieved.

On the Bee Front, there is currently a small-ish swarm of honey bees waggle dancing on the wall outside the back door literally as I type. I've not seen a waggle dance performed close up before and it did make me smile. They rush round and round in a circle waggling themselves energetically. Apparently, they are absolutely certain that a hole in the bricks in the wall (which they seem to have forgotten they considered and rejected a few weeks back) is the most des res for bees around, and I rather suspect more of them will turn up to attempt moving in before nightfall. This sort of thing happens here on a fairly regular basis and I tend to let them just get on with it - once they've had enough they generally move on elsewhere.

My clinic roof is currently playing host to a nest of tree bees who land on the wall and waddle charmingly up into the roof in a fairly constant stream. The nepeta and salvia buzzes with early bumbles and carder bees by day, and a huge swarm of Silver Y moths by night. The latter turned up this week after flying over the sea. I think it'll be a good year for them. We also have thirty Small Magpie moths living round the pond who flit about at dusk like a small cloud and the moth box this week yielded four Poplar Hawks and one Elephant, so things are hotting up.

It's been a fabulous week for wildlife here already, possibly topped off on Monday by the appearance of a Barn Owl, who floated across the lane right in front of me in the gloaming as I was seeking a pair of yowling, shrieking Tom cats. There is something about Barn Owls. Badger Cam has also come up trumps with several badgers romping about, scent marking, gobbling up peanuts and scratching for the camera each night it's been out. I await cubs :o)

Hope all are well?

CT.