That bloody 'tower' again. (An anti-Halloween posting)

I thought I'd end the tower's first year of existence by showing you how well all the plants have fared. Basically there are just 3 plants on the East side (the side you can see); a Vine, a Wisteria, and, protected from the animals, in the corner, a Fig. The big bushy thing in front of the interconnecting wall is a common pink flowering Lavatera, and I have made an arch with the vines over the gate.

Next year I expect all of these to really perform. In fact I hope it to be swamped by Summer.

On the North and West walls are two Clematis, a Nelly Moser, and a Montana; two classic 'doers' that have almost reached the roof. There is also a climbing Hydrangea 'Schizophragma' that has already started to send out healthy looking clinging shoots.

My aim is to have the whole building swathed in foliage so that the walls almost disappear. The fun part will then be to cut back and leave what will eventually become more permanent.

Hardware on Wheels.

Here in darkest, rural, France profonde, we regularly receive these small hardware catalogues that arrive with the post. Inside is everything from chimney cleaning rods, to home welding kits, and fail-proof rat traps. Yesterday morning I visited this particular one to buy a large, heavy duty, tarpaulin, to cover the pool for winter (my old one is in shreds). 

And this is what the 'shop' looks like. They park-up somewhere central, open the side doors, and, after a couple of hours, are off to the next town. Many years ago these mobile traders were a life-line to country folk, but now everything is available locally, and they've started to disappear.

When we first arrived in France 40 years ago, similar, but much smaller, traders would call by our house on a regular basis. There were clothes vans, groceries, a butcher, a baker, and an agricultural supplies van. At the time we very pleased to have these people stop by, as it saved us the long trek into town. In fact we used to buy things that we didn't even need, just to keep them coming. Nowadays they are all but gone; even the baker no longer calls. Shame! 

Dead Badger.

If you should venture reasonably close to chez Cro, you may think that there are bizarre ritualistic offerings afoot.

In fact it's just me putting the dead carcasses of Badgers up into the trees; out of the reach of the dogs.

My neighbour, who is desperate to reduce our huge Badger population, tends to leave the dead creatures lying where they were caught. When completely putrid, there's nothing more attractive to both Monty and his friend Bok than to roll in the stinking, fly-blown, mess, and return to the house with huge smiles across their faces.  

So, with the aid of a long stick, and a clothes peg, I put them out of harm's way. It does look as if we practice some unpleasant form of Voodoo, but in fact it's far less interesting. Our next big bonfire will see them gone!

1st Pomegranate.

I'd be pretty chuffed if our climate allowed the culture of bananas, or mangoes, or even oranges, so you can imagine how happy I am that, at long last, I've managed to grow my very first (very small) pomegranate.

I don't know why, but the idea of growing pomegranates seems very exotic to me. Sadly one can't eat them because they're much too sour, but just looking at them on a tree is pleasure enough. It's a bloody POMEGRANATE for goodness sake.

Maybe it's because when I was a child a pomegranate was a very special treat. Those nasty little red seeds with their rather acrid flavour seemed the height of sophistication, regardless of how ghastly they tasted.

My trees/bushes are only about 5 years old, so I presume they've only just come into maturity. Next year I shall expect a bumper crop.... I know, I know; just something else to put on the compost.

Why force it......?

Both Monty and Freddie prefer to drink directly from the tap (Faucet, US. Force it; geddit?).

Monty outside (thank goodness), and Freddie inside. I've tried to explain to them that it's exactly the same water as I put in their bowls, but they insist!

Lady M; watercolour painter.

Lady Magnon is not one to bang her own drum, so I shall do it for her.

Imagine driving up a long hill from the North Shropshire plains, way up onto the top of the first of the rolling Welsh hills, on a stretch where Offa, the King of Mercia, built his 8th Century dyke. It was here that my people had a couple of cottages between the 1960's and late 70's (such things were fashionable then).

The view from behind the cottages, looking west, was the subject of these two watercolours; a view that never failed to amaze, regardless of season, weather, or time of day.

The top watercolour is exactly as I remember it, and it takes me back immediately. The lower one (terrible photo I'm afraid) hides a tiny hamlet called Rhydycroesau in amongst the valley's trees.

Lady Magnon painted these two watercolours in about 1970 whilst we were house hunting in the area. We stayed for a couple of months in one of the cottages, and she painted the landscape constantly. These two are my absolute favourites.

The Grands.

For all of us who have them, our own grandchildren are the brightest, best looking, future conquerors of the world. Rarely can they do wrong, or be criticised in any way. And, having just received these photos of my two London based boys, I think I now have a small insight into how their futures might pan out.

Ollie, above, will certainly become a fireman.... he never quits his fireman's helmet....or stops showing-off his 6-pack. I've no idea what those green things are.... or why he keeps them tucked into his trousers.

And Harvey J will no doubt become a transatlantic pilot. He's even got his own plane (well, he borrowed it for a bit)! Chocks away Harv'....