All neat-n-tidy.

It is said that you can always tell a good tradesman by the way he leaves his work site each evening.

I think I can say that this man's example is impeccable. He is superb!

Everything swept clean, and all his tools neat and tidy. He puts me to shame.

Another 4 months to wait.

Four whole months to go before we'll open the pool. It seems like decades away. In the meantime, we have to look out onto the drab scene above.

                            

At least this next picture reminds me that Summer is out there somewhere, and that T Shirts, bare feet, and wet hair will once again be a part of everyday life again.

The combination of hot sunshine and a cooling pool seem like a distant dream at the moment, so I need to look at pictures (such as the above) to remind me that it really does exist.

Did I ever mention that I really hate Winter? 

Jerusalem Artichokes.

There's a small field quite near us that is 100% overgrown with Artichokes. I hadn't grown any myself for several years, so last Winter I pulled at one of the dead stems and lifted out a few tubers for planting at Haddock's. Above is part of the result.

They're a rather old fashioned vegetable. They're very difficult to peel, they give you awful wind, but they are delicious.

We always used to make soup with them (whizzed-up Artichokes, Celery, and Cream), but I also like them roasted, or boiled then fried. Either way they have a wonderful flavour.

They're regarded mostly as Pig fodder over here, but they are a vegetable not to be ignored.

The last time I grew them, I bought some beautiful large round smooth-skinned tubers from an Asian shop in Brighton. Thinking that they were a new variety I happily sowed a whole row. When I harvested them, they had annoyingly reverted to the usual knobbly type we all know and love. 

Great flavour, but you just have to accept that they're bug*ers to peel; and to keep your windows open!

Chestnut Leaves.

In the past, at this time of year, the Chestnut trees would be totally devoid of leaves, but this year there are two types of dead leaves; one lot clinging-on, and another lot underneath. (see above).

Still clinging to the trees they are small and twisted, and on the ground they are normal Chestnut leaf shape; the former died on the trees mid-season, and the latter fell to the ground in Autumn.

This illustrates the problem we are facing with the Cynips wasp. When this tiny parasitic insect lays her eggs amongst the year's new shoots, it kills off the growth, resulting in masses of dead wrinkled leaves throughout the growing season. This can eventually lead to the death of the whole tree. At a minimum it will drastically reduce the crop of the tree by anything up to 80 or 90%.

Cynips originally arrived in the South of France in 2002, when it was instantly dealt with by cutting and burning every affected tree; this cured the problem at once. Cynips returned again in 2010 and has since spread to a much wider area; including ours.

Much beard tugging and head scratching has since taken place, and certain preventative/curative measures are already being tested. However, it doesn't look good for the future of Chestnut growing in our area, although there are still new plantations popping-up here and there, as certain varieties are less prone to the problem than others.

The Chestnut tree, either wild or grafted, is an essential part of our landscape; to see them all die out would be disastrous.

Half-Wholemeal Focaccia.

Our wood-fired cooker will be lit less frequently from now on. The frosty, -6 C, mornings should be less common, and slightly more balmy temperatures well above zero are promised.

So, as we have probably lit our oven for the last time for a while, I attempted some Focaccia. I used half/half wholemeal and ordinary flour, and proceeded as per usual.

I looks good, smells good, and tastes pretty good. Next time, however, I'll revert to my usual 100% ordinary white flour. I don't think the wholemeal flour added anything to the final product.

Compost Bags.

France is usually towards the head of the race when it comes to all things 'environmental'.

You probably heard recently that our supermarkets are no longer allowed to throw away food; These bags are another example of public environmental awareness.

I bought a couple of small purple tinged Turnips recently, and noticed that the bags on offer were totally different to the usual ones. They are very silky to the touch, and are printed with a message saying that they can actually be COMPOSTED. 

I tried never to use the old plastic bags; I just stuck the price label on whatever I was buying. Now I shan't feel too guilty if I'm forced to use a bag.

It will go into my compost bucket, and help to grow next year's Tomatoes. Bravo!

Legacy.

After my people died, I had the unpleasant task of emptying their quite large Shropshire home. They had managed to squeeze the contents of three houses into one!

A few bits of the furniture were actually mine, but by far the majority was sent off to a saleroom in Shrewsbury where it was sold for a pittance. 

Luckily I had the foresight to keep a couple of bits as keepsakes. My father's small desk, that was a gift from his father, had been part of a set of furniture made specially for him by their local carpenter in Sussex. It comprised of a table and 6 chairs, a sideboard, and the small desk itself; all made in limed Oak. The pieces were destined for his rooms in Milk Street, in The City. Nowadays one would simply head for Ikea.

However, amongst a few small things that I couldn't let go were the above. My father's antique corkscrew, and his almost-antique Owl bottle opener.

I use neither, but they sit at the back of our infamous untidy kitchen drawer waiting patiently. There are certain things that have such strong ties to one's past that they could never be let go; these two are such. 

My own sons have little interest in antiques, but I'd like them to hang on to these.