One for Daniel

Two of the twelve books I read during our recent Australian holiday -- on the parts of it when I was hiding from the kiddies in the bedroom at Albany, rather than the parts of it when we were swimming in waterfalls, photographing crocodiles and flying over the Arnhem Escarpment in the Top End -- concerned Alexander the Great. He is clearly something of an obsession of mine, although it's taken me some years to realise this -- you buy a book on post-Alexandrian Hellenism in the early 1990s, watch Michael Wood's In The Footsteps Of... television series later that decade, buy the DVD of Oliver Stone's film some years later, read the classic biography by Robin Lane Fox....

Anway, a few days after we returned to the UK, I ambled into the branch of Model Zone near my office, looking for a box of model figurines entitled "Ancient Life" -- featuring characters reclining on couches drinking wine, reciting poetry and all the other things that ancient characters did at home -- which had been drawn to my attention by Maureen and which I thought might be quite amusing to assemble and paint. The shop didn't have that, but rather than leave immediately I found my attention drawn to the various boxes of model soldiers of the ancient world produced by the same (Russian) company -- Republican Romans, Carthaginians, Scythians, cataphracts of an indeterminate nationality....and Macedonians and Greeks of the 4th-3rd centuries BCE, as led by Alexander into Asia to destroy the Persian Empire.

Yes. (You're surely ahead of me here.) I bought a box each of Macedonian cavalry, a Macedonian phalanx, and Greek hoplites. "It's just as well you have plenty of free time, isn't it?" said Judith when I showed them to her later. Indeed it is. With a bit of luck, I might even get around to painting and mounting them before I retire from full-time work in a couple of years' time. Even though I really ought to acquire some Persian model soldiers to oppose them as well....

Home Again Home Again, Bippety-Boop

We are back home in London again, safe and well, save for one moment of excitement as we approached Singapore Changi airport at the end of the Darwin-Singapore leg of the flight: the aircraft descended towards the runway, the flaps extended, the wheels were lowered, the engines began to be throttled back, the runway lights slipped past underneath us....and then suddenly the nose pitched upwards at a sharp angle, the engine noise increased to a roar, and the aircraft climbed back into the sky. I suggested to Judith that the landing had been aborted at the last moment because of another aircraft on the runway; this was confirmed a few minutes later by the pilot apologising for the "missed approach" because of a "slower than expected" aircraft ahead of us. "Two landings for the price of one," said Judith. How close we came to going KABAM! KABOOM! KABAMMY-BOOM! may be known only to the Singapore Air Traffic Control people investigating the incident (and perhaps to the inattentive ATC officer who may now be in peril of their job). Certainly, if we'd actually touched down before the abort instruction had been given, it would have been very difficult to take off again....

I then slept most of the way from Singapore to London (more than Judith, in fact); since arrival home, we have unpacked, been to Tesco to replenish the larder, had an early lunch (because we had an early breakfast, at 4.00am, so it feels later than it actually is), and then I cut the grass and sorted my mail while Judith napped for a couple of hours. She is now processing the worm compost in preparation for a trip to the allotment tomorrow, to catch up with things there. The only other issue of note to report is that our robin's nest has not survived our absence, having been pulled out of its hiding place on the fence (presumably by a cat or, more likely, a fox). What happened to the chicks (if indeed they hatched) we cannot say. However, it seems unlikely that any bird would wish to use that nest site again: thus the end of the first and perhaps last attempt by a bird to nest in our garden. Bum poo donkey smells, as we sometimes say.

Exciting News!

There are five eggs in the robin's nest. (Photograph taken a few minutes ago -- presumably the bird was off foraging somewhere.)

Zena - arrival time?

Z have tried dto email you, asking what time on Thu 14 you actually arrive Perth, so we can plan when to head for the big cottage to meet you... Pls email Rosie and me with your flight time details. Hope you all had a good time at Smith Lake...

Spring Flowers

Not sure what this one is called. (Were there a Wugster about, I could ask.) It's growing against the shady fence, where it never gets direct sunlight, which is presumably its preferred habitat.

A Forest of Dandelions

I went to the allotment this morning, to strim the grass before departure for Australia; that took an hour, which was about half the time I expected to spend on the task. It was such a lovely sunny day -- unseasonably warm for April; so warm in the sunshine that I was, as is my wont on such occasions, legging about in next to nothing -- that I was tempted to stay, and dig out the dandelions which always sprout at this time (but only, thankfully, in the beds we didn't dig over in February or March to take the bean and potato crops). But I couldn't because this afternoon was the 2011 AGM of the Tottenham Civic Society, of which I am (and was re-elected as) the secretary. (I was sorely tempted to propose an emergency motion to move the meeting, in a hired room at Bruce Castle, to the lawn outside, but then our guest's presentation wouldn't have worked -- no cabling of the length required, ambient light too strong for anyone to see the screen, etc. etc..) Instead, I took a couple of photographs of the dandelion crop. By the time we return, a month from now, the flowers will have been replaced by puffballs, and indeed the seeds of the puffballs almost certainly have been released hither and yon, generating colossal quantities of dandelions all over the plot next spring. So be not surprised if I utter a curse or two about the timing of Kellie's wedding as I fork over the soil in April and May 2012....

Photographs of Spring 2011

I've added some more photos to the Facebook photo album of the signs of spring in our back garden over the past couple of weeks. Use the embedded link to view the new images.

Robin Redbreast Again

The robin on its nest in the ivy, photographed about half an hour ago this morning. I took several such photographs; it seemed remarkably unperturbed by the whole business.

Robin Redbreast

We have put feed out for the birds every day since we bought our house. Having started with a wooden RSPB birdtable (which ultimately succumbed to the weather, and disintegrated), we now have an array of feeding stations, caged or hung in such a way as to prevent the local squirrels from getting at them (and, inter alia, also excluding the larger birds such as feral pigeons -- in fact, the feral pigeons seem to have given up on our garden, and "larger birds" now means exclusively wood pigeons and collared doves). But not once in the past seventeen years have we ever had birds nesting in our garden -- chiefly if not wholly because we have no suitable nest sites: the only trees are fruit trees and, except for a few spots, the wooden fences are kept clear for food plants to grow up.

The weekend just past, however....

On Sunday, Judith was cutting back some sweet cecily on the southern side of the garden (i.e., adjacent to the north-facing fence) when she spotted a robin fluttering around the ivy which cloaks the part of the fence next to the greenhouse. It flew past her and down onto our small lawn, which had been given its first cut of the year on Saturday afternoon, and picked up some of the newly exposed moss. Nest-building material? Indisputably -- it flew back into the ivy, and a minute or so later came out in search of another beakful.

We retreated into the greenhouse, to both give it more space and get a better view of the nest it was constructing. By evening the following day (i.e., yesterday) it appeared to be finished: you had to know where to look, but the curve of the bowl was quite clear. But of the bird itself there was no sign -- not sitting in the nest, not flitting about the garden, not singing from the trees in the adjacent gardens. Nor was there any sign of it this morning (although the drizzly, blustery weather this morning was not conducive to birds being out and about).

The overriding problem with the nest site, however, is that it is startlingly low down: on the bottom of the fence's two horizontal rails and thus only about a foot off the ground, which makes it hugely vulnerable to predation by the neighbourhood cats (not to mention the local squirrels and the local foxes whom we know have visited our garden in the past). Although adult robins are tough little birds which should be able to escape if attacked, whether their nestlings will make it to the fledging stage (if indeed the eggs aren't taken before they hatch) is another matter altogether. But was the bird's absence a sign that it had already been attacked, and was either dead or had abandoned the nest before laying a single egg?

We don't know. Nor, if the bird has survived, will we know what happens in the immediate future, because we are shortly due to depart for a few weeks in Australia, and will therefore be away for most of the period during which we can expect eggs to be laid and hatched. We hope very much that will happen, and that a brood of robin chicks will be there on our return; otherwise, we may have only the bowl of the nest to remind us that a bird was once there at all.

Another Sign of Spring

The pear blossom in our back garden, taken about an hour ago.

Spring is Sprung, the Grass is Riz....

Well, maybe not quite yet. But, posted to Facebook (and tagged as public so that everyone can see them) are five photographs of the back garden -- pear blossom, daffodils, other flowery things -- that I took this morning while the sun shone and the temperature, though not exactly warm, was bearable enough. But then I'm part Scots, I can wander around outside in a pair of running shorts and look suitably macho (or nearest equivalent) for the neighbours. Must be my Scottish genes, or something....

The Gardening Year Continues

To the allotment this afternoon, to plant out our potatoes....or some of them, anyway: there wasn't space for all of them in the one bed. So next weekend we'll have to dig up our remaining leeks and turn that bed over to potatoes as well.

Here's some photographs of Judith digging trenches for the potatoes we did plant out and then covering them over with some nice rich compost from one of our bins.





Meanwhile, having renewed one set of bed edging -- and having identified two other sets which also need replacing -- I sorted through the planks stacked against the side of the shed to weed out those which had been there for too long and had started to rot. That meant, in the event, most of them, which must teach me a thing or two about hoarding stuff: it would surely have been more productive for them to have rotted in the ground. But it does mean that before I can renew any more bed edging I'll need to break up the wooden fork lift pallet that's been on the allotment since, er, last September, I think....

Magnolia Stellata

Here is a photograph of the Magnolia stellata to which Judith referred in her previous post, looking very attractive in the cool of the morning. The photograph was taken at 7.00am on Monday (three days ago) in those few minutes when the sun is still rising above the horizon and the sky is still an opalescent grey. (I had just been out jogging to fetch the newspaper.)

Gardening Notes

This week, my magnolia
Is in star, a white galaxy.
Spring supernova!

Spring bursting out all over: purple-blue pulmonaria (lungwort) carpet the front garden, under the star magnolia, mixed in with crocuses. Grape hyacinths (muscari) are pushing up their flowering stalks, so are forget-me-nots. My Maysie Memorial Garden at the end of the street is a mass of crocuses and daffodils, with patches of lungwort and forget-me-not starting to do their stuff. Interesting to note that the west-facing (afternoon sun) side seems to be coming out about two weeks in advance of the east-facing (morning sun) side, which the sun has to warm up from night-time chill before it passes over to an already warmed up west side. Down the allotment, I sowed some rows of brassicas and radish today, lured down by sunny morning, with the soil warm to the touch. Then a chill east wind brought clouds, and I headed back to city life.

I planted out shallots and leek seeds into the same bed a couple of weeks ago, and have two beds of broad beans, early peas and lettuce. JN dug up what will be this year's potato bed at the weekend -- which may have something to do with his back now creaking and requiring pummelation. I'll probably 'pink manure' red orache and cornflower seed liberally over beds not needed for early planting -- let them fallow over April.

Having taken on co-chairing Growing in Haringey, the umbrella network for community gardens and sustainable food activity in the borough, I now need to do paperwork -- secured a small 'Local Lead' grant from Capital Growth, so have to organise getting it spent. The key thing we're using it for is to pay for at least a small amount of core organising work, to hold together communications. keep track of the various things being done on volunteer basis, and manage event organising particularly for the summer round of local outdoor festivals. Better get back to it...

The Gardening Year Resumes

The problem with writing about gardening is of course that it repeats -- unless you grow something different each and every year (which is perhaps theoretically possible), you'll end up with umpteen iterations of the number of broad bean seedlings you planted that day, or how much had to be pruned from the raspberry canes. But sometimes that is exactly what you want to say, irrespective of how many times it's been said before, because yesterday was a really mild, pleasant day -- the first mild, pleasant day we've had this year, and a welcome change after the cold weather that seemed to dominate February, with the wind out of the north and temperatures too low to spend any length of time out of doors.

So yesterday we hustled off down the allotment, me to dig over a couple of beds and Judith to plant stuff, and both of us to harvest stuff. The broccoli has begun to brockle, so we picked some of that -- and here's a photograph of a purple sprouting broccoli, our favourite -- and, with some of our leeks, turned it into broccoli cheese for dinner.



We also planted our broad bean seedlings, and here's a photograph of them, with their anti-pigeon and anti-fox defences -- the stakes keep the foxes out; the plastic bottles rattling in the wind stop the pigeons from pecking off the tender shoots -- and the cardboard tubes in which the seedlings were grown left to rot down alongside them.



Our next tasks will be to plant out our potatoes and repair some of the bed edging. In the meantime, there is frogspawn in the allotment pond and new growth on the raspberry canes: at last, it really does feel like spring.