Lazy Sunday Morning ~~~

Gentle Reader ~~~ oh! it is a glorious Autumn morning in the Shire ~~~ the sun is shining, warming and brightening everything it touches with a golden glow; the sky is blue and giant cotton puffs billow in the breeze.  This is the kind of morning that makes my heart sing, waking up to, and greet with a smile, breathing deeply of the air and the view as the curtains are drawn back from across the window panes.

I have yet to put a photograph on this new laptop ~ which is proving somewhat of a headache for a techno~phobe such as myself.  Why, just this last week I discovered {in addition to all the mystery of Cloud storage ~ which still defies me} the laptop does not come with any kind of word processing programme.  This, to me, is a necessary part of technology, for in the progression from typewriter to word processor, on again to computers that connected by way of cables and jacks to printers with daisy wheels, and now by wi~fi connectivity to inkjets and laser printing devices, it goes beyond my limited and reluctant acceptance of advancing technology why the new laptop has no form of recording words other than to use in emails or blogs.  It troubles me deeply that, even if it is electronically, I am denied the pleasure of typing!  As I suffer with arthritis, typing is much easier for me than holding a pen, and I am, frankly, aghast at this lack of word~smithing technology! {have I just made up some words?}

Fortunately, I have my old disks from way back when and they, with much ado, are recognised and loaded on to the hard drive, so I will, hopefully, from today, be able to type documents {isn't that what we used to call letters?} and with a tiny bit of luck and a prayer as I wade through the mire of passwords and other mind boggling traps, next time there will be fresh photographs.  I'm crossing everything and hoping videos will be back on the menu too!  Rather than leave this post void of images, I think I will recycle some of the older photographs from the beginning of this blog.

So, today, it is the anniversary of my Grandmother's birth in 1896. She passed in 1977, but is still much loved and greatly missed.  She is one of the people who I always wish those who have come into my life since she passed could have met.  It is to her, I believe, I owe much of my love of gardening, walking, and appreciation of the natural world.  The poem in the sidebar {please do read the whole poem, for many know the following stanza well ~~~

The kiss of the sun for pardon,

The song of the birds for mirth,--

One is nearer God's heart in a garden

Than anywhere else on earth.

but few know the rest of the poem.  It was her favourite, and I often recite little bits of it when I am gardening.  I often wonder what the neighbours think, if they can hear!  Crazy, word muttering, gardening woman in a large, floppy hat!  Maybe they think I'm a witch! 

Nanna was as a mother to me when I was a small child, and until her health deteriorated very rapidly when I was aged around ten years, we spent many a Sunday afternoon traipsing along the country lanes and byways of the Shire.  A devout Christian, the order of each Sunday commenced with church services for her, Sunday School for me, then home for Sunday roast dinner with Mum and Dad.  Between church and sitting down to Sunday dinner she would rustle up one of her delicious apple pies, served with hot custard sauce.  She made the best pastry ever, and for many years worked as the pastry chef for one of the local restaurants.  My Mum has inherited her ability, but mine is more for baking cakes than making pastries.  I digress ~~~ it was after those Sunday dinners we would take off into the wilds ~~~ and I would be taught the names of every flowering plant and grass encountered on the way.  During the week, when I wasn't in school, we would be gardening in our own garden, and indoors tending her many house plants and cacti. In those days we also kept hens {something I long to do again today}

She was just nineteen years of age when World War One broke out, and this picture is of her, sitting, with her younger brother Jim {who lied about his age so that he could go and fight for King and Country} right before he left for the trenches in France.  

She was a fine looking woman, but, oh! my! doesn't she look so young here?  

During both World Wars she did what she could as a volunteer.  In WWII she joined the Women's Voluntary Service {WVS} and played an active part in preparedness exercises within the local community.  Thankfully, she was never called to do more than prepare and support, for, mercifully, our little corner of Britain was, for the most part, spared the horrors of that war.  My mother recalls, with some horror, her fear at seeing her own mother taking part in the fire drills, shimmying over the high and sloping rooftops of the cathedral, which would have been a major target for bombers.  It would have burned for days giving the Luftwaffe a bright, guiding light in the night sky.  Additionally, she joined the St John's Ambulance and British Red Cross to become fully prepared, as a volunteer, should the need arise.

She took over the newspaper delivery round of the man who was called to the Front, and rain or shine, in all weathers, she went out making sure the houses of the community received their daily papers.  She learned to cook on a budget of rationed food, and I still have some of her handwritten recipes {see, if the photography was working I could have shared them} and continued to make hedgerow wines, such as blackberry, as well as making use of every scrap of vegetable peelings into a variety of palatable drinks. She did 'make do and mend' long before it was fashionable. Nothing went to waste until every last ounce of use was squeezed out, and then some!

Also, during WWII, she, with a group of friends, organised a weekly Friday night dance in the local community hall for the squadrons of Royal Air Force {RAF} personnel stationed locally. She became an active member of the local branch of the {Women's} Royal British Legion and remained so until her death.

After the war, she became housekeeper at the local Deanery.  She lived with her husband {the Cathedral Verger and Caretaker} and my mother, first in the caretaker's house by the cemetery, and later in a cottage close to the Deanery {which came with the job of housekeeper}.  During her time in the Deanery, Their Royal Highnesses Queen Elizabeth II and The Duke of Edinburgh visited. My Grandmother prepared, cooked, and baked the refreshments, and due to short staffing also waited upon the royal party.  The Duke was particularly taken with her skills as a pastry cook, and delighted in her Cheese Straws, asking if he could have more!  She was an active member of the local branch of the Mothers' Union for many years, and was an integral part of a team women who work so hard behind the scenes to present sumptuous teas and buffets to visiting chapter, and other church and community groups on high days and holidays, such as Easter and Whitsun.

I would love to have her back, to share the gardening days growing and tending for plants and flowers in our garden ~~~ she would love the new garden, I am sure, at the new cottage.  I do regret that I did not write down the knowledge she imparted to me.  It wasn't the sort of thing I thought to do as a child, and she was gone before I realised the value of doing so.  Some I remember, much is lost.  For this, I am deeply sad, but keep her near in my heart and memory for the wonderful person she was, and every so often I remember some snippet of wisdom she gave me.  

Gentle Reader ~~~ little has happened in the Garden this week, and the reason for a lazy Sunday is that, once again, I have pulled my back and must rest, taking things easy to allow myself time to heal.  I have managed to keep on picking courgettes ~ which have gone into end of season overdrive ~ the tomatoes, I hope, will start to ripen again {for they have slowed down drastically in the recent bad weather} and I picked my last cutting of salad leave and my first picking of Swiss Chard {very small, but the more you cut, the more new stems are encouraged}.

For now, I will leave you with some images from recent years ~~~ there isn't a flower that my Grandmother didn't love, and many of them are shown here ~~~ let's begin with a beautiful clematis in her favourite colour of purple ~~~ 

These are Rose Bay Willow Herbs, known to me as 'The Lovelies' which was Nanna's favourite nickname for them after seeing bank after bank of them on a train journey one day ~~~

All is safely gathered in ~~~ I love to watch the harvest in progress across the land ~~~

Ferns of any kind were loved by Nanna too ~~~

She would have loved this place, a hidden secret in the walled cloisters of the cathedral ~~~

Few things say Autumn more loudly and clearly than the fruits that are ripe for the picking, such as these giant rosehips ~~~

Another of Nanna's favourites ~~~ the happy, friendly, always gently nodding pansies ~~~

I know she would have loved the clashing hot colours of these lilies and roses as much as I do ~~~

I am not a particular fan of annuals, such as these petunias, but I know Nanna sowed seeds of annuals continually for that splash of colour in a border ~~~

Purple Monkshood {Aconitum} ~~~ her favourite colour and mine!

One of my favourite, shady spots to sit, but I do not think I ever saw Nanna sit down in the garden, other than at three o'clock for a break and a cup of tea, for she was always doing something ~~~

I know she would have adored this dwarf clematis as much as I do ~~~

I know you all are very familiar with my Frances E Lester rambling rose, which brings me much pleasure, and which I bought in Nanna's memory.  She adored roses, especially ramblers, and her first name was Frances ~~~

She always left plants to seed and sow themselves wherever they willed ~~~ and so do I ~~~ with another of her favourites ~ the sweet, shy violet ~~~

Again, like me, she loved many so~called weeds ~~~ such as this beautiful Morning Glory, growing rampant and often cursed in the Garden, but also bringing such beauty with the pristine, white blooms in late Summer and early Autumn ~~~

There I shall leave you, Gentle Reader ~~~ until next time, remember ~~~ 

~~~A Gardener's Work is Never Done~~~

Happy Father's Day Daddy

Gentle Reader~~~just to say Happy Father's Day to all our Daddies whether they be with us or in Heaven, where mine is now.

I cannot say how much I miss my own dear Daddy each passing day, but I know he is with me, looking down upon me, still guiding me as he did for all those year.  One thing is for certain, we are all Princesses in the eyes of our fathers, and remain so even when we have grown up and flown the nest.

My father was a hard working man from a working class background.  He left school to become an apprentice carpenter and joiner, but spent all his spare time in the wilds, for his was one of the most free spirits I have ever known.  He would leave work on a Friday night and sometimes not come home for days, sometimes weeks, for he was living at one with nature, in the forests and hills along the length and breadth of England, Scotland, and Wales.  He would catch fish {mostly} and rabbits, sometimes birds for food, and he would forage the wild fruits and vegetables too.  He knew of such things, they were as natural to him as breathing air, and long before they were fashionable.

He lost more jobs through his 'leaves of abscence' but he was incredibly happy, and he still became a master of his trade despite his broken training.  In time and before he met my mother, he became a game~keeper at the beautiful Powis Castle, then still in private ownership but now in the custodianship of the National Trust.  Later, he returned to carpentry and it was that job that brought him to my home village where he was part of a team that built the extension on to the local Grammar School {where I would later attend as a pupil}.  This was how he met my mother, and the rest is history ~~~ well, he settled in the village and worked as a carpenter across the county.  He learned bricklaying, and soon he was building houses.  In our village there are several houses that he built ~~~ this was all before buying a boat and giving up 'the tools' {as carpentry is called locally} and taking the risk we must all take to live that dream.

He was doing what so many people long to do but never achieve ~~~ he was living his dream.  He put everything on the line, took a huge risk, and went into business running boat trips around Ramsey Island, then in private ownership, now owned by the RSPB {Royal Society for the Protection of Birds}.  In the evenings of the Summer months he organised fishing trips for visitors, and there was always plenty of fish caught to put on our table, as well as sending the fishers back to their caravans and tents with arms full of fresh mackerel.  You cannot eat better than a freshly, line~caught mackerel, pan fried with just a tad of seasoning, served with a slice of bread and {real} butter, and a wedge of lemon.  Perfection on a plate in under an hour!  During the Winter months he would return to 'the tools' for his work was in demand and he always had a waiting list of clients, but his heart longed through each cold Winter for the return of Spring when his beloved boat would be back on the water.

Hunting and gathering to provide for the family ran in his blood, and there was always fresh game, pheasant, rabbit, wood pigeon, wild duck, as well as lobster, crab, salmon, sea bass, mackerel, and more on our table.  I remember being told, as a child, to "chew your food well, and spit out the pellets" just in case a pellet had been overlooked during preparation!  To me, that is a sign of a childhood well lived.  One Winter, he kept the boat on the water and, with a friend, went fishing in the bay when weather permitted.  I remember it was that Winter in Domestic Science {in the Grammar School that brought him to the village} we were studying fish cookery.  All the other girls brought frozen fish, which was all they had available to them, but I brought fresh fish every week for six weeks, and a different one each week too!  My Dom.Sci. teacher, Miss Janet Davies {to whom I owe much, for she added to the breadth of knowledge I had already gained from my Grandmother's teachings in the home kitchen} was astounded, almost speechless for a student to bring fresh hake, gurnard, and cod to class, especially when so scarce.  "But my Daddy is a fisherman and he caught it for me yesterday" was my reply!  Imagine that!

As a child, as soon as the Sea Crest came into our lives, I spent every spare moment on that boat with Daddy and our beloved Skipper {Skippy} our English Springer Spaniel {who was a character in his own right, and a book could be dedicated just to him} Mum wouldn't see us from dawn to dusk, we'd leave the house with our packed sandwiches and drink, and come home hours later utterly ravenous!  Our house then was on a main street and Mum sold tickets from the front door to our passengers and fishers.  In my spare time I would make candles and jewellery and seashell trinkets which I displayed in the front room window.  Passers by would stop and look, and sometimes buy!  I was able to spend Summer after blissful Summer on the boat {while my friends worked in restaurants and shops} and in the evenings I would work to top up the stock of my little window sill shop.  Money can't buy that kind of freedom or give you that kind of deep, heart felt joy.  This photo, of Daddy, me, and Skippy sitting on the cabin of Sea Crest, is one of my most prized possessions, wrinkled and creased, it brings tears of incredible joy and happiness to my eyes ~~~

He built the cottage where I live today.  When, during my divorce, I moved in, he was of tremendous support.  He never questioned or judged, he was simple there, which is all I needed.  He supported my crazy need to return to art college as a mature student, and for that I am eternally grateful, for others were not so supportive, and it was a proud day when I graduated.  I had worked on the boat off and on all my life, but now I took over the day to day running of his office, and spent as much time with him on the boat as I could.  In the evenings, after a long day on the boat, we came home, ate our tea and then if our energy and the daylight allowed, we worked in the garden together.  He would mow or dig, I would weed, and we would both plant and tend with the watering, helping each other out; our the garden was so beautiful back then.  Oh, how things change for in later years, his health took it's toll, and he left us in September 2009, but with such a rich wealth of happy memories to remember him by, it makes me happy to remember those good days, no, not good, but great days of my childhood, and as a grown woman too.

There is so much more I could say, but then we would be sitting here until next Spring!  So I will leave you now with just a few photographs of the light of my life.  I will mention, we are not a family who takes a lot of photographs, which you may find surprising given my love of photography ~~~ but that love came about through Daddy again!  He knew I was interested in photography, and one day, out of the blue, he went into town and came back with a lovely camera for me ~~~ just because ~~~ then, a few years later, on my birthday, imagine my surprise when I opened his present and it was my first digital camera ~~~ that is when my photography really took off, and he was so proud and happy of me ~~~

At my cousin's house ~~~

On Ramsey Island at a friend's wedding, with his friend John ~~ Dad always wanted John's kilt! ~~~

At  Seljalandsfoss Iceland on holiday when I lived there ~~~

In the cabin of his second boat, Treffgarne ~~~

With the two sons of a family friend ~~~

In Iceland wearing his beloved LL Bean boots ~~~

In a local hotel ~~~

Probably looking for his next car ~~~

As we often found him, asleep after a long day's work! ~~~ Daddy could go to sleep anywhere, anytime!

When he died, Mum and I were overwhelmed with tributes.  We had no idea how many lives he had touched, or how much he had helped people without being asked.  We had no idea how many young children he had taken under his wing, encouraged, and helped in their choice of careers either who now came to us as adults and told us of these things.

One person said, "Eric was a true gentleman, but more than that, he was also a gentle man" and I know she was correct.

Our lives were full, of work and happy hearts, and I could not ask for a better Daddy in all the world.  Remembering and Honouring you today, my Darling Daddy, with all my love xoxo