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

Silken Threads and Crystals

Gentle Reader~~~as the true start of Summer approaches, the days are noticeably warmer and gentle breezes blow, with short, sharp and unexpected showers of thundery rain~~each morning the garden greets me in a glistening garment of silken threads sprinkled with sparkling crystals.  Sometime during the night, spiders spun their magic weaving across the bushes and trees and finest strands of silk float out across the garden.  The dew, like fairies tears, glistens and glimmers~~but wait a while and all disappears as the rising sun warms the grateful earth and all is as if they were never there, now trapped in the memory of my mind, like a ghost of a whisper at dawn~~~

I have only one allium left in the garden now, so it stands, a solitary sentinel of the ranks that once looked so proud and upright amidst the frothy acid green Alchemilla Mollis.  I do so like to photograph it in macro, filling the frame with it's spiky silvery~purpleness as each new day brings more of it's crown of stars to fulfilment.  I just love the green and purple combination~~~

The courgettes {zucchini} are growing from strength to strength each day now and there are ten small plants today ~~~

 

Golden rosebuds burst open, gently kissed by the morning dew ~~~

 

And strange creatures invade the garden too!  This is a Hummingbird Hawk moth Caterpillar ~~~ a scary looking creature and quite the ugly bug, but weirdly beautiful in it's uniqueness too, helping warn off hungry birds ready for a juicy snack ~~~

 

A warty toad ~~~ but I am worried that I haven't seen that many in the garden at all this year ~~~

 

The current bane of my gardening life!  The beautiful, yet so destructive, Mullein Moth Caterpillar~~~such pretty markings, but will demolish my Verbascum {Mullein} overnight!  They are voracious giants too, reaching about four inches long with appetites to match ~~~

 

Oedemera nobilis, also known as the False Oil Beetle, Thick-Legged Flower Beetle on a wild white Morning Glory~~~

 

A well camouflaged moth hides on the stone wall of the cottage~~hoping to remain unseen~~~

 

 

While a big Great Tit watches, waiting to swoop for a feed!

Here are some small and very pretty flowers.  I must find out what they are, for they are very sweet and delicate.  The seed freely in amongst the stones and borders in yellow, pale and deep blue, with miniature sword~like leaves~~~

 

This is quaking grass~~~a prolific self~sower that is now everywhere in my garden!  The original was given to me by my Aunty Non who passed away a few years ago~~~but her gardening legacy grows on in the gardens of many across the village and The Shire~~~

 

Finally, a well earned reward~~~some lovely chocolates, handmade in Wales by Sarah Bunton chocolates ~~~ I especially like the Green Tea in the dainty chocolate teacup!  How novel is that?

On that delicious morsel, I shall leave you for tonight, safe in the knowledge that ~~~ 

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

Dacu Fach and Nanna

Gentle Reader~~I thought I might introduce you to the two main influences in my gardening life.  Due to much moving around and a large family picking over the family photographs {long before I was born} I do not have many photographs of my forebears, so those I do have are most precious to me.

First, I will show you my Great Grandfather {Dacu Fach} known locally as Harris Fach {Little Harries} whom I did not know, but have learnt much about.  This is the only photograph I have of him at his work.  He was a professional, apprentice~time served gardener in the late Victorian and early twentieth century.  He originally lived in the south of the Shire but moved to the north of the Shire as there were many estates needing gardeners, which allowed him to move up the ranks, so to speak.  He was a gardener at Warpool Court estate in the late Victorian era, and appears on the 1901 Census as 'living in the Gardener's Cottage' in the grounds.  Many of his eight children appear on that same Census, including one of his three daughters, my Grandmother {Nanna}, who was probably the single most important influence in my love of gardening.  He became the groundskeeper at the Cathedral, and in his later years he was the gardener at The Grove Hotel, and it is here we see him, up a ladder in the glass house, most probably pruning the grape vines and training his two young apprentices.

Now, I move to his daughter, Frances, my Nanna.  She is pictured here, aged about nineteen, with her very much younger brother Jim {Uncle Jim} who is in his uniform ready to go and serve for King and Country in the trenches of France during The Great War {WWI}  He was a very naughty boy, for he had lied about his age, as so many did back then, so that he could receive the Kings Shilling and sign up to go to war.  I think he is about fifteen in this picture, the dates all tie in and this photograph is one hundred years old this year as we remember the outbreak of WWI.  He doesn't look very old at all, neither does Nanna. I love her outfit.  I wonder what colour it is? She favoured purple greatly.  Thankfully, he returned home safe and sound.  I wonder what she would think, being the subject of a blog in the twenty first century?

Anyway, we lived with Nanna when I was growing up, until her death in 1977 at the age of 80 years.  During most of this time, she encouraged me in the ways of gardening, both indoors and outdoors; the garden was big, long and narrow, and although we did not grow many vegetables at that time, we had fruit trees and bushes, beautiful flowers, and we kept some hens.  The grass was long, for back in those days we did not have a mower, but used a hand operated shears to clip the grass on the main, small lawn area underneath the apple trees.  We had a long washing line that ran for most of the length of the long, narrow garden and I loved to watch her peg out the laundry on wash day {Monday} with wooden pegs, then later watch it sailing in the breeze to dry and bleach in the sun.  I would run in and out of the big, white sheets as they flapped about playing some silly game of hide and seek with myself. I have a not~so~secret passion over laundry drying on lines in the fresh air and I do not like tumble dried clothes one jot!  I also adore ironing.

Nanna loved flowers, more than anything I think.  What she couldn't do with a cutting or snippet of a leaf could be put down on the back of a postage stamp.  One of her favourite poems is in the sidebar of my blog, and her favourite lines were "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" which she taught to me at a very early age.

We would go off, just the two of us, for long walks into the rambling countryside lanes, travelling the highways and byways, but always home in time for tea.  She taught me the names of all the wild flowers and grasses, and so much more as we traipsed along, Grandmother and Granddaughter, hand in hand, best of friends.  They say I look a lot like her, but I don't know.  Mum says she and Dacu Fach would be proud of me for what I do, how I try to give things a go, even though I don't think I'm doing very good at being a gardener.  Well, I hope they won't be too cross with me for all the mistakes I'm making, and the mess I am making too.  I also hope my own dear Daddy is with them and he isn't mad either at all the weeds in his lovely lawn.  There's only so much I can do without help, you know.

It was so easy in the days when Daddy would mow, dig, and do the heavy work and I would do the planting and weeding.  We made a great team.  Since he has been gone, it is not easy doing it all, but I am doing what I can {with my back and arthritis for added hindrance!} with the hours I can spare.  The bigger plan is to make it all manageable~~a place to sit and ponder, a place for wildlife, and a place I can be happy and proud of too.  Remember ~~~

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

The Weather is Changeable

Gentle Reader ~~~ the weather is very changeable.  Another year brings the same question: "What has happened to Spring?" for here we are in early June and yesterday I kept the heating on for most of the day!

~~~They say it is the wettest Spring on record {with more rain to follow} but we haven't had that much rain here, or so it seems. 
~~~They say it is the third warmest Spring since records began {I love that "since records began" ~~~ I often wonder when did 'records begin' ~~~ it makes me smile} but where?  Certainly not here, for I am still wearing winter layers and the heating is on every evening. 

Well, there isn't much we can do about it, but it gives us something to talk about ~~~ as if we need encouraging?

Last night, a band of thunderstorms swept up from the south across most of Britain.  We were in the earlier barrage, so by morning the worst of it was gone and I awoke to sparkling clean windows ~~~ one more job off the list then ~~~ for nature sometimes has a way of helping with the housework.  The day was grey, then it brightened up a tad, greyed over again and played with us, teasing us with sunshine from time to time, but now the sun is definitely here to play.  The garden is glorious, freshly washed from the rain, all bright and beautiful in the brilliant sunshine, dancing gaily in the slightly too stiff a breeze which is cooling things down maybe a little too much for such bright sunshine.  Long sleeves still needed, too cold for shorts.  Not that I wear shorts, but if I did it would not be warm enough today.

I never fail to be amazed at how quickly weed seeds grow, certainly the appear to sprout out of nowhere overnight into nearly full grown plants, and so much more quickly than things I want to be growing ~~ like my vegetables!  Why, it is less than two weeks since I cleared a patch for my courgettes {when they are ready for transplanting} and about the same time I sowed my courgette seeds, on May 26th.  So, here is the patch {which I covered with a scrap of netting to stop cats scratching around in it} and look how green it is already ~~~

These are the Franchi Seeds of Italy courgette/zucchini 'Romanesco' that I particularly like for their deeply ridged skins and buttery yellow flesh that, to me, is quite superior in taste ~~~

Courgette seeds have a pointy end and a rounded end, they say to sow with the pointy end up and the rounded end down for better germination, so this is how I sowed two seeds to each pot {later, the weaker of the two will be pricked out} hoping for 6 plants in all ~~~

As many of you know by now, I love to recycle, re~purpose, and re~use and this is re~purposing of those horrible filmy bags used in so many supermarkets these days, tied on tightly to make a free propagation unit, with a ready meal plastic tray as a saucer ~~~

 Then, today ~~~ Yay! the first tiny seed has pushed through the soil into the world! 

On now to some pretties for you to feast your eyes upon ~~~

I love my Verbascum, also called Mullein, and this is my dwarf verbascum that comes back every year.  I hope one day to be able to divide it, for it is a favourite of mine ~~~

A pink osteospermum with yellow and teal coloured centre ~~~

A gorgeous, tight rosebud ~~~

that opened into this beauty ~~~

The Oriental lilies are slowly opening to reveal their bright orange vibrancy ~~~

Oh, and one of my favourites, the rambler Frances E Lester, starting to open ~~~ I gave it a very hard pruning earlier and thought there would not be many blooms, but, oh! my! there are hundreds of clusters this year, I cannot count them, and there are thousands upon thousands of blooms like this to open!  I wait, with eager anticipation to see them later in the Summer ~~~

Rosa Rugosa, another fragrant favourite ~~~

 Laburnum, golden and dancing, overhangs from a neighbour's garden, I get the benefit for free! ~~~

and finally, a real hairy beast!  Would you just look at this poppy bud? ~~~

 So, Gentle Reader, my words are done, my images today are shared ~~~ more will follow soon, for remember that ~~~

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

~~~We Will Remember~~~

Gentle Reader~~~Seventy years ago today, men, women, and children were waking up across the Shires of Britain with an inkling that something important was happening, but only a few knew with certainty.  Seventy years ago today, to the hour that I am writing this, the serving men of those Shires were landing on the beaches of Normandy, along with members of the Allied Forces, in one of the bloodiest battles of WWII, being mercilessly wiped out in their thousands, yet still fighting forward in what became a pivotal point of that war.  Today, commemorations of that day are happening on both sides of the English Channel.

I am sitting here with tears streaming involuntary down my face out of immense respect and a debt of gratitude to those who gave their lives that day so that you and I can sit in freedom in our own gardens across the Shires.  It is a moving and thought provoking experience watching all the events on television today, reflecting on events, those who perished on that day, seventy years ago, the lives of their families changed forever yet, in their sacrifice, they remain unchanged in the love and memories of those they left behind. 

Unlike so many, I did not have any known close relative present in the Normandy Invasion, for my Grandfathers were both too old to fight for their country in WWII and my father was not old enough. Thereby, a difference may be made to the world in that I might not be here today at all. 

I do not recall studying either of the two World Wars in school; as I remember it we stopped somewhere around the end of Victorian times and the Industrial Revolution, so anything I know is what I have picked up myself along the way, but I wish I knew more, if for no other reason than it is a way to honour those who fought and died to give us the lives we have today.  It is, however, very gratifying, to see so many young people very much aware of the roles of family members in the war.  May the memories of those who gave their lives so bravely live on as they pass the word down to their children's children.

My mother recalls the day.  She was just sixteen and a guest at a wedding happening in the village that day.  She remembers being woken up by my Grandmother {who was a member of the WRVS during WWII} and listening on the radio as the news of the Invasion broke.  Later, they attended the wedding.  What a strange and surreal day that must have been, celebrating the beginning of two lives shared while a battle, the outcome of which would affect everyone, was being fought in France.  She tells me that she is thankful in her heart that there was no television to see the horrors as they happened, it was bad enough listening to it on the radio.

I am glad that there are so many different aspects being addressed today, with remembrance of the work that needed to be done before the Invasion: the weakening of the Luftwaffe; the clearing of mines from the English Channel; the women who worked in the munitions factories; the nurses who cared for those injured and dying; the roles of women and the many ways that contributed to eventual victory.  This list goes on.  I am learning much.

One Veteran said, "those who remain are the veterans, those who died are the heroes" ~~~ in my eyes they are all heroes of the finest calibre.

Another Veteran referred to a quote {attributed to Emiliano Zapata}, "It is better to die standing than to live on your knees"  As the Veteran said, "they died standing so we did not have to live on our knees".

It is awe~inspiring to see the Veterans, and listen to all the interviews, their memories, their recollections, their perspectives.

Perhaps one of the less well known facts revealed today is that all of the headstones that mark the graves of the fallen in the cemeteries in and around the area are all identical, regardless of rank, creed, or social standing, all are equal in their sacrifice {as it rightly should be}  One of the most poignant sights is a double marker, a rare thing in a sea of single, white markers.  It was explained that this particular grave contains the remains of five Australian airmen, whose plane crashed and all on board were killed.  Although all are known, they could not be individually identified, and so were buried together with the unique double headstone.  They flew and died together, and now they lie in eternal rest together.

Today, I offer my heartfelt gratitude for the many who died for our freedom, who died for you and me ~~~

~~~We Will Remember Them~~~

Just Sayin'

Gentle Reader~~from a cold and windy west Wales this morning, where white clouds scud across a blue sky, and grey clouds with threats of impending downpours roll in from the Atlantic.  My coffee is hot and strong and I am slowly waking up!

I am considering a few changes to this blog. I might even modify the title.  Don't be alarmed!  You see, over on Facebook land, I write passages of prose quite frequently and those of you who are not over there cannot read what I am writing.  My FB friends and followers all seem to like what I do, and I would like to share it with you.  I also enjoy sharing recipes ~for I am a self confessed foodie~ although my recipes are of the hit and miss ilk that go 'a handful of this, a pinch of that' it is still fun; I also enjoy crafting and sharing some of my simple makes.  I started out here with the good intentions of a gardening blog, but find myself wandering, wondering, and pondering too, further away from wanting to blog about just gardening.

Some of you visit my other two blogs linked here, my primary blog Tales From A Celtic Heart and my fun teddy blog  The Adventures of Treasure Bear and Other Animals both of which are now equally neglected from my blogland identity crisis!

I've had a few technical problems, and I know some of you have had the same, issues like not being able to put up your photographs, which I must admit has stopped me from posting.  My computer is also slow, sometimes quick, sometimes slow, sometimes nothing at all as it freezes more solid than an Arctic Winter!

I tried setting up a new blog, consolidating all three blogs on to one new page but Wordpress is hard work for my computer and I have decided to stay put.  Goodness only knows the changes in the last few months that Google has made have left me spinning more than the tin top I played with as a child~~~and that did some spinning!

So, I think it is time to just go with the flow, blog what I want to blog and not try to be so purist, when being purist means all I get to do sometime is re~hash the same things as last year.   There will still be a lot of gardening, and way too many pictures {but I do so love photography} but more variety, and I hope more regular posting and everything will always be a work in progress!

There you have it!  I dashed out this morning to get a couple of shots of things before the rain comes in, a lovely white foxglove {which is confusing me, but more on that next time} and the return of my lovely dwarf verbascum! 

I hope you will stay with me as I make these changes, and who knows, maybe a few more will join us in the Garden in The Shire?

Until next time ~~~

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