Small things


Sometimes it’s the little things that make my day. Like the passionflower which I bought from Morrison’s for £3 flourishing on the side of the woodshed. I thought it would die during the winter, so buffeted did it get on our exposed hillside.

Like our wasps’ nest. They’re squatting in the bird box on the side of the garage. The hole you can see in this rather fuzzy picture (I was holding the phone above my head with rather shaky hands – see previous post) is where I poked the crepe bandage-like structure inside with the end of the shears because I was wondering what it was. I’d never seen one before.

I soon knew. They all came flying out to have a look at what was attacking them but they didn’t seem very aggressive. I left them to calm down and go back inside, which they did quite quickly. When I went back later to check, the hole I made seemed to have been mended or to have mended itself. I will have to do some research into wasps’ nests now to find out how.


Like my ‘exciting’ 15 minutes in the garden one night. While I was standing there waiting for the motion-activated outside light to go off so that I could well and truly lurk in the dusk, an owl turned up and sat on the telegraph wires. I could only see its outline but it was obviously an owl with its massive round head and silent, swooping flight. It’s my first owl sighting, although I hear them quite a lot from the woods nearby. From the calls I’d say it was a tawny.

rainbow over country scenery

And like the rainbow that was so complete and huge that I couldn’t fit both ends of it into the picture. There was a rainbow on the day I moved into the cottage and I’ve always thought of them as a good omen, although they usually signify an impending shower.

Hard labour

shears resting on a half-cut hedge

I’ve just taken an anti-inflammatory pain killer. This is not how a post about gardening should start but after two days’ hard graft outdoors, it’s much needed. With carpal tunnel syndrome, my fingers get painful, numb, tingly and I lose a lot of my normal dexterity when I do any exercise. After rowing regularly in the gym during the last few weeks the fingers on my right hand have been particularly bad, although some exercises I was prescribed by the hospital do help reduce the symptoms. Doing some heavy gardening hasn’t helped much. However, I don’t see what the alternative is other than spending most of the time being inactive or learning to use my feet more creatively, and that’s not going to happen.

The irony is that I thought a lot of the trouble I had with my hands was due to the amount of keyboard work I used to do. But it’s now almost a year since I left work and the hands are infinitely worse than when I was desk-bound. The head’s a lot happier though, and that’s what counts.

So the hedge needed trimming again. If you’re a regular reader, you might think: “but hang on, she just wrote about this…” and you’d be right but I hadn’t finished the job I started a couple of weeks ago. The cottage has both a front and a back garden (at the sides of the house along the lane). The picture in the right-hand column over there shows what I mean, although it’s only of the higher or front part of the hedge.

This is the one that needed attention, so I did the laneside section as soon as I arrived as the weather was showery. Not a good idea. The battery-operated trimmer, while very sturdy, decided it felt damp and needed a full 24 hours to dry out before it would work again. So, conscious of the lack of time to do the job (I’m never here long enough at a stretch to take my time), I moved on to the shears, which needed to be strongarmed by the pliers before they would cut properly. It was definitely one of those days.

hedge cuttings on the ground

piles of hedge cuttings

The next day, feeling quite achy and stiff, I attacked the hazel hedge in the lower garden which separates it from the field behind. It’s easy to cut and the powered trimmer was working again, so it wasn’t too bad. I’m always sorry to cut hazel at this time of year as the nuts get nixed, but I can’t always do it at the right time because either I’m not here or the weather isn’t right, so I do it when I can.

Of course, I never stop when I should and I ended up also clearing the rather overgrown beds as well. There’s so much more I could do. If only I had the time. Oddly, that’s what I used to say when I worked…

All the hard labour seems worth it though when I gather up vase after vase of lovely flowers. There’s nothing like it!



the author

a cottage back garden

black labrador chewing a bone

midsummer sunset

Midsummer? It feels like the year has only just started and yet here we are already. But it was glorious and reminded me why I love this place. Long, light hours of warmth. No wind (a rarity). Supper outside, with Nora by my side gnawing on her bone. Bats silently swooping up and down the lane as the daylight dwindled into a rouge-y sunset, the darkness finally claiming the light around 10.45.

The garden had exploded since the last time I’d seen it, so I’ve had a lot of catching up to do. Last year’s left-over, autumn-sown Higgledy Garden seeds had grown huge while I was away, so I picked as many flowers as were ready, to give the few remaining as much time as possible to develop.

I sowed most of the Higgledy seeds last Spring but scattered some remaining hardy annuals in the Autumn, with the more tender lot going into the ground in the late Spring this year as a bit of an afterthought. They are the tiny ones in the top of the flower pictures below. Rather a long way to go yet.

small raised bed with flowers

Nigella and California poppies in a blue vase

A week later when I’m writing this and the flowers are mostly still going strong. Only the old roses have died. They never last long but to make up for that they smell fantastic.

box of garden flowers

In case this is sounding just a little too lovely, I should add that I also spent hours strimming, and cutting the hedge and sweeping up the bits. This was a lot easier after the big cut Jay did in March but still really hard work with my gammy wrists.

trimming a long hedge

Nora helped with some of the pruning though.

dog chewing a rose

We walked on a very quiet Cothelstone Hill courtesy of the World Cup and Nora kept relatively still while I played with taking a panoramic shot, so we didn’t end up with a ‘dogarpillar’ walking across the view, which I’ve seen online a few times.

Cothelstone Hill panorama

And finally, carelessly picking up the wrong set of keys, I locked myself out and had to go down to the farm and ask for help. Kind Sally, whom I hadn’t met before, came back with me to hold the borrowed ladder while I climbed in through an open upstairs window. If you’re going to get locked out, living up the road from a farm is the best place to be because there’s always someone around. “I thought you must be from Spring Cottage,” she said when she saw me. Probably made a laughing stock of myself now, haven’t I?

signP1010650 P1010652 P1010655

While a great many multi-national corporations operate in Canada, on my trips to Vancouver to see my family, I’ve been noticing that a lot of fairly individual styles of shopfront and associated typography co-exist with the more modern global brands. It feels quite ‘small towny’, which makes it all the more charming, although I don’t imagine those I know over there will be delighted with me for saying so. No-one wants their lovely city described as that, but it is meant as a compliment.

I have a feeling that most of this atmosphere will be swept away by the rapid redevelopment that is taking place across the city. Sometimes, as in Yaletown, this has made huge modern residential areas out of what used to be mostly derelict land. Elsewhere, parts of the University of British Columbia campus are being developed for a mixture of student and other housing. Older single-storey shops are often dwarfed by the high-rise apartment buildings that grow up behind them. It feels like low-rise construction all over the city, from downtown to the residentials suburbs, will be gone in a few years to be replaced by something less individual. I hope this isn’t universal, as that would be a great loss to the city’s character, which is largely still one of small stores owned by individuals.

In one of the most down-at-heel areas of Vancouver – on the east side – there are still some really old and characterful signs advertising hotels that might be better described as ‘flop-houses’. Like most cities, Vancouver has its darker side and this is part of it. The streets are filled with down-and-outs, drug users and homeless people, and feels like it has been forgotten in a time-warp. A lot of lovely advertising signage from the 1950s remains here and some of it is really imaginative, even if rather dilapidated.







Footnote: I called this post ‘Vancouver Old-Style’ because it’s the only city in Canada that I have visited a lot, so I don’t know whether the typographic phenomenon I’m observing is common to the whole country or just to British Columbia. I did once spend a month in both Montreal and Victoria on Vancouver Island, but it was a very long time ago before multinational companies, beyond maybe Kodak and Martini, were as ubiquitous as they are now.


trellis seen through screen of flowers

bee feeding on flowers

wedding bouquet of peonies

wedding dress train

hand with engagement ring holding bouquet

Flower girl wearing garland at wedding

Vancouver west side street scene


dilapidated building and lichen-covered tree

So we packed our bags, took Nora to her home boarding place in Sussex and headed off from Heathrow on a rainy and chilly Tuesday afternoon. Arriving in Vancouver for a family wedding (the third in two years), it was easy to relax in the warmth and sunshine. We were lucky with the weather all week, apart from one day. I’m writing this back in cool English temperatures and am about to change out of my sandals into some warmer shoes. Home sweet home.

Our time away was a mixture of emotion, enjoyment and exploration. We watched a young couple marry amid a throng of family and friends, bicycled along rivers and up and down hills, went in a motor boat on a fjord – yes, an actual fjord – learned to love Orange Is The New Black, explored the seamier – and typographically more interesting – side of the city (a neat line in 1950s lettering styles, some of which are still practised today, about which more in another post), went to hear some blues at a casino, walked a lot, and ate a lot – a lot – of delicious food.

And we went to yoga but still have cricks in our necks. Om.


The scent of elderflowers has been overwhelming this spring – perhaps more so because of the profusion of blossoms after the wet winter. Slightly cloying but unmistakeable, the nose perceives the presence of an elder in bloom long before the eye. They remind me slightly of tree-bound cauliflowers which makes me smile. Even in the rain there is something to enjoy about them when the tiny off-white flowers fall to the ground like so much mouse confetti.

I went foraging in a local park for my supply, given that I wasn’t in the countryside. I suppose if we all did this the bushes would be bare but it only takes 20 flower heads (about half the contents of a regular supermarket carrier bag) to make four litres of elderflower cordial. I chose mine carefully so that I only took a couple of flower heads from each bush, making sure that they were far enough off the ground not to have been targeted by any dogs.

I used this recipe from the BBC Good Food magazine but it doesn’t matter which you choose, as it’s a pretty straightforward business. You just have to melt some sugar into some water by gentle boiling, making a syrup in which you then steep the flower heads and lemons for 24 hours. No cooking involved really, just a bit of heating up.

One thing I did think, is that if people were forced to make a concentrated drink like this at school, they might think twice about how much squash and juice or fizzy drinks they consume in later life. I was pretty horrified to need two-and-a-half kilos of sugar, which practically filled the large saucepan I had at the ready. Of course, this is a concentrate so you only use a tiny amount for each glass but it still makes you think.

IMG_4231 IMG_4234 IMG_4239

Elderflower cordial is quite delicious and made this way, you can either freeze it or keep it in the fridge for six weeks – a reminder of spring that will last almost until the nights start drawing in again.

As my activities repeat themselves year after year, my posts here have become more sporadic and maybe focus more on things that are a little more out of the ordinary for me (yes, my life is that dull). I sometimes forget that I’m quite happy to read about other people’s day-to-day lives on their blogs.

Even if I’m feeling less inspired to write these days, the blog still has a use as a diary and I find it interesting to look back at a similar date in previous years. I feel quite pleased with the pictures I took a year ago today; obviously didn’t take those with my phone!


I may not be as as motivated to write about an ordinary weekend like this one, where all I’ve done is walk the dog nearby and mow the grass but it’s still nice to record things. I’ve kept a diary, one way or another, since I was a teenager.


So today I found myself looking back over the five years since I came to Spring Cottage. During that time I’ve gone from waffling to myself about preparations for moving in to opening up the blog and wittering on to those who follow me and the odd other person or two who finds themselves here when they were looking for curtain material.

In the first couple of years, there were big changes involving redecorating and moving in. Then I focused more on the garden, and it’s with reference to the plants that I can see how the weather has differed from one year to another. Last year at this time in May the peonies were only just in bud. Today, they are all in full bloom and about half of them have been battered to death by yesterday’s heavy rain. I rescued the others and brought them inside. They are so splendidly fragile.

peonies in a vase

Even though things seem to repeat themselves, there are always differences. This year, perhaps due to the amount of rain over the winter, the bluebells seem to be more abundant than ever before. Although I used to ride up there quite often, I had never noticed them on Cothelstone Hill but maybe, without a Nora to exercise, I had just missed them. This morning, they were out in every direction, along with campions and buttercups. And I never tire of that view. Spring Cottage is a little dot on the brow of a hill in the distance and I love it even more for that.

View from Cothelstone Hill

Cothelstone Hill

As always with the past, the weather seems to have been better. Let’s hope tomorrow’s a bit warmer and sunnier as well.



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