Spring Pruning

Late Springtime Shrubbery

Our still very wintry garden has been pruned to within an inch of its life. Actually, that isn't strictly true, and the wonderful local gardener who has done the work has made a fine job of it. But it won't really look right till the leaves start to come through - by which time everything will grow at such a rate that you won't be able to see exactly where the cutting has taken place.

We have a lot of mature shrubs and trees in our cottage garden, and there comes a time, every few years, when you really have to chop most things back a bit, otherwise no light gets in, leaves choke everything and nothing does very well.

At the same time, we're always very aware of the small birds at this time of the year, and their need for shelter, so when we arranged for the pruning, we left lots and lots of cover lower down, as well as feeding them with a good mixture of small seeds and other things in what I see Dobbie's Garden Centre is calling a 'Bird Abode' presumably a more up-market version of a Bird House.

All this, though, has lead me to reflect on the difference between men and women in their attitude to pruning. On the whole, men love to hack and chop while women like to snip about a bit, and generally conserve. The sight of somebody chopping down a tree, even if it is clearly diseased and dangerous, is always a bit painful to me. The only rows my husband I have ever had have been to do with pruning - and I have vivid memories of my lovely late mum and dad, always the most loving of couples, engaged in fairly furious rows about the way he had chopped down some of her cherished plants. In fact, I seem to remember mum chasing dad down the garden with a pair of shears. Men so often seek to control, where women are happy to allow a bit of chaos.

Which explains why my dear husband made me give specific instructions as to what I did and didn't want chopped down. With a bit of luck, all will be well by spring - everything has been carefully and beautifully done and nothing has been hacked at or vandalised. But it does look a bit sad out there.
All the same, there's more light in the garden while still leaving plenty of shelter for all the wildlife that comes to visit. Roll on spring.

Decking the Halls - Christmas Preparations

One of our Christmas cards for this year.

I've been in the garden today, cutting holly and ivy and fir branches so that I can 'deck the halls' - which in my case means putting big vases and earthenware jugs of greenery through the house. A cheeky robin followed me everywhere, just in case I disturbed anything he might want to eat.

We've set up a feeding station for small birds this year, with feeders especially designed for the little ones, and we've had lots and lots of customers. In fact now, we can hardly keep up to them and I'm going to have to go in search of more wild bird seed tomorrow!

We also got down the boxes of decorations from the loft  (what my dear husband calls 'the Christmas tat') and he has already made a good job of trimming the tree, which was delivered from a small local nursery on Friday morning - not sure what kind of tree it is - it's quite tall, about 6ft, and compact, with thick, upwards turning branches, like a partly furled umbrella and I think it may be a Fraser fir - whatever it is, it's very nice indeed and it didn't cost a fortune, even delivered.

The presents are almost all acquired - many from eBay, some from Amazon, some of them home made. There will be a wrapping marathon this week. I'm still writing Christmas cards, which we had made from my husband's artworks. I have more trimming up to do, a bit more shopping, but nothing too big or expensive, and some home baking to do as well. We don't have a terribly commercial Christmas here, but we seem to enjoy it all the more for that reason. Tonight, the Round Table organisation will be bringing Santa round on his sleigh, (pulled by a tractor of course - this is a farming area) and next week, a group of us will be carol singing round the doors, for charity. I love this gap in the year when there seems to be time to draw breath and focus on other things: not just friends and family, but my own writing. It's often a time when I sit and think, draft things out, play around with words, get ideas. By the time the New Year holiday is over (which goes on for quite a long time, in Scotland) I'm usually champing at the bit and ready to get on with things - but now, I'm looking forward to the warmth and candlelight and the scents of cinammon and cloves, and the sound of Christmas carols. Talking of which - I like to read A Christmas Carol every Christmas - this year, I've already downloaded it to my Kindle!

Intriguing Gifts and Stocking Fillers from The Scottish Home

It's a busy time of year for The Scottish Home - the few weeks before Christmas always gallop along and as anyone who runs a small online business knows, almost everyone decides to buy vintage gifts and stocking fillers at the last minute, and it's a struggle to keep up with listing and posting, especially when you live deep in the countryside as we do. Although I do remember selling a handful of items back in October, to buyers who told me they were already Christmas shopping!

Because I collect textiles and textile related things as well as selling them and because they sometimes figure in my fiction, I generally have a few shelves full of  pieces I haven't been able to bring myself to sell, all stored up in tissue paper and lavender. At this time of the year I'll dig them out, gloat over them a bit, and decide whether to keep, sell - or give as a gift. Many of my gifts this year will come from that cupboard - there are a few items I've been hoarding with friends in mind.

A few things, like a very beautiful Cantonese embroidered shawl which I bought for a song, earlier this year, will probably be kept and may even be worn, over the holiday period. The Georgian hand embroidered christening cape will have to stay where it is, since it figures in a new novel called The Physic Garden, which I'm planning to finish some time during 2012 and I may want to use it as a cover image. But some pieces are definitely scheduled for rehoming. This beautiful length of lace - strictly speaking it's embroidered net of some kind - possibly Limerick Lace although I'm not certain  - has been kept for years and I think the time has come for it to find a new home. It's quite badly damaged, with lots of holes in the net, but as you can see from the pictures, the actual floral motifs are wonderful - one for a lace collector, perhaps.

Last week, I bought a small box of antique table linen at auction which - considering that the work is so beautiful - had been dreadfully treated, crumpled, dusty, dirty, smelly and full of hideous brown stains. They look like old - very old! - tea and coffee stains. Some of it is already washed and ironed and waiting to be sold but the two best pieces were the most marked, and they are currently soaking gently. The last time I looked, the marks seemed to be fading. Fingers crossed I can restore them to their former glory. Linen is very forgiving, but many dealers won't spend the time it takes to get it right. I'll post some pictures on here if all goes according to plan.

A bit of a mystery - is this a picture of nineteenth century Oban?

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This picture has had a somewhat chequered history. I'm about to list it for sale in my online shop, but I'm still curious about it. We bought it some years ago, and it was a grim old oil painting with almost no details visible. It looked as though it had spent many years in a smoky environment and seemed to be pretty much caked with nicotine. (Anyone who has ever had any dealings with old pictures from homes where people smoke would think twice about taking up the habit!) You could see from the reverse side that it was very old - an old stretched canvas on a very old wooden frame

Eventually, we had it professionally cleaned, and saw that it was a very interesting old picture - unsigned and in a naive style. Sadly, then, disaster struck. We were having some work done in a room where the picture was stored and it was damaged. Now, my artist husband has repaired it beautifully, and it's very hard to see the damage, although you can see it from the reverse side.

We think it's Oban, but not Oban as we know it today. For a start. McCaig's tower, on the hill above the town, isn't there. This seems to be a thriving Victorian town, with high hills rising behind, and a busy harbour. You can see plenty of sailing boats, fishing cobles, and what looks like a steam powered herring drifter, with a red chimney. The fishermen would take their catch to these drifters, which could then transfer the fish to the big markets. 



The sailing boats are beautifully realised, very detailed and accurate. The picture has a strange vibrancy, the light in it is wonderful, and although it's by no means an 'old master', it has huge charm. As I say - we think it's probably Oban, although we did wonder about Tarbert, Loch Fyne. If anyone has a definitive answer, I'd be very glad if they would let me know! We'd also love to know when it was painted, and obviously, the clue to that would lie in the buildings that are, or are not, there. We suspect a date of about 1870s but that's just a guess. If you know better, do let me know.

St Mungo - A Mystical Picture

My husband, artist Alan Lees, completed this picture of Glasgow's 'patron saint', Mungo (or Kentigern as he is sometimes called) a few weeks ago. There's something really special about it - but I think it's probably the strangest image he has ever created. Mungo was a (late sixth century) holy man of the early celtic church, who built a church next to the Molendinar Burn - where the magnificent cathedral now stands - calling it his 'dear green place' which is the meaning of the name of the city.
His legend traditionally involves a bird, a tree, a bell and a fish.
Mungo restored life to the pet robin of Saint Serf, which had been killed by some of his fellow classmates, who were hoping to blame him for its death.
When left in charge of a fire in Saint Serf's monastery, he fell asleep and the fire went out. Taking branches from a tree, he restarted the fire.
The bell was said to have been used in services and to mourn the deceased - many holy men at the time had these 'square' bells to call the faithful to prayer.
Queen Languoreth of Strathclyde was suspected of infidelity by her husband. King Riderch who asked to see her ring, which he claimed she had given to her lover. In reality the King had thrown it into the River Clyde himself. She appealed for help to Mungo, who ordered a young man to catch a fish in the river. On opening the fish, the ring was miraculously found inside.
The bell, the bird, the fire - but not the fish - are all in Alan's picture. Presumably, the fish is still in the river! However you look at it, this is a strange and evocative piece of work.

Old Floor Tiles In Winchester Cathedral

This post has little to do with Scotland or homes, but when you're interested in antiques, just occasionally you find yourself completely smitten with love for some object or other. This summer, we found ourselves visiting Winchester Cathedral for the first time - a wonderful experience, especially for somebody like me who used to be a Mediaevalist to trade (I have an honours degree in Mediaeval Studies, from Edinburgh University) and is still to some extent a historian, although most of my interest tends to manifest itself in fiction, these days. The cathedral is - unlike some others - quite plain from the outside, (well, plain for a cathedral!) but the inside is amazing - full of light, air and beauty. But amid all the stone and woodcarving, the things I liked most of all, (well, other than the books, in the library, which were amazing!) were the floor tiles - this cathedral has the largest surviving area of Mediaval tiles in the UK, and there is something about the colours and patterns of these that is so enticing.

Look at the stars in the section above for instance? Why the seemingly haphazard arrangement? Did it have some significance? Or was it simply that some tiles wore away and had to be replaced? You can read about them and much more about this amazing floor, on a fascinating website here.

Apples, Apples and More Apples (And Some Grapes!)

It's that time of year again, and the venerable old apple tree at the bottom of our garden is full of fruit, and also keeping us well supplied with windfalls in the rough weather. Of which we have had far, far too much, this summer, here in the West of Scotland. The apples are, according to Nigel Deacon, who knows about these things, an old variety called Golden Noble, and wonderful for cooking. Naturally sweet, they turn fluffy when cooked and are fabulous in pies and jams and cakes. The longer you keep them, the more they live up to their name and turn a gorgeous pale golden colour: a noble fruit indeed!

We also have a grape vine, with the root outside, and the fruit under glass, which produces lots of sweet black grapes each year, and this year is no exception.

Most of them aren't quite ripe yet, and we could do with a bit more sunshine over the coming week, which we are seemingly going to get, so we'll be donating some to the village shop, as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, I've been doing rather a lot of apple cooking! We have frozen several boxes of blanched apples, and I've made several jars of a low sugar preserve, with apples, plums (from a friend in Oxfordshire) and a few strawberries thrown in for good measure, boiled up with some sugar, but not as much as you would put in jam. This has made a gorgeous pale pink 'butter' which is now stored in the fridge, in jars - it doesn't keep for more than a couple of months, but we'll have finished it by then.

I've made apple pudding, with suet pastry, and apple pie, and I'm planning an Eve's pudding for some mid-week visitors, sponge baked on top of stewed apple, which I always associate with my lovely late mother-in-law who made so many delicious traditional puddings.  But today, I made a scrumptious Apple Potato Cake, following a recipe from an old book called Talking About Cakes With an Irish and Scottish Accent, by Margaret Bates. This is one of those much loved cookery books that I've had for years. There are recipes written in the back from when I was a teenager, and it's quite nostalgic to look at them, all these years later.

According to Margaret Bates, this dish is from Armagh and the recipe is quite vague, but certainly works. One of those marvellous recipes that turns unpromising ingredients into something magical. You take a quantity of cold mashed potato (leftovers are ideal) and mix it with some fine, plain flour and a little melted butter. I used about four rounded tablespoons of flour to about a quarter kilo or half a pound of mashed potato. There are no hard and fast measurements, but it should be a soft, pliable dough, like a soft pastry. Divide it in two, and roll each piece into a circle. Finely chop some cooking apple - enough to make a good thick layer - spread it on one circle, top with the other and pinch the edges together, so that it makes a big 'cake'. Cook this very slowly on an old fashioned 'girdle' - but a good, heavy non-stick pan will do the same job - oiled with a little butter. Turn it over half way through the cooking - easiest to do this by sliding it onto a plate and then flipping it back onto your pan. It takes about 15 - 20 minutes. When you think it is almost cooked, and the apple is beginning to bubble, lift the lid a little, sprinkle with brown sugar and dot with a little butter, lower the lid and leave for a few more moments. Serve very hot. If you add the sugar too soon, it will spill over your pan and caramelise.

Eat it immediately. Then make another. So many apples, at this time of the year, that it's justified!