A Bit of a Pickle

Let the magic begin

The weather has us on a go slow in the Holly Cottage camp. Two weeks ago we were breaking our backs getting the good earth ready for planting, clearing the shed of two year's cumulative rubbish and basically clearing the decks to prepare for the sowing season. There was even talk of let's build a patio the sun was shining so well. We'll park that one until we see it again - the sun that is. Since then, we've had at least two days blanketed in pure white snow; another three being blown out of it by northeasterly gales and at least five days being pounded with hailstones the size of frozen peas. Hailstones big  enough to hurt when they ricochet off the corner of your forehead as you endeavour overdue walkovers of your summer field experiments ;)

Holly Cottage hot stuff ;)

Better we get it now says them in the know. Better now than mid June, when you might be glad to sand the rust of the BBQ grill and have an extended evening in the midsummer sun. Despite the inhospitable weather though we've been keeping it hot indoors ;) 

Last weekend was for making more pickledy stuff. Chillies were gathered from the plants in Cappaduff and further investigations to continue the evolution of the Holly Cottage pepper sauce species (there's been a few trial  runs - all good, all extremely hot) were conducted;  a Lime pickle started in January  was retrieved from the darkness to test and taste; and some vanilla pods were put to the test in a creme anglaise. We seem to have experimented a lot in the last year and a quick look in the crowded fridge tells a few tales indeed. The beetroot relish was polished off last week. That was a sad day. The sweet tomato chilli jam  from the start of October never really had enough time to call this place home - it was better than any sweet chilli sauce and streets ahead of anything I've tasted since. The green tomato chutney is still with us - only because we had so many unripened tomatoes in the autumn - the casualty of that cold and wet summer. A few other trials the last few months involved reduced balsamic vinegar flavoured with orange, more tomato relish - this time approaching the Ballymaloe style, and of course the sweet mint sauce that seems to have gotten tastier since its birth last November. 

Let's jam!

And then there's just the plain old jam. Such a small word, that belies sweet comforting and tastebud sensational sticky goodness that brightens up any corner of dry bread on an otherwise ordinary morning in March. I know I've raved about the strawberry bounty last year, and I will until I die! We have just one pot of strawberry-raspberry-rhubarb jam left and that will have to get us to June. Eek ;) Jam has to be the simplest thing in the whole world to make and yet we seem to rely on those dreadful, ultra processed versions that parade around on supermarket shelves as very poor imitiations of the real thing. They don't even have bits of fruit in most of them so it could actually be just flavoured jelly coloured to deceive us of an impostor! OK, I'm being somewhat over-dramatic. But ever since I made my first batch of blackcurrant jam back in the 90s - and somehow won a medal for it at the local harvest fair - I've been a homemade jam champion. A pound of fruit, a pound of sugar - take it to the magical setting point over bubbling heat and you're done. We tend to mix it up around here - whatever's going at the time. The rhubarb and strawberry mix was the biggest hit though. Do it ;)

Now that's a lime pickle...

And so, a bit of pickling and plenty of lounging indoors is keeping us busy these weekends. Some work to be done today though and a nephew's birthday cake to be shared this evening in Cappaduff. We're missing a Mornington extraordinaire birthday lunch for work today, so that's not good. But I know that they'll be having a feast sensation if Anne O'Hara has anything to do with it! 

I hope wherever you are that you are relishing in the drama of the March winds and looking forward to the sunshine of April to come. Happy birthday celebrations to all in Mornington and Cappaduff - let those birthdays just keep on coming!

The Good Earth

It's back to the beginning for us in the garden, back to basics. And how better to get there than a fine March spring day with my two favourite gardeners ;) Well, granted Holly does just lie back in her various yoga poses while we battle with the tools of the trade...it's a dog's life indeed..

July 2011 - still a work in progress ;)

There's something deeply primitive and intensely satisfying about digging the Holly Cottage garden soil. I guess it's because, for us, it's been just two years since we first turned the sod on the otherwise rock hard and tree-root ridden earth that pre-dated our arrival. It's hard to believe it, but when I look back on the photos, I think wow - we did that. We transformed a blank canvas to a 3D kaleidoscope of  food and floral bounty. Deeply humbling that those amazing plants and flowers and fruits and vegetables actually grew where we asked them to grow. And without demand, for the last two years. 

In the beginning -
that's me in the corner :)

The first year (2011), we just took a chance. About a week solid of digging a small patch not more than 8m x 6m, and then we trusted in some hard earned experience of veteran gardeners. In broad daylight (!) I raided the chicken coop of the Cappaduff farm and loaded with a bag of chicken poo, stole my way back to the Holly Cottage garden and spread the golden (stinking) gold dust. 

March 2011

We hadn't a clue really and we just followed instinct and the back of seed packets to guide us in our baby gardener steps. That first year - we had broccoli that would give the giant oak trees a run for their bark, giant sunflowers with  over 15 heads, peas to feed an army and spuds to feed a hungry couple for at least until the following spring. All from nothing. But nothing comes from nothing. 

The ground that had once been home to several leylandii trees - OK to look at but not much nutritional value - was just waiting to supply us with veggies and fruit for the year. That's the magic. That's the Good Earth. That's the soil that might well be one of the least understood systems on our planet. That's what Tony Juniper in 'What has nature ever done for us?' tells me. We rely on the soil - from Africa to China to inner Ireland - for over 90% of our food. It's a thin layer of so-called dirt - a derogatory name that beguiles it's power to make or break the non hunter gathering state of Homo sapiens. About a tablespoon of arable soil is home to more bacteria than there are people on earth...and those bacteria comprise representatives of some 20,000 species. One tablespoon. One tablespoon of soil. Mind blowing. Forget Mars exploration - let's get back to the ground beneath our feet. Surely it's worth understanding better what we are losing annually through soil degradation, erosion and pollution so that we can appreciate it's magic better and sustain food production for the 7 billion or so of us that are here today? And let's not forget the extra 2 billion set to join the growing global table by mid-century.  

July 2012..bigger and better

Anyway. Back to the ground outside our own door. Last year was a bit of a let down for us, easy to blame the weather - it did play a big part - but we certainly learned about blight (no famine thankfully), wind burned peas and disappointing Brussels sprouts. Slug anyone? Bumper crop there ;)

2013 is going to be a great year, I can feel it in my optimistic weather sensors. And this year, there was no back breaking digging, no endless picking of stones and rock from previous owners, and no digging of pesky tree roots. The soil is ready for planting - a perfect loose brown crumb, with last year's recycled food compost dug in along with a generous spread of chicken manure. It's beautiful. Not a plant in sight except for spring broccoli and hidden garlic bulbs waiting for the sun, but what a start and what a promise. This Good Earth just keeps on giving. 

Sunday Evening Sky Divine

Evening Sky Divine http://christophermartinphotography.com

It was after 5pm, and the February sun was lowering itself slowly and gently onto the tops of the tall trees that shroud Charleville Castle in eternal shadow and mystic. Holly dog and myself were well overdue a walk in the evening spring air - having over indulged in, well - actually another well overdue treat for the man and me in the shape of a decadent Sunday lunch out. We don't treat ourselves that often - small treats here and there for sure. Like baking fresh apple and cinnamon scones on Saturday afternoons, or sneaking an afternoon nap on the Holly Cottage sofa when the sun is golden through the tall glass doors. Bliss divine. 

Hurray for the weekend I say. Time to catch up on sleep, time to bake some treats, time to put on non-work clothes and swap style-less wellies for high heels and high boots. Wearing wellies is a daily event for me, and to be honest I do enjoy the non glamour aspect of the job, keeps it real ;) During the week, hair and make up are largely dictated by which way the wind is blowing and the rose in my cheeks is  cause of the near zero chill wind factor blowing over the open landscape. And fashion comprises bundles of fleeces and wind proof coats - less wondrous than the glistening frosty veils of delicate silver birch or the winter down of seed head heavy century flowers. Can't compete with the timeless beauty of those effortless style icons ;) I am a clumsy over dressed Homo sapiens chick trundling through the wilds compared to their subtle panache. 

I digress. Back to our Sunday evening sky. 

There's something wonderfully humbling about walking amongst the Charleville trees at dusk. They are the lords of the wood - the magnificent Oaks, splendid Beech and the astounding and ancient Yew. As we walked off our Sunday indulgences, the evening sun lit our way, but it was dropping slowly and gracefully out of sight. The Blackbird was the last bird to be silenced in the darkening woods - it's song so diverse and shrill in the chilling air. One last throw of the schtick and then it was our turn to hurry home in the cold twilight. Back to the warmth of the firelight, back to the hearth of home. And we left behind glorious pinks and reds and blues and dusky greys layered in a sky that promised another day of sunshine come tomorrow's morning. Bliss divine on a cold Sunday evening. Hope ye enjoy it wherever ye are. 

Back to the Holly Cottage Garden

The last two weeks have been busy, and in that time it seems that everything has changed. While I was busy driving around this small nation - from Dublin to Galway and down and up and across the fair Midlands - the birds, plants, flowers, trees, shrubs and even humans were subtly being transformed by the onset of spring. 

Defiant winter beauty

Let me fill you in. All of the snowdrops are up now - it started with one or two at the front of the house in early January, but now they are in great abundance and in rich clumps down through the length of fruit alley in the Holly Cottage garden. And then there are the other arrivals - irises and crocuses, some delicate, some beautifully strong and defiant (even when the scary neighbour dog comes in and kicks the crap out of them with his hind legs...grrrrr). The climbing roses are showing signs of new growth and blackcurrant and raspberry are showing those first yellow green leaves of 2013. Let me share with ye however the most significant and wonderful of all changes - the day is gloriously brighter and last week it truly, madly, deeply felt like spring. Happy days!!!! In fact, if the weather people are to be trusted (I know, it's ok to be guided by their past failures but let's be positive) it's not going to rain for at least five days!!! Bring on the sun screen!

It wasn't all quiet in the Holly Cottage garden this year and somehow we managed to get a few things done in between the showers. The whole garden was dug over, save for the broccoli and leek rows. The strawberry beds were gutted and old and new plants re-spaced. This was one of the great successes of 2012. From humble beginnings of 6 humble plants in 2011, we now have at least 160 ready for 2013, and if the bumper crop of 2012's 80 or so plants is anything to go by, we will be giving Wexford Strawberries a run for their money! We still have huge bags frozen from last year - great in smoothies. 

Following from the strawberry plants coup of the former herb, rhubarb and strawberry bed (they are certainly a dominating plant if you let the runners off - just cut them back if you  have enough plants), we had to extend again to find a new home home for the super rhubarb and the precious thyme, rosemary, lavender, oregano and mint members of the garden family. This time we passed on back breaking digging and used heavy duty fabric to cover a former grassy patch and just planted in the herbs at intervals. This will hopefully save on a bout of weeding in the height of the summer sun. Another small job back in December was planting the garlic - hopefully a better crop than last year's, and this time we got garlic bulbs for planting as opposed to garlic from who knows where that we sprouted from the shelves of the local supermarket. You live and learn, everyday. 

This weekend was for tidying up the last few standing after the winter - last of the parsnips are buried in a soup pot, straggly scallions that were a harbour for insatiable slugs are in the compost bin and the few tiny leeks that made it through are waiting patiently for tonight's risotto. There's still enough onions hanging in the shed to last until Easter and beyond and the spring broccoli will hopefully make up its mind soon to do it's thing...any second now.....

Last year was a tough year for gardeners and farmers, but we had a few highlights. The strawberries were amazing, some were the size of small lemons and they didn't suffer from lack of taste. The onions, carrots and parsnips faired well although there were mixed results from the beetroot. Those cucumbers were sensational and the tomatoes just OK, while we still have bright red chillies in the freezer to heart us from the inside on cold nights. These chillies and some mini, late scotch bonnets have become the base for some very tasty pepper sauce creations by the man of the house - bringing back memories of hot pepper sauce with everything in Barbados ;) The celery was a learning curve, don't think we'll go there again and the spuds were a disaster. Blight hit them early and there was no going back after that. This year we've order three blight resistant types - Orla (first earlies),  Sarpo mira and Sarpo axons. We'll see. Ordered from www.gardencentre.ie 

The future ;)

Now is the time for looking back and seeing what worked, and looking forward to see what we can handle in 2013. Everything though is reliant on the weather, and someday (when we grow up) we'll hopefully have a polytunnel to help extend our growing season and keep us out of the rain. We'll throw in a few new things here and there of course - always exciting to try a new crop. I'll keep ye posted. In the meantime, in my absence last week the other gardener was busy too and seed trays have been started with tomatoes, marjoram, basil, sweet peppers and some early rocket for the greenhouse. Other things started a while ago is a batch of lime pickle - takes about four weeks plus. This one was inspired by New Year's eve's trip to the local indian restaurant - again, I'll keep ye posted. 

In the meantime, there's some seeds to be planted today and hopefully some sun and cosmic rays to warm myself and Holly as we get finally, and thankfully get back out in action to the tiny wondrous world that is the Holly Cottage garden. 

Just one other thing - while walking out on a bog last week I was distracted by overwhelming grunting and well, sounds that would make you wonder! It was an orgy of frogs - amazing really. Tens of frogs all getting down together. Funny thing, it was Valentine's Day......what a sight  and sound spectacle ;)

There's a party going on just under that tree....

Here comes the Sun..

The faint sound of gentle guitar picking in my ears and the soft, liquid caramel voice of Nina Simone singing 'Here comes the sun, little darlin'...ah, bliss. It was there all the time, tucked away in the centre of our tiny solar system. But hidden from us by a barrage of heavy winds and torrents of rain all last week. The winds whipped up last Saturday and - apart from a reprieve on Wednesday afternoon when it seemed safe to unchain oneself from the wind resistant anchors and take a very short, almost daring walk up the road - they pretty much remained the dominant force in the Irish universe up until yesterday afternoon. 

Red - another king of Charleville

And now, here we are, absolutely and 100% surrendering to the awesome presence of the sun. It's the second day of February and January has left the building. Sure it's 99% psychological, but that small difference in the name of the month, those precious extra hours in the evening and today's burst of glorious golden shine - well, it's the most welcome stress and tension dissolver. You can feel the strain of tensed shoulders shivering for the last month just melting away in the warm embrace of the sun. Word of caution though, this morning the weatherman said make the most of it, so we certainly did ;)

The day started with an early trot over to see the famous King Oak - (http://www.treeoftheyear.org/?lang=en vote for it) - over the road on the way up to Charleville Castle. Holly was busy rooting through rotting leaves while I was just enjoying the morning sunrise through the trees, when all in a flash - a flash of russet red to be exact - the fastest Red Squirrel ever, crossed my vision in a blur and scarpered into the safety of the very same King Oak's branches. Great to see, always. It's not so common a sight, and the vulnerable Reds are losing out to the more aggressive Grey Squirrels (a non-native species 'introduced' decades ago as what seemed then a great birthday present idea for some very rich aristocrat, and then escaped into the wilds to reproduce and spread and for various reasons squeeze out Red). 

Red Squirrel - top middle of photo ;)
taking refuge on the King Oak

With my phone I managed to capture the tip of his ears as he watched us for high safety - you'll do well to pick it out in the picture posted here. After that, it was a a late enough chorus to call it dawn, but Blackbirds and Robins were in full voice, and Jays seemed to be popping out of every corner of the wood. The woods in Charleville are pretty special - there's plenty of variety in terms of species, and plenty of hidden corners and secret places to entertain the walker throughout the year. Bluebell time is probably my favourite though. Or that time in mid June when you can walk through the woods as late at 10pm and still see for the shade. Every time we leave the wood, Holly always finds a suitably over-sized schtick to bring home to add to her growing stockpile - today was no exception ;)

more schticks

Basking dog

After that it was time to bask in the sunshine, and we made the best of it. No work today - apart from making the most delicious banana-chocolate chip bread for the returning hard working man of the house. But that wasn't really hard work, and I followed HIS own easy recipe - half a cup of brown sugar, half a cup of butter (I used cooking oil), 1 egg, 1 cup wholemeal flower, 1 cup self raising flour, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 1 teaspoon all spice, a dash of rum, enough chocolate chips for your own taste (plenty!!!), four large bananas and milk to make the batter just moist enough - all in the oven at 180deg for just about an hour. A beautiful cake that is perfect for sitting outside - yes outside - with a cup  of tea and soaking in the sunshine on this fine Spring day. 

Lifting the Fog - some gentle reminders for the tail end of winter

This article also appears in Elephant Journal, published February 9th 2013
http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/02/lifting-the-fog-catherine-wilkie/

When the fog lifts...

The last week has had a bite to it. No complaints from my side of the house. I'd trade the grey and damp mundane for the drama of the Irish landscape cloaked in a thick freezing fog by morning, sun  peeking through by midday to warm the frozen fields any day. It's back to slow driving again, and frost covered windscreens in the morning. But it's magical. And bonus - the light has started to filter into the Holly Cottage kitchen by 7.30am, fading only at a generous 5.30pm evening time. I hardly know myself! Leaving the office in daylight, being able to view the Holly Cottage garden for at least 15mins when i land home every evening - it certainly lifts the spirits and makes one think that we made it through the worst of it all for this winter. 

Readers following www.hcottage.blogspot.ie will be aware that I wallowed in self pity last week as I bemoaned the horror of winter. Sorry for that. It was getting me down, or rather I was letting it get me down. It just seems to go on for so long, and no hint of sunshine for us lovers of the light. Urged on by the will to make it better I've been exploring buddhist philosophy to try to refresh and stir my own way of dealing with it. I was led to was is called in buddhism The Four Reminders. Apologies to those who are better versed in these matters, but I found some reminders for myself of the basic fundamentals of our human existence that really do get crowded out when we - please note I can only speak for my own dark moments - are buried in self pity and self interest.

The Four Reminders as explained in This Precious Life by Khandro Rinpoche (Tibetan nun, living in the US) are (paraphrased heavily) life is precious, life is finite, there is invariably suffering (I know - doom and gloom anyone, but wait!) and the life we lead, the decisions and actions we take all has an impact on the overall well being of the world we live our lives in - aka karma. Not so sweetness and light eh ;) Roughly translated to street speak - You get one life. It's the most precious thing you'll ever own/experience. You're completely responsible for that body and the life you live - so you really owe it to yourself to quit dallying and get living (flashback to that line in The Shawshank Redemption). There will be challenges, don't let them become insurmountable obstacles - just do it, slow, steady and consistently. And be the best you can be, it makes a difference to you and the world. In more detail...

Reminder 1: Life is precious. Think about it. The odds of you and I being here at this time, in this place. The gift of the amazing body we have that is essentially at minimum a complex of atoms and energy that can move, breathe, eat and taste amazing foods, see wondrous things and experience the world around us. And what is the world around us? Sun and moon and stars and trees and bees and ocean and coral and pandas and other people and structures living and non-living - all supporting us and there for us to experience - or ignore - whatever we choose. We get a scare every now and then, and something happens when we realise it could be taken from us at any time....leading onto.....

Seize moments of wonder ;)

Reminder 2: This life an't forever. This is the reminder of the impermanence of life. This one has the power to gather momentum. This realisation creates the urgency to live, really live. Imagine choosing to ignore this and going through your life in a haze of habit and un-thinking - ignorance I guess you call it, or taking life for granted, and then at the moment it might all be taken away, realising that it wasn't at all what you wanted it to be. It was a mistake. This is one of my own greatest fears - I admit it freely - to not pursue the chances that come, to choose the comfort and the monotony of the familiar when the unknown which is often so scary (in our minds) but so exhilarating (in reality). I did a skydive over two years - literally jumped out of a moving plane entrusting my life to my skilled tandem skydive expert. It was frightening, seemed completely ludicrous at the time as we climbed to 10,000 feet and then regardless of innate fear and self protecting mechanisms inbuilt since the dawn of human,  we flung ourselves to the mercy of the sky. As soon as it was done, I wanted to get back up there and do it again. I have a moment locked in my brain when we drifted, glided, gracefully waltzed down an imaginary skyslide and the world below was a distant dream. Beautiful.

Reminder 3: Suffering. Now, there's a whole lot of hells described in This Precious Life - my least favorite being the extreme cold hells that seem to be a living reality on some January days. I can't really relate to these ideas as described, but I take the reminder of Suffering as a form of reminding us that no matter how bad things are they could be a whole lot worse. Or that we need to examine our own suffering and realise whether it is self-inflicted - born of habit and destructive tendencies - and do we play a role in its continued existence. If we recognise that we are at least part of the cause of our own suffering, it's really our responsibility to deal with it and give ourself the chance to escape a vicious circle of self hurt. Like any form of addiction. A tough one I know. Sometimes the suffering is created completely by our own minds, and the inability to deal with it and get rid of it, a result of us preferring to hold onto the comfort of suffering and clinging again to what we know. And that's pretty sad. 

Reminder 4: Karma. This is a complex one - and please refer to more learned texts and knowledgeable teachings. I interpret Karma as us taking responsibility for our own lives, for the cause and effect of us. Being aware of how we treat ourselves and others. Our thoughts and actions impact of so many aspects of life that we really do have the power to bring peace and love (man) or that whole suite of negativity that brings no joy but anger, aggression, jealousy and pain. I know that given the choice we would all choose the positive, but how difficult is that when old hurts rise when one encounters a less than pleasant memory from the past? Or how easy it is to envy others instead of being happy for their fortune and getting on with realizing our own. These last few days I've been wishing January away and wishing for another life in a warmer climate and a Mediterranean substitute for Holly Cottage. That is so not good for the soul!

What's a gal to do? Well, I am sticking with my yoga practice - even though it's half hearted some days - don't let self criticism knock you down. Integral to the various postures (asanas) are the breathing (pranayama) and my resolve to gift myself at least 20mins every day of meditation. Some days those 20mins are calm and concentrated, and others it feels like I have a spaghetti junctions of thoughts between my ears and looping around the back of my eyes. But I see the difference already. I trust in the teachings of those who have learned before me and shared their journeys openly and honestly. I trust in my own intuition to help dissolve the myths and habits and thoughts that fool and misguide us everyday. 

And so, everyday I will remind myself how great it is to be alive and that I'm the one holding the wheel and controlling the gears. The goal is self realisation and maybe even enlightenment, and why not? Baby steps.

There is so much to learn and figure out in terms of our own habitual tendencies and behaviours, and how we owe it to ourselves to realise the best experience of living this precious life as far and as completely as possible. And so, worth exploring these Four Reminders. Taking time to remind ourselves. I know for me that it will mean changing some old entrenched habits and maybe not realising the effect for some time. Then it may be immediate. One thing's for sure, once you take responsibility for your own happiness then there's no shifting blame, no avoidance of reality and no easy way out. Surely this is the greatest challenge of our lives but the one that can transform us from barely living to joyously and blissfully-aware-experiencing?

Like lifting the fog on a freezing winter land and suddenly seeing and feeling a sun that was giving, and loving, and shining there all the time. 

Because January Hurts

A delicate beauty in a cold and harsh world

January hurts. 

We've made it kicking leaves through the amber tinted days of autumn. I even relished the nipping cold as the trees were undone in November and the sun sank to its lowest on the horizon through December. We bustled and rummaged our way through the Christmas season, glad for the comfort of brightly coloured lights draped on rooftops outdoors and the scattered tinsel that clung to lovingly decorated trees brought indoors to guard carefully wrapped presents.  New Year's was quiet and passive - great to be setting off on another temporal voyage, great to mark the start of the next chapter. 

But now. I'm stuck. Badly. It's not even the end of January. Still only the middle of it and it hurts!!! 

Still dark in the mornings - no more lying in and sleeping until the sun rises to ease the pain, holidays are truly done. Still cold and wet, still cutting breezes come to taunt us from the wild atlantic sea that batters our western shore. Still only a glimpse of sunshine on any given day. But when it does break through - well, the dark grey is transformed into a glorious golden that stirs the fire in an otherwise low activity fireplace - the fireplace that is the internal hearth. 

I was struggling with this the last few weeks. I couldn't quite explain my lack lustre and lack of enthusiasm, it was just a lingering mood. Now that I've recognised it for what it is - well, you see instead of making me feel worse I feel remarkably better! You see, we can try to pretend that everything is ok, that we are totally on top of things. But that just makes it all the more self delusional and unresolvable. But if - if - we recognise the problem, when we see it's face and call it by its name.....ay, there's real honesty and wisdom. Give the nagging feeling a name, give it a face. Then we are ready for the cure. Some may call it a sign of weakness. But I call it a huge leap in self honesty and accepting that we're not always as strong as we might like to think.

So what's the cure for January you might ask? Learn to love it. Re-wire the brain. Detach. Take each moment as it comes and see the wonder in it. 

In the meantime, here is one simple and true symbol of all that is fantastic and wonderful about January. Our drop of snow, our snowdrop, our first sign of spring and testament that beauty can be the face of the strongest and most defiant force though it wear a delicate and seemingly vulnerable coat. 

Snowdrops