Wishbone Soup Cures Everything

Dear Readers, Here we are! Not lost, just busy, just tired, just taking a moment to sit with our shared flask of ginger tea, wiping our snotty noses, watching winter and spring swing around in their season-switching dance. Hard frost crackles, soft petals bloom. We had been busy with the old art of hedge laying, busy sorting and tidying the felled trunks, branches, and twigs. There are heaps and stacks and bundles - these boundaries have been untouched for decades - but birds are beginning to gather materials for nests, heralding the end of our hedgework for a while. Our thoughts have turned to The Planting Plan, so we pace around measuring canopy distances before going home to pour over the map, again, again.   Two plum trees wait in pots, they have their spots marked. Everything else is a maybe. Down along the iron fence are lines and lines of daffodils, all in bud. Only one has opened, a miniature narcissus staring bravely up at the big world. We are inspired of course, thoug

We had wanted a puppy and while at 10 months old she was not quite that, we saw her in the rescue home and we knew she was right for us. She was a liver and white Springer Spaniel, real name Midi (not too big, not too small) with a slender, tentative form. I respected her privacy so online she was known as Dog- many of you, Dear Readers, have watched her grow up with us, and will be sorry to learn that her adventures have ended now: please read on, come with us, it will be okay. The hesitancy young Midi Spaniel held towards her new home was reserved for indoors. Outdoors she was absurdly reckless, usually clumsy. She pelted over barbed wire, through thorns, jumped five bar gates; she threw herself into the sea, the river, the lake, the muddy puddles, rolled merrily in dung- she hated the bath. She did not much care for the company of other dogs, though with persistence she learned tolerance, and once fell in reciprocal love. She adored children. Children could be trained to play fetch

'January 1st, 2022:  In bed, chinking coffee cups, we say- what will this year bring? We hope it’s a track and a toilet shed.' Day 1: Our DIY shed kit having been scheduled for delivery on a day on which neither of us was working, we arrived at the land having barely finished our morning coffee. Mr had pre-constructed a base, 10 feet by 8 feet, which we diligently levelled. Then we waited. We had a picnic lunch. We napped in the dapples under an ash tree. We had afternoon snacks. We wandered to survey the wild blooms, discovered an unexpected tomato plant. Somewhere between 4 and 5pm the van arrived and was directed up to the shed site; the terse driver helped us unload, and then sped away to the next ‘place in the middle of nowhere.’ We stared at the heap of flimsy panels and knew that we were wrong to skimp and go for the good price and let ourselves be lulled by the internet write-up. But perhaps we let our expectations run too far? There’s one way to find out - start the ad

Work continues on preparing the flat areas for seeding with grass and clover. We have a new routine of stopping at County Tyres to fill the van with their cast-offs, before getting to the land, unrolling one bay’s worth of weed suppressant membrane, weighing it down with one line of stinky rubber and one line of soil dug from the stony ground. By then we are overheated, feel like we’ve been dunked in vaseline, decide that will do for the day, and snort at ourselves for thinking all of this would be done in a few hours. Usually, we head home for a nap, but sometimes we have company. On this particular day, we are hosting a family picnic- the gazebo is up, some rudimentary furniture is brought from the stable, the cold box is unpacked, salad is chopped. Grandchildren 6 & 7 are here with their Mum, they are ‘helping’ which they are surprised to discover does not include rolling the tyres down the hill. Being made to attempt to recover the tyres does dampen their enthusiasm- G7 informe

June’s weather has been issued in short spells: sunny-dry, sunny-drizzle, cloudy, downpour, rainbows, humid, might-rain-might-be-blowy. Washing is on the line to dry or to get an extra rinse. Roses bloom, and when I get a chance to check the polytunnel there are tomato plants rising, the strawberries and nasturtiums are zooming over the path, the lovage has doubled. When I get to the land, with Mr, Old Dog, and grandchildren 6 & 7 (aged 4 and 3 respectively) there are tracks through it. This is magic to all of us: we, the adults who instructed this progress and fully expected to see it, and the children to whom this is pure surprise. Knowledge is no impediment to murmuring ‘wow’ and savouring the press of our boots into bare earth as we wander up through the fickle mizzle. I see the levelled area which will become an outdoor kitchen: it’s mud and scraped nettle root and it makes my heart boom YES THIS IS IT! We walk to the top field to admire the yellow digger, the huge blue tra

14/5/22 Saturday I am at work. Hydrotherapy on a warm spring day leaves us relaxed like rag dolls. Washing is pegged and dried on the line. I had to add extra water to the lupin which appeared to have fainted. All the pots are well mulched but they dry out anyway. Luckily the maintenance is pleasing. I tell the plants how beautiful they are, and taste-test the mint. Mr is out at Paddock Garden cutting up felled trees and clearing nettles to make compost tea while Dog slumbers in the stable. 15/5/22 Sunday I peg washing on the line before leaving for work; as I start the car a light shower also begins. Goodbye washing, enjoy your second rinse! At work we have a mission of putting together some jubilee planters, so we scour the garden department at Homebase for red, white, and blue blooms. I have mixed feelings about the jubilee, partly because the world is on fire and that seems more important. I’m neither a royalist nor a hater. It was good to have a Queen when I was growing up, she w

23/4/22 Saturday Coffee and stretches start this day, then I go off to work and Mr readies himself to meet Contractor Thomas on the land, to talk tracks and flat areas for camping pitches. (This meeting has taken around 5 months to arrive, and that’s how it goes with land plans, folks.) Hydrotherapy sessions have restarted, so to keep our care client entertained but not tired prior to this we have set up disco lights to play over her mat where she sits with her toys. It’s a cool clouded day and we are all disco-dappled and listening to birdsong on YouTube. 24/4/22 Sunday Rain, moderate, mostly over Bodmin Moor. Our care client is tired from her hydrotherapy yesterday, she plays on her mat in between snoozes. We have lakeside and beach scenes courtesy of YouTube; she loves the sounds of nature, I love pretending to be on a writing retreat. Get writing done in short bursts. It is not easy to world build in break times like this, but we edge through it. I type ‘we’ here because Care Clien

2/4/22 Saturday No hydrotherapy for care client (or me) today- which is a shame because my glutes could benefit from heat treatment. Instead, we took a spin in her new car - and discovered it has heated seats! Happy glutes, although the warmth floods in like unexpected menstruation so it’s not entirely pleasant at first. Outside the temperature has dipped, we are indoors now with the heater on, playing a YouTube scene of a lakeside, with cherry blossom and vibrant birdsong. Care client is plucking her guitar. I am psyching myself up to get back into novel writing. Just a sentence or so, I say, that’s all you need do, to break the habit of not doing it. I will make a hot drink, I will remember how good it feels to get this work done. 3/4/22 Sunday This morning the curtains drew back to a blank sheet of mist. I ventured to the vernal lushness of the polytunnel to cut myself a bowl of leafy veg. My fingers were iced on the return journey, though the garden is getting warm with floral col