Springtime iced tea

The living is easy in spring! The back door is open and we flow in and out of the house as the mood takes us. Yesterday I managed to get through a lot of housework, cooking and washing up. The weather has been lovely - warm and breezy. I smoked through 5 loads of laundry and I have another two under my belt this today. The first, crisp, line dried bedding of the year will be going on the bed this evening. Bliss.

 

 
Spring and summer are months for mooching off of mother nature. No extra energy (money) need be applied to warming the house, drying the laundry...or making tea. The herbs in the back border are springing up with no effort on our part. Yesterday was also Earth Day, time to celebrate its gifts! Our patio is a sun trap that is usually several degrees warmer than the street and yesterday it was warm enough to brew sun tea. I stumbled upon this concept on an American blog a few years back and have since made a few different versions and read lots of different recipes and methods. Always on the lookout for ways to reduce our fuel use and keep our kitchen cool in the summer, neither of these methods require use of the kettle. Also, you get tea!

There are a few hard and fast rules. Consistent direct sun and warm air temperature are required. Alternatively you can brew tea in the fridge if you leave it to steep for long enough - that method is actually considered safer, as lukewarm water left for several hours may be a breeding ground for bacteria. The jar should be cleaned thoroughly to reduce the chances of nasties ending up in your tea. I have made few different versions, but today's is very light. When summer is in full swing I will be making a huge jar that lasts through to the next day. The larger the quantity, the longer it will need in the sun.

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 Springtime Sun Tea - 2 servings

1 pint cold water

1 1/2 tsp loose leaf black tea

2 large sprigs each of fresh mint and lemon balm

Sugar and ice to serve (optional)

Place your tea ingredients into a lidded glass jar and place outside in direct sunlight for at least 4 hours. Alternatively place in the fridge for at least 6 hours, until desired strength is reached. Shaking the jar occasionally speeds up the process.

Place the jar in the fridge until cold. Strain into glasses and serve.  

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This is a very different tea drinking experience to hot tea. Lukewarm and cold brewing draws out different compounds at different rates to boiling water. I hate hate HATE chamomile tea with a passion - or at least I did until I made it in a jar in the fridge. Lovely stuff! I will never ever make iced tea from hot brewed tea again. That method brings out the bitter tannins and roastiness -  this one draws out the delicate summery fruity, floral flavours.

I also happen to know that a tot of whiskey or rum and some soda water doesn't go amiss in this after the kids are tucked up in bed. Ahem. 

Happy St George's Day!

I hope you enjoy this green and pleasant land today. We will be in the garden, doing our bit to make it it a little greener and more pleasant.

Squashhenge

Spring has well and truly sprung today. This should have happened sometime in early February, but we have shared the crazy mad weather that the rest of the country has put up with this year. But today, finally - today was a fine day to spend an afternoon on the allotment. In flip flops. The highlight of my week? The moment this morning that I realised that (six weeks late) flip flop season was upon us. 

High on sunshine, we have been so bold as to plant out our squash plants. This is winter squash 'Jaspee de Vendee' from Chase Garden Organic Vegetable Seeds, started off indoors in newspaper pots as Cucurbits don't generally appreciate having their roots disturbed. If a heavy frost should kill them all in the next week, we still have time to get some more going through early May. According to the many enticing stories about this squash I have gathered on the Web, I am to expect a bumper crop of sizable, super sweet and tender squashes that are ideal for desserts. The worst that anyone has said of them so far is that they are a little ugly for a squash - probably not one for glorious autumnal photo montages then.

We didn't bring anything to mark their position and so instead utilised our plot's most abundant resource - stones. Each plant sits in a foot-wide circle(ish) of stones making them noticeable enough that we won't tread on them. This had the pleasing side effect of allowing the watering we gave them to stay put and seep into the soil around them instead of running off in all directions; and it also gives us a nice target area to heap on the compost over the season.

I love squashes and pumpkin. I think it has as much to do with my love of autumn as for their delicious creamy sweet flavour. I love the fact that you can use every part of them from the skin to the seeds. I love the fact that you can put them on a cool shelf and they will carry you through to February. Protection and watering concerns aside, building little stone monuments to honour them seems a perfectly productive use of my time (you know, just in case I am wrong and that there are in fact supernatural pumpkin spirits to placate). These plants will be mollycoddled like no other.

And,  once again - it is flip flop weather, finally. Which means summer is only a month or so away. And then, it will be autumn! Plenty of good things to do and see and eat between now and then, followed hopefully by lots of squash filled baked goods.

What is going on in your garden?

The seeds of thrift

This is a musing on all the things I learned the hard, expensive way over the last few years, about that most frugal garden ingredient - seed. Tubers, bulbs, roots are a whole different animal and I am not confident my pocket is tamed enough in regard to those creatures to offer any solid advice. But seeds...seeds are simple. Once you have several years of mistakes behind you, of course.

It begins long before the first sowing. Gardening catalogues are promises of luminous shiny wonder (that you can buy! Heaven!) - and the promise of purchasable shiny wonder is ruinous to the pocket. They usually arrive during the gardening lull of winter, which makes them even more potent. So, take a step back and breathe. Think about the things you actually like to eat or look at; and then narrow it down further to things you will actually be able to grow in the space, soil and climate you have available. Even better, before you buy, see what seeds you can scavenge from gardening friends. Later on, when you have seed of your own, you can participate in seed swaps in your community or even online.

Where to buy seed is an interesting question. I have had excellent germination rates from cheap value ranges  and I have had very poor rates from some of the large seed merchants. I am not convinced that branding and price indicates good viability and so I would suggest starting with a few of the cheaper ranges if you are not particularly concerned by variety.  I wonder if anyone has ever tried to cash in on money back guarantees when they have a particularly poor show? There are also ethical considerations such as organic accreditation and heirloom rescue that the are only taken into consideration by a a handful of smaller niche companies; as always there is a balance to be struck between personal resources and personal ethics.

Once you have your seeds, before you even open the packets - you need to know how to look after your seed. I really didn't realise that even mild but frequent temperature fluctuations were ruinous to seed viability. With the exception of a handful of species, seed can be kept for more than one season if properly stored. There are several handy tables online if you Google 'seed viabilty table', many of which contradict each other and will eventually be contradicted by your own personal experience. The basics of seed storage are as follows:

Cool - In the fridge (not freezer!), or cool spot of the house. Too high a heat will dry seeds out too much, requiring special coddling to get them to germinate. 

Dry - I save those little silicon sachets from parcel deliveries and keep one or two in my tin. Fridges especially encourage condensation.

Dark - The fridge once again, or a cupboard, or an opaque tin.

Organised - Securely stored and labelled with variety, production/collection and sowing dates.

Consistent - All of the above conditions need to remain constant.

Unless space is really at a premium, don't be afraid of sowing 'expired' seed, but sow them more generously than you otherwise would to increase the chances of some seedlings developing. I have Tomatillo 'Violet' seeds that expired 3 years ago and 2 out of 16 seeds I planted this year have germinated. Hopefully I will be able to save more seed if those two seedlings survive. Which they should, because this gardener's shadow is cast across them at least 10 times a day, checking in on them like an anxious new parent.

Saving seed is advanced horticultural magic. The book Back Garden Seed Saving by Sue Stickland is a very good introduction to the pleasures and problems of this topic. I am halfway through and recommend it if you want to save your own seed. Whilst for most varieties it is isn't difficult, some easily cross pollinate or need to be encouraged to set seed. We save the easy ones on a small scale - a sunflower head, a couple of lettuce plants and rainbow chard, a few tomatoes left on the vine and a handful of bean pods. This will save money in the long run and obviously has many other benefits in terms of genetic diversity and species resilience.

I know all of this sounds very simple, but these are all mistakes I made. We grew 4 different courgette varieties just because they were productive - and neither of us really like courgettes. I took the seed tin out in the rain for a few minutes and the resulting condensation turned several packets to mouldy spores. I left unlabelled, open packets in the bottom of our seed tin and came back to a mess of unidentifiable seeds. All expensive, frustrating mistakes when you add them up that I have learnt my lesson from. So, whilst I hope I have all this seed stuff down, is there something I am yet to learn?

Today, it began

...which is why I am finding the time to post twice today, to let out some of the sheer joy that I would otherwise buckle beneath.

Something in the air changed recently. I don't have set dates for beginning these things, I just have a feeling, when it's time, it's time. Inspite of the snow, of the biting wind, the greyness of it all...my bones said it was time to begin. The sun is returning, even if it is schlepping a little, unseen, through these dull January skies. 

Modestly, with just one small seed tray in the propagator on the windowsill, we have begun to sow our seeds. There are tomatillo 'violet', aubergine 'early long purple 3' and the last 3 seeds of chilli 'pretty in purple' (all very colour coordinated I now notice). These are all indoor or patio crops, though I might try the tomatillos on the allotment and see what happens. Usually I start things too early - tens of tomato seedlings vying for window side seats and greenhouse space that doesn't exist, months before they can be planted outside. My bones may be telling me to wait, but my brain is high on the promise of spring and has me throwing nightshade seed around like rice at a wedding. This year, mindful modest effort, in this and many other things.  Enthusiasm is a double edged sword.

I had intended to start a few broad beans and leeks in the mini greenhouse, but I inadvertently created a mini pond with it by leaving it out all winter to collapse under the weight of rain and snow. I am too much of a weakling to attempt draining it in this horrible weather. Weakling me didn't even stay outside to do the messy work of sowing, but instead brought the soil to the seed inside the house, sitting at the dining table with a mug of tea to set about my work. This will of course teach me not to leave garden equipment out all winter (and to at least strap it down if I do). I will learn my lessons from here on in.

 Mindful modest effort - with a smattering of exuberant enthusiasm - always.

The longest month

Every winter I am melancholy, usually more intensely so after the winter solstice. My rational mind tells me that the darkest days are now behind, but by that point the damage is done and the dull wet landscape particularly dispiriting. I find myself wanting to sleep for 14 hours a day (if only!) and to lock myself away for the rest of the time. My brain slows down and everything is a little fuzzy until well into February. By March, I am quite content again.

This year I resolved to get outside more. Every day I need to get outside and see sunlight; not just on my way to someplace, but to really get out and see. A walk, a good long potter around the yard, sitting in the park. Not just to soak up the light but to find something in this grey urban landscape to be inspired by.

I 'borrowed' my neighbour's dog a couple of days ago and headed out for a walk around the grounds of the mental hospital. This is one of the most beautiful corners of my neighbourhood, sprawling Victorian landscaping, no flower beds, just trees and shrubs and lawns. Everything is a little wild and overgrown and if you stray from the main road, you could be in the countryside.  I ran with her through the muddy grounds, she was happy, as was I when I dropped her home. 

On Monday I didn't make it anywhere, but made up for it yesterday.  I spent 15 minutes pottering in the garden an hour after the sun rose. The yard is a mess - less pottering and photography and more tidying next time!

Spring comes early to our patio yard. It hasn't seen a killing frost yet. The annual geraniums have stood through the winter, the chard is looking majestic as opposed to standing-but-battered. There are random bulb plantings left over from previous occupants that spring up every year and this year they have started particularly early. Most  importantly of all, the rhubarb is on its way.

Later we took an afternoon stroll to the beach. We sat and had a cup of tea from The Coffee Cup and then wandered along the prom, then back through the gardens, which is a whole other post, because we found yet more nooks and crannies of Portsmouth that we never knew existed, hidden in plain view.

Fresh air and greenery are the very best medicine for a funk; add a little exercise in and I feel a thousand times better. I had a solid seven hours of unbroken sleep, a rarity these days.

Dogs are also good medicine. Have I ever mentioned how much I wish I had a dog of my own? A huge, shaggy house-bear of a dog, like a Newfoundland. A house bear that could drag me out of the house in the depths of winter. Oh for a bigger house and a large garden. One day, one day.

Happy Easter

...and now it is April. Time seems to speed up the older I get; and days and weeks and months have flown by since I was last here. In the meantime, I have received new comments that I am yet to reply to, new followers (welcome) and a whole heap of blogger's guilt.

Months have passed in a blur of new responsibilities, new activities and a lot of interrupted nights. And now, things haven't so much settled, rather we have settled into this new reality. And so now I am back. It is spring, a time of newness and awakening and rejuvenation. It is time to wake this blog up.

So...Merry Christmas! Happy new year! Happy Easter! And all other good wishes that should have passed in between. It's good to be back.

Frugal fun

I have had a week off from work, which for once coincided with family visiting - which in turn, for once, coincided with another week of fine weather. Usually we end up spending a small fortune when we visit people or they visit us, possibly because we feel like kill joys if we say no. A steady stream of eating out, coffee and cake, small gifts and visiting various attractions that are usually less entertaining than the blurb suggests gradually eats away at our budget and leaves us short for the rest of the month. This was not a month however for overspending our budget and we explained the situation with as positive a spin as we could.

Sometimes (funnily enough, usually always coinciding with time away from my paid employment) I manage to get my act together, make a plan and stick to it. A few hours work resulted in our contribution to a delicious and frugal picnic lunch, all made from scratch (mayonnaise and all, including the first salad pickings from the garden). In a word, I am...smug.

We ate the picnic lunch in the garden of the holiday cottage and then paddled in the sea at a lovely sandy beach in Sussex. We tried to engage toddlers in a sandcastle building project that was blatantly more fun for us adults than it was for them. We went to the woods for a barbeque that didn't get rained off.  We have spent a fair amount of time driving around beautiful countryside, just as the hedgerows are in full bloom and the spring babies are out in the fields. We had cream tea in a quaint little tearoom followed by (slightly wistful)  window shopping around an equally quaint town.

In short, I have spent more time gadding about in nature than I normally would being city bound - and I realize I need to make an effort to get out more to green leafy places. I have eaten more strawberries and whipped cream in one week than I normally do in a whole year. All very frugal, all very relaxed, all great fun; which is just how I remember my childhood holidays to be.

What frugal fun have you had this week?

It rained

I feel I can actually take full credit for the heavens opening up. On Friday I decided to felt the jumper and coat I had been debating the fate of for months. Apparently no offering to the rain gods  is quite as effective as putting heavy felted wool garments on the line to dry - that night it poured. I should say no offering except of course the smell of charred meat, because the barbecue I was due to attend on Saturday also ended in a washout. An hour before I was due to leave work to go to said shindig, the heavens opened and tropical amounts of rain fell. I aquaplaned in flip flops across the courtyard to the car and we crawled straight back home through standing water.

I am not complaining at all (granted, pulled pork and homemade burgers would have been a lovely end to my working day) - the lack of rain over the last few weeks has been worrisome, a sign of things to come perhaps? The rains will bring relief to those who have been battling wild fires across the country and to those farmers who have had to irrigate early. On a personal note, I have loved lying in bed listening to the thunder and waiting for the odd flash of lightning, knowing that the allotment isn't wilting without my attention. It is interesting that I grew up in one of the driest counties in the country - and am now intending to go back there - and yet a few weeks without rain now makes me distinctly uneasy.

Everything in the garden looks green and perky too. My efforts with a watering can during the dry spell just weren't good enough; and what was really needed was a sustained thorough soaking over a few days. The honeysuckle is finally budding (after three years of waiting), very happy in its new pot against the south facing wall. The salad has rocketed over the last few days and is ready to be picked. The herb bed has really taken off this year too - including the tarragon, which I had assumed had been lost to the snow and ice last winter, that finally poked its head through the soil this week. The water butt has had a chance to recoup its losses from the last few weeks, in preparation for what could be a long hot summer - or a complete washout (this is Britain after all) - but its best to be prepared.

Laundry weather

Today has been the sunniest, warmest day of the year so far. The patio was positively baking - perfect weather for hanging out the laundry, especially as there was a slight breeze blowing. Not the kind of day that I wanted to spend hanging around the house loading and unloading the washing machine.

Most of the western world is accustomed to being able to access (relatively cheap) concentrated forms of energy at the flick of a switch. Whilst line-drying is 'normal' in the UK, most of us never really have to arrange our lives around the intermittent availablity of energy or the passage of day or night. We can choose to do all of our work at night thanks to 24 hour electric lighting, we can dry our laundry whenever we want thanks to radiators and tumble dryers. Hot water increasingly comes from on-demand boilers. Any physical commodity we need can be produced far away and transported to us quickly over long distances with little effort on our part. I can't see this happy state of affairs continuing for much longer. Certainly in the short term I think we will see energy shortfalls that will force us to rearrange our lives around an intermittent energy supply and resource constraints. We will have to consider what use we want to put the energy and resources we do have to - and we will start to look at 'ambient' energy - the warmth of the sun, daylight hours - as an actual resource to work with.

As it turned out, I managed to get two full loads of laundry washed and dried. It smells lush - that faintly burnt but fresh scent that cotton sheets take on when they have been hanging out in the sun. It also gave me the opportunity to use the peg bag I have been crocheting for the past few evenings out of the ends of last years balls of dishcloth cotton. Every year I seem to buy new pegs as the old ones gradually go astray or I leave them on the line to get mildewy, rusty or brittle. Last week I bought some new wooden ones and vowed they would see me through more than one year of laundry hanging. Their new home is a little garish, but sturdy. I saved money, enjoyed some quiet crochet (and ensuing sense of accomplishment - small things, I know) - and, I hope, saved my pegs to see another summer.

Somethings sprung

The last few weeks, compared with the Februarys of recent years, have been positively balmy. The extra warmth means that things are happening out in the garden:

A few loads of laundry have even made it out onto the whirligig to dry in the breeze and sunshine. Windows have been opened to let in some fresh air. In turn, I am in spring cleaning mood; and for once I seem to actually have the wherewithal to get on and do it. Carpets and furnishings are being cleaned, woodwork is being dusted, and tiles are being scrubbed. All of which is so absorbing for once, I haven't had the time or energy to do much else.

All of this is cheering. I think that I have found this last winter the most depressing in memory, for reasons that I can't quite put my finger on. I grew up in a part of the country that looked utterly beautiful through more severe winters and (very slightly) shorter days than this city ever experiences. Portsmouth doesn't have the ability to transmute stark winter skies, bare earth and bone chilling cold into anything I find particularly inspiring. The few days of snow that turned this part of town into a snowy village scene turned just as quickly to a month of slush and road grit.

This dissatisfaction is partly my own fault of course - winter doesn't have to be so depressing, even in a city. I think that I  have massively underestimated the importance of colour and beauty in my life in recent years. A puritanical streak has been given free rein, which has resulted in a life of utilitarian objects, dark colours and not enough walks in the more picturesque parts of my locality. This year one of my projects will be to reverse all that and introduce a little more colour into our days, that next winter might be a little less galling.

For now the sun is shining, the days are lengthening and life is good.