Roadside Stalls No 1

Marshwood Vale, West Dorset

Rude veg

It's juvenile I know, but what with the current craze for wonky veg (you're all light years behind me by the way) I couldn't resist these two recent finds. The carrot was my very own and the butternut squash was in our veggie box - I am sure the box chaps do it on purpose as this is not the first ummm, well you know, appendage, ummm thingummy shaped squash....it won't be the last either I bet. 

The fruits of a plentiful season

It's been a splendid growing year. One of the best ever. The currants plentiful, apples smaller but sweeter and cucumbers galore. We have just reached the end of the tommies and chili with no green ones for the annual chutney session, but that will not stop me having a big making session in the next few days. The marrows will add the bulk and I am sure I can obtain some tommies from gluts elsewhere........so let the chopping commence and the fumes of vinegar and spice be intoxicating. 

Hello blossom!

Cherry

This display of blossom is up country at the family orchard in Gloucestershire. They are a few weeks behind us in Dorset where the blossom is cascading like frothy cream everywhere. It does feel like Spring is earlier this year. The hawthorn especially is looking quite superb, but up north it is hardly out. The same is said of the apple blossom - nothing out in this orchard, but my few trees in Dorset are showing a magnificent display.

What you see here is cherry, plum and greengage. The greengage is a true delight - it came down in a storm some 20 years ago and only the stump was left. What we have here is it coming back slowly but surely....hello blossom!

Plum

Greengage

Plum

Shropshire and Dorset Delight

My trip north to the River Severn last autumn was fruitful in more ways than one. I picked a bait bucket full of sloes which went straight into the freezer after my trip Severnside. I only got round to preparing them the other evening - mixed with gin of the cheapest variety and caster sugar I was extremely pleased to get three large jars out of my Shropshire sloes. What a splendid mixture and I find the colour quite comforting.

Luckily for me I always have a batch on the go, so while my Severn vintage does its thing over the next year or two it's time to crack open the Dorset Stour vintage - picked and prepared by a friend of mine from one of our favourite fishing haunts. Perfect to accompany the writing of the Christmas cards. Festive felicitations!

From this, to that, to that and finally this

Spring Head

John Piper - Foliate Head: Spring (1986)

The weather has been schizoid of late. The beginning of the trout fishing season has seen the local rivers up and down like a yo-yo with freezing cold winds to boot. The opening day proved to be the best day to actually cast a line - I didn't. Then we have had days of glorious warming sunshine and days of heavy rain. 

The plum blossom in the family orchard, which is up in Gloucestershire, is just peeping through. The pear will be next and maybe the cherry might have a spurt and beat them all - no sign of it yet. The joy that is the early days of spring blossom - you just don't know how each season will begin.

The ramsons are out and the swallows have arrived. A few have been darting about in Dorset and my diary tells me around now is the norm unlike last years amazing sighting on the last day of the coarse fishing season (March 14th). Very welcome they are too. Is it me, or do the seasons seem to arrive quicker each year? Maybe it's just me getting old.

January clear out

The time had come after the inevitable indulgence over the Christmas period - the freezer needed a clear out and an evaluation of its current contents. Rainbow trout from the river, luncheon meat (barbel bait which had been thawed and re-frozen far too many times), pike bait (various stages of freshness) and a glut of fruit from the garden.

The fruit I had for some reason totally forgotten about - redcurrants and blackcurrants galore. A plan was hatched and The Captain made a mouthwatering batch of jelly. Just nice on a crumpet or as an accompaniment with a roast - everyone wins!  

Dark Days Celebration

A week or two ago the trees were still heavy and laden with fruit. I picked the last of our few varieties here in Dorset before the winds came and then ventured up to Gloucestershire for what is know our annual "dark days" celebration. This is usually well after the traditional bonfire night burn up towards late November. It's more of a thank you to the orchard and offering of light ahead of the next apple season - Lord Summerisle would be proud!

There were still a great number on the trees, but really only the late Ashmead's Kernel, all the others that we hadn't got round to picking were like a sea of fallen baubles on the orchard floor. Some will be picked and others left for the birds.

The fire lit, rockets are shot up through the trees and their broken carcass to be excitedly found in daylight. This year was even more of an extravaganza as a forgotten about box of Standards finest was found hidden in the corner of the shed - let the dark days celebration begin!

Pink Moon

I occasionally have a little breather from the blog, so apologies for the paucity of posts........I have been fishing constantly over the past few weeks. It has been sort of all consuming in the loveliest way.

It all started with that amazing supermoon a few weeks ago. I went to bed listening to the superb world premiere of Max Richter's Sleep. An eight hour lullaby that was to be the soundtrack of my day. I awoke and it was still there, trundling like me as I gathered my tackle and travelled north to Shropshire. I arrived at the river as the low applause signalled its end - lovely.

The Upper Severn, this particular beat of the Severn, has a special place in my heart. Many happy memories and days with good friends many moons ago and my first visit in thirteen years or so. I just needed to come back to close the chapter as it hadn't happened back then.

The day was a joy - barbel and chub the quarry with my good friend Rocket Wrudd of Wigan (official supplier of fireworks to the Golden Scale Club). 

I left the river as the moon came up over the wood down river. Like Richter's Sleep it stayed with me all the way to Dorset and I viewed the climax at the best place in the world -  Eggardon. Wrapped in a duck down coat I felt like the only man alive. 

More blossom?

Blenheim Orange

Can you ever have enough? I know since starting this blog I may have overloaded you on the blossom front, but you will just have to put up with me I am afraid. It is one small part of the natural calendar that continues to bring me much pleasure. I have spent a good few hours this last week sat right in this blossom in our family orchard up country - it changes by the day and is a good place to contemplate life's tribulations with a mug of tea. It keeps coming - plum, cherry, pear, apple - sort of in that order, although we are seeing a second flush of pear blossom which I can't recall noticing before on those same trees which have already blossomed.

Cherry - then

Cherry - now

The blossom differs so much from tree to tree. Blenheim Orange is almost watery by comparison to the rich and dark Ashmead's Kernel. The whole orchard is alive with a myriad of insects and birds all taking advantage of this annual extravaganza.

Ashmead's Kernel

   
The scene changes daily and the slightest of winds can make you believe you are in a winter wonderland as a blossom blizzard covers everything. Nocturnal visitors include fox and badger who betray their presence by crapping in the orchard and the roe deer which like to tear the bark from the trees. All are welcome.

  

The blossom trail

A quick trip up to the Three Counties (the land of fruit, veg and cider) and just a tad too early for the blossom trail that surrounds Bredon Hill. I had almost forgotten how lovely it was up there around the hill. These pictures are in the village of Overbury where the magnolia was such a shade of white. Whiter than Tunnocks marshmallow, I could have eaten it. 

It feels like a world ago now. The temperature didn't get much above 7 degrees by lunchtime and this week in Dorset it's been 22-23 degrees - how weird is that? The mackerel are in, blossom is just coming through and the swallows first spotted on March 14th are now here in greater numbers. The trout are feeding on grannom and hawthorn (St Mark's fly) flies and the wild garlic is near, I can smell it and its glorious flowers will appear any day. The natural markers in the year of the countryside come and go.

Only 40 bottles to go!

We had such a glut of all the soft fruits this year. They never go to waste.  I managed to do a couple of gallons of the old Christmas cheer, nectar, winter warmer, soother, bringer of joy, linctus of happiness..........Jumbleberry Vodka!

Here you see the beginning of the operation - I haven't had a sip yet, honest. At the end of the operation the pantry (as I like to call it) or the larder (as The Captain likes to call it) will be groaning under the weight of more bottles to go alongside all the jars of chutneys, jellies, jams and...........bottles of beer!

Whilst clearing space I found a bottle of something which should really go under the buried treasure banner on this blog - a bottle of vintage strawberry vodka. Over 10 years old and I did have a little nip of that, medicinal purposes only of course........splendiferous!

A different kind of thud!

The apple harvest at my folks orchard has not been as good this year - it goes like that sometimes and all the usual guff about warm springs, wet springs, cold springs and that is before we even get on to blossom sort of makes sense, but at the end of the day I think it just gives the apple grower something to talk about.

I was pleased that we did manage a decent crop of my personal favourite the Ashmead's Kernel. I search each year for new apples to try and think one day that a variety which is new to me will beat the Kernel, but it hasn't yet. Some have come close, but the AK is still top of the charts.

This Gloucestershire variety is picked in late October / early November and eaten from now until February.

They make a tremendous thud as they hit the ground and I am pleased that the Fieldfares and Redwings have not yet arrived as it would be a race to see who got to them first - they love them just as much as me.

This bowl full is no more - part of the five a day alongside a pile of cheese, chutney and crackers! Worry not though - a few more are stored and ready to take their place to get me through the next few weeks.