Gardening is good therapy

I might complain about having conversations with cows, because we live off the beaten track, and 3 miles from the nearest (community) shop or bus stop, but I have to say there are times when I am so profoundly grateful to live in the back of beyond.  This weekend, needless to say, is one of them. Whilst I am very much aware of what is going on in the world, my blog is not normally a place where I air my views or discuss politics or religion or current affairs.  Suffice it to say that the people of Paris (and Beirut, and anywhere else that oppression and murder are carried out by minority cults) are very much in my mind right now.  Particularly the parents of the young folk killed at that pop concert.  Any one of them could have been mine.

It was very stormy here last night - a gale howled about the place like it was auditioning for Wuthering Heights.  I lay awake listening to it for over 2 hours before deciding I might just as well get up, so at 20 to 5 I was downstairs, busy with my crochet, and watching an episodes of Escape to the Country, which is my normal routine.

I went back to bed eventually, and slept until 10.20 a.m. which is unheard of for me!  I came down and had breakfast and wandered outside to top up the bird feeders, which were of course empty or nearly so, as the birds have been arriving in their swarms to make the most of this largesse.

I looked up, aware that something was wrong in the hinterland of my peripheral vision.  Yup, the green Wyevale polytunnel had done a runner again, but fortunately wasn't half a mile away in the valley bottom as it was last time, but instead was lieing on its back on the muddy farm track, tethered by one wooden peg.  It was soon back in place, and my husband and I set to with binder twine and hefty breeze blocks, tethering it down with the twine over the top of the frame, and secured . . . securely.  Hopefully that will keep it there the rest of the winter, because if I have to take it down and dismantle the frame, I know I will never remember which bit went where when we come to reassemble it (which is why it is left out.)

Anyway, I was soon raking and cleaning and weeding the pathway up to it, and sweeping the concrete path clear of leaves, and then I got the secateurs and was tidying back the last of the autumn raspberries (still fruiting, but not really enough to leave in situ).  We got out the black plastic sheet to put across the veg plot, once I had removed the last row of runner beans and thank heavens, all the worst of the weeds are now hidden from view!

I need to weed the leeks (top of picture) and around the raspberry canes, but if tomorrow afternoon is dry, I will get out there then.

Anyway, after lunch I finally ripped out the huge amounts of yellow Nasturtiums, which were STILL growing and blooming.  I had plans for that bed, which houses the garlic, and that needed to get planted.  I was fortunate in finding some Elephant Garlic (photo above - it is ENORMOUS!) in The Range in town, so bought three packs.  I also had some of my home-grown garlic to go in (all the biggest cloves) and some French red garlic.  I planted 43 cloves in all, so I hope it grows as well as last year's did.

Around this point, I looked down (having just wiped my muddy hands on my jeans) to find out I had my best going-to-town cords on.  Ah.  NOT my gardening cords.  Ah well, they wash well . . .

So here is the raised bed which is the Garlic plot, carefully covered  over to dissuade cats (Ghengis in particular) from using it as a cat convenience.  Progress anyway, and a job ticked on my list of "things to do."

The Brecon Beacons

Yesterday (Friday) we went to the auction at Brecon, and as my right hip was playing up, I took myself up the lane behind the auction house to try and loosen things up.  Here are a few not very good photos of the Brecon Beacons.  We are SO blessed to live near to such an outstandingly beautiful area.

That's the flat top of Pen-y-Fan in the distance.

Auctions can be strange places.  I always find it rather sad to see the sum of peoples' entire lives stuck in one room, as boxes of "odds", individual desirable (or not) pieces of china, pieces of furniture - often shabby - military medals of people long forgotten and strangers to those who buy them, things which were treasured by their owners, who might have had very little of real value but everything now reduced to a common denominator - all for sale.  Some auctions, of course, have very desirable belongings, but the ones we go to are often just "house clearance" and are the items no longer needed or wanted by the remaining family (where there is one).  The one "good" thing in the sale is the one EVERYONE wants.  A strange old world this.  In the light of yesterday's happenings in Paris, a very sad and desperate world to inhabit.

Winter wheat in this field by the look of things.  Very green and lush.

A slightly different angle.

Looking northwards now.  The auction was too the right, foreground, out of shot.

Taken to the right of the previous photo, a bracken-clad hill.  Sheep-farming country this.

The lane back down to the auction with, in the distance, Hay Bluff.

The continuing (until yesterday!) mild weather has encouraged this Purple vetch to flower again.  It gladdened my heart to see it.

Finally, today I happened across several packets of Elephant Garlic (which I had been looking for), reduced to half price in town.  I bought three and will get them planted tomorrow, along with my home-grown garlic and some French red garlic.  That should be me and my girls sorted for next year then. . .

R.I.P. Lucy

Lucy was my mum's cat.  Daughter of Lucky, who came to us as a stray about 20 years ago now, and sister to long-haired Fluff, who is still with us.

She lived downstairs with my mum, and was always a people-cat - she loved laps, and beds (inside them was always considered better than on top!) and couldn't understand why mum couldn't fuss her anymore once she'd had her stroke.  She was always with her, and was my last link with mum, who died back in 2007.

Of course, after mum's death, Lucy came upstairs to join the rest of the cats, but she was always slightly shunned because she had lived her own life with mum, was fed down there, and was out hunting a lot, so not "one of the gang."  She lost that eye after she and Lucky had opted to be on the same chair at night - one jumped on the other, who retaliated, lashed out, and despite lots of vet treatment, the infection accelerated and she had to have her eye removed.  She carried on hunting, but it left her vulnerable, especially towards the end of her life when the boys would take advantage of her blind side to dab her in passing, or worse, as she got very frail.

We knew this year (her 18th) would probably be her last.  She drank lots and it was obvious her kidneys weren't too good.  She had lost a lot of muscle tone and gone really grey (her mum, Lucky, had a silver "undercoat" beneath the black).  She was increasingly fussy about food and used to drive me mad when I had to offer four different breakfasts and she "might" deign to have a mouthful of the last.

About a month ago, when she was on our bed, I heard her yowl in a way which wasn't good.  I rushed in to see her, but she seemed OK, though after that she took to often sitting in the litter tray instead of on a chair.  On Sunday, when we were out at the Fleamarket all day, I noticed she had banged her head on the table or something when jumping up onto her chair, and there was a graze.  She spent Monday afternoon and evening, on my lap, happy as a sandboy, as I crocheted above her head. Whether or not the knock  had anything to do with it, suddenly on Tuesday afternoon I found her wandering, rather dazed-looking, around the kitchen.  I knew that her time had come.  I don't know if she had had a slight stroke or if it was just an inevitable downturn from her age, but I took her on my lap and stroked her gently until it was time for the next surgery at the vet's and we took her on her final journey.

She is buried by the apple trees at the top of the yard, and we have planted a cutting of the Banksia rose over her.  I like to think she is reunited with my mum now. . .

Rainy day pictures and books

The weather seems set to be rainy all week.  I had to go out and deliver a birthday card to my blogging friend Dawn this morning, of Doing It For Ourselves in Wales, so I took some photos on the way.

Here is part of her smallholding, looking very neat and well-tended.

Larch changing colour in the Forest . . .

On the way back down our valley, the little waterfall was back in business.   Back in the summer it had dried to a trickle back in the summer as, despite it being cool and miserable, we really didn't have a lot of rain (until August that is!)

It was hurling itself down the steep hillside, and creating so much energy, and so many bubbles, and I couldn't resist a few photos.

This is the steep hillside it hurtles down.  It looks very gloomy on such a dull overcast day as this but back in the summer it is a mass of Foxgloves.

This is the lane ahead just past the waterfall.  I used to ride along here, but that seems so long ago now.

I mentioned books the other day.  This is bedtime reading - the one on the left just finished (and recommended if you haven't already read it) and the Devil's workshop is one of those can't put down books, set in Victorian London at the time of Jack the Ripper . . .

Above and below, last week's library books (to which my current bedtime reading also belongs). Plenty to keep me going for a while.

Finally, Dawn loaned this to me last week, but as it is full of excellent sock patterns, I thought I had better buy my own copy, so I've just bought one on Fleabay.

Today is a catch-up day in this house, so I had better get back to some more catching-up!

What a difference a day makes (well, two, to be precise)

If you look at my header photo, you will see what our beautiful River Cothi looked like 2 days ago.  I said it changed when we had rain - and yes, we have had rain.  It got like it is above literally overnight.  Compare with a photo below taken on 29th October.  Quite a difference, as it was like it was below just yesterday.

Once the river spreads over the rocks, it gets very wild and choppy indeed.

Here it is viewed from the bridge.  It has dropped about a foot since we drove across at lunchtime. Our neighbour will be keeping an eye on river levels I'm sure . . .

The speed of the water has to be seen to be believed.  If you fell in you'd be half way to Carmarthen with the clothes ripped off you before you realized what had happened.

More rocks to buck over.

The rocks I stood on the other day to take the header photograph are now under several feed of water.

This gully is just below the level of the road and cut into the bank by anglers  in the past, so they could more easily access a rock platform.  This, along with the drains along the lane, facilitate the transfer of water onto the lane and it is regularly closed over a wet winter.

Meanwhile I have finished three books in the last couple of days (details tomorrow) along with the Travelling Library arriving on Thursday with a good selection on board, so I am not short of reading matter.  What are you all reading at the moment?

A walk to clear my head

Some days the fates combine against you and nothing seems to go right.  After a lovely morning with friends, I had an afternoon like that!  I was feeling very down in the dumps, so took myself off for a walk down along by the river, camera in hand.

Beech leaves holding a wonderful red-brown colour.

The river has been fiercer after this week's rain and was hurtling itself towards Ferryside and the sea.

Down by the mill it always looks fiercest.

The bracken was such pretty colours - palomino and American tan, fading to champagne in places.

Looking back up the river valley from my favourite spot.

That rock will soon be under water and if the forecasts of further rain for the next four days or so, then this mossy outcrop of rocks may well be joining it by early next week.

The last few Red Campions are still holding there own as it is still mild.  I think those look like Meadowsweet leaves around them.

Amazingly a Foxglove has bravely flowered once more, having been cut down when the verges were cut in September.

Another view of the river, looking upstream.

Beautiful colours here on this shrub in a neighbour's garden.

I'm glad to say the walk straightened out my thoughts and I had a game-plan of what to do about a couple of things on my worry-list.

The crochet is now coming together (although, truth be told, it's not how I'd have planned it pattern-wise as there is a gap with a join in every row.  Hey-ho . . .)