February

February, possibly the least liked month of the year. 

Despite the gloom, the mud and the insidious chill, I quite like it.

I love being able to see the bare contours of the land, the tracery of the trees, the bare fields.   

Winter walks through fields and along tracks mean that the dog and I will be squelching through mud and puddles.     Even so, there is something wonderfully exhilarating about being out in the cold, fresh air and pale sunshine, as long as you are wearing suitable clothing and footwear, of course!

Shadows and shade. 
Longer views, thanks to the lack of leaves, give surprising new glimpses of some favourite old places.


Learning the true lie of the land, sometimes so  different from how it appears when everywhere is dressed in summer finery.

Beautiful little glimpses.






Weak wintery sunshine adds a little warmth to the winter palette.

Countless snowdrops lift the gloom of the woodland floor.





Snowdrops will soon give way to the golden trumpets of daffodils.  They, in their turn, will make way for the haze of the bluebells and wild garlic.   









Home again, and the sunlight hits upon a cluster of crocuses, encouraging them to 'open wide'.

First job is to get rid of the mud from my boots, then comes the more time-consuming job of cleaning down the dog.

"Paddy-paw, paddy-paw.  Rub a dub a dub dub dub. Good boy!"

Hands washed, then on with the kettle for a good cup of tea. 

Bliss.

Soup is nearly always on the menu during winter.   Always home made, preferably served with a wedge of home made bread or a slice of quiche.

I make a large pot, normally sufficient to last three or four days.    Like most things, the flavours mellow and meld, so that the soup tastes even better, a couple of days later,  than it did on day one.


I made a very simple vegetable soup, nothing special, so I won't bother to give you the recipe.

This is a walnut and broccoli quiche - tasted much nicer than it looks, I promise.


The pastry recipe was a new one to me, using warm water and Marmite to mix...      I wasn't sure that it would work, but it turned out short and crisp, perfect and tasty. 

I will definitely be making it again.

Pastry:

175g (6oz) wholewheat plain flour
75g (3oz) Butter or Margarine
1 tsp Marmite yeast extract
Warm water to mix

Rub the fat into the flour, stir in the Marmite, then mix the pastry to a manageable dough using warm water.   Lightly knead on a floured surface, the roll out and use to line your tin.     Chill.         Bake blind for ten or fifteen minutes before adding the filling of your choice.

A Watermill and a Dovecote

Lincolnshire was bathed in sunshine today - it was hot and sunny and finally felt like summer.


I had been left at Parsonage Cottage, to wait for the delivery man - a rather large and heavy pack of sample floor tiles.  Delivery slot 10.30am-12.30pm,  I got the short straw and had to wait in for it.

By midday, I was free!    I abandoned housework, baking, ironing, etc and decided to take my camera and walk.

Just like the old days.

Down the lane, turn left, and this is what I saw.   The plants of the right are the enormous leaves of the Butterbur plant, bog rhubarb.   It was used in old medicine to treat the Bubonic plague.   These days I believe it is being used to alleviate migraines..

This wonderful old watermill is on the other side of the lane - an increasingly popular tourist attraction, deservedly.   Mike and Rebecca have worked hard to make it so.

A short walk up the hill and round the corner and these beauties were resting in the meadow, getting used to life outdoors.   The young ones were finding it difficult to stay awake in the hot sunshine, several of them had flaked out and were sleeping soundly.

Five or ten minutes later and this is the sight which greets me.   The beautiful dovecote is early 16th century single storey, octagonal and built in red brick.   It is a delightful landmark in the beautiful countryside around here.

I took a moment to stop by the church, whenever I pass this way I either mooch around the old gravestones, reading the inscriptions and saying the names of people long dead but today I popped into the church.   It is small, beautiful and very peaceful.  The whole church was scented beautifully by the simple vases of flowers on every windowsill.

Back down the hill, past the dovecote and on through the farmyard.   This is the dovecote as I looked back towards the tiny handful of houses which make up the village.

This is the path through a barley field which leads on to the 'main road' through our village.

Parsonage Cottage is away to the left, way off picture.

Home again, home again.  

I decided to knuckle down and do some work, so I got the lawnmower out and set to work.

Renovations as normal tomorrow!   I'll be painting the landing ceiling and bedroom 2's ceiling, then I will give the pillars in the livingroom their second coat.   No rest for the wicked.

xxx

The Old Schoolmistress Tells Tales

Little Bunting school was closed a few years ago.    

image borrowed from internet.

Mrs Read, who was the village schoolmistress,  lives directly opposite the old school yard gate.     She is well into her 80's now and still has the power to make grown men quake with just one look!

When we first moved to the village, almost a decade ago,  I noticed that, apart from a couple of  her contemporaries, people tended to give her a wide berth at village pub parties.    Of course, at the time I knew nothing at all about who she was, she was simply an elderly woman, sitting at a table nursing a port and lemon.

image borrowed from internet

I can't bear to see people in isolation, while a party is happening all around them, so I went over and began chatting with her.     Over the years we have gradually moved onto first name terms and have discovered that we both enjoy painting (she is far more skilled than I shall ever be) and various crafts.

She is also a mine of information when it comes to local history, particularly that of Dovecote Dell, a tiny hamlet across the fields from Little Bunting.    Her childhood home was a large manor house, now demolished, although the moat, dovecote and 16th century hall still remain and are located in the middle of a farmyard.

My daily walks talk me through the farmyard and I love to ponder on the history of the place.

Mrs Read and I were chatting the other day when she happened to mention that back in 1953 her wedding reception was held in the hall which is protected and listed, but now used as a barn.   I know it looks rather a messy patchwork, but those walls speak of so much history and change, I really like them.

For her wedding reception the hall was decorated,  straw bales were installed for seating, and a jolly time was had by all.

borrowed from the natural wedding co.

I'm hoping that Mrs Read may be able to find up a photograph or two, in which case (if she will permit) I'll share them with you.

Her mother used to tell people that clearing up afterwards took minimal work because they simply let the hens in to eat the leftovers.



Old age is relative and I'm sure that I appear even older than Mrs Read did to me, but at village parties I am extremely fortunate, for the two best-looking and interesting young men (who live in Dovecote Dell) are kind enough to come and chat to me.   I'm not complaining!   ;-)