Blooms in the Pigeon Proof Pen

At last! a post about Purple Podded Peas . . .

This morning two of the pea varieties growing flourishing in the Pigeon Proof Pen, have their first flowers . . . and what beauties they are! Proving that growing heritage peas is not just for the shelled peas, it's also about the beauty of the plant, the pods and the flowers.

Let me introduce you to . . .

Curruthers' Purple Podded

Well, just look at the deep colour of the wings! the intricate veining on the standards!

For me, not the most productive of peas (although that may have been down to pigeon attacks in the past) but supposedly one of the best purple-poddeds for flavour. I see Curruthers as a polite, elegantly attired, gentleman gardener. My seeds were originally from a swap with Rebsie, you can read her expert review of Curruthers here.

Robinson

I don't just grow peas with purple pods . . . Robinson is a green podded pea and my selection this year from the Heritage Seed Library. The donor of the seeds had acquired them from a Mr Robinson, who had got them from somewhere in Scotland. The HSL catalogue describes Robinson as being vigorous and a favourite amongst exhibitors for their long, slim, slightly curved pods produced over a long season. The peas are reputed to be "extraordinarily sweet" . . . I'm looking forward to tasting them and if I'm impressed I'll save seed to grow lots next year.

As you can see in the photo, its flowers are white with beautiful green shading and a very attractive shape . . . I think Mr Robinson is a very handsome chap indeed!


More reports for the Pigeon Proof Pen soon,
Celia
xx

The mystery egg

I have just checked the nest boxes in the henhouse, this tiny khaki dark speckled egg was in the very back corner of the nest, I moved it closer to the other Holly and Ivy's eggs for the photo so you can compare size and colour.
I wonder which hen laid it . . . If indeed it was one of the hens and not another bird using this as its nest box!

I'll wait to see which hens don't lay today . . . my guess is that it could possibly be Ginger-Spice's egg, she hasn't laid for many many months but often sits in the nest. She used to lay large blunt ended sage green coloured eggs. I wonder? What do you think?

PS: my friends at Linton Kitchen think it is a pheasants egg, because it is just like the ones they sell in their lovely shop! Gosh... could it be? Will she be back to lay more?

PPS: the egg is so small, I now think it it very unlikely to be a pheasant's egg... veering back to thinking Ginger-Spice laid a random tiny egg.

The shingle will hide the secrets

Very early on Saturday morning Cliff and I drove to the coast, although we live in Suffolk it's a 2 hour journey zig-zagging eastwards to the far edge of the county. Months back we had booked to go on a tour of Orford Ness, we'd never been before. We hadn't payed much attention to what we were signing up for . . . and that turned out to be THE tour for 20th century military history enthusiasts!

For most of the 20th Century (1913 to 1993 to be precise) the 16 kilometre long shingle spit that hugs the coast of Suffolk just south of Aldeburgh, was the top secret research site for everything from the first forays into air warfare, parachutes and aerial photography through to testing the aerodynamics of the UK's atomic bombs and at the height of the Cold War the huge array of aerials of 'Cobra Mist' secretly eavesdropped on the Soviet Block. If this is your thing, read more here.

Luckily for me the sign above no longer applied! It was a grey day and there was a cold wind blowing off the North Sea, I settled for taking photographs rather than sitting on the shingle freezing sketching.

Orford Ness is now owned by the National Trust, the shingle spit is a nature reserve of international importance . . . you may have seen it featured on the BBC Springwatch (watch Richard Taylor-Jones stunning film here start at 31mins in, available until Thursday 20 June 2013). I found the juxtaposition of the mysterious architecture and the encroaching shingle and plants, fascinating.

Inside the buildings, while our amazingly knowledgeable guide talked of boffins (and apparently the word was first ever used to describe one of the top researchers in these very buildings!) I searched out textures and geometric shapes in the decaying laboratories.

Glassless windows framed views across the vast expanse of shingle . . . much of it still out of bounds because of the danger of unexploded ordnance.

The next chapter in the story of Orford Ness will be about the plants and wildlife that are now the only inhabitants (apart from the day visitors that come across by boat from the mainland) and gradually they will hide the secrets for ever.

On the seaward side of the Ness stands a lighthouse  –

Trinity House have made the decision that in these days of satellite navigation, lighthouses are no longer required the light will be turned off in a few days time and it will be left to the mercy of the North Sea which is eating back the coast at a rate of 5 metres a year.

Eventually it will collapse onto the shingle and be smashed apart by the waves.

You can see more of my photos of Orford Ness here:
the buildings
the windows
the textures
the plants

I hope to go back to explore again soon... and hopefully see more of the birds and hares.

Celia
x

The Hen-wife's Tale

. . . Chanticleer Cheep stood high upon his toes, 

Stretching his neck, and both his eyes did close, 

And so did crow right loudly, for the nonce; 

And Russel Fox, he started up at once, 

And by the gorget grabbed our Chanticleer Cheep, 

Flung him on back, and toward the wood did steer . . .

This simple widow and her daughters two We

heard these hens cry and make so great ado, 

And out of doors they started on the run 

And saw the fox into the grove just gone, 

Bearing upon his back the cock away. 

And then they cried, "Alas, and weladay! 

Oh, oh, the fox!" and after him they ran.

This cock, which lay across the fox's back, 

In all his fear unto the fox did clack 

And say: "Sir, were I you, as I should be, 

Then would I say (as God may now help me!), 

'Turn back again, presumptuous peasants all! 

A very pestilence upon you fall! 

Now that I've gained here to this dark wood's side, 

In spite of you this cock shall here abide. 

I'll eat him, by my faith, and that anon!'" 

The fox replied: "In faith, it shall be done!" 

And as he spoke that word, all suddenly 

This cock broke from his mouth, full cleverly.

And that (with apologies to Geoffrey Chaucer) is more or less what happened on Monday evening when Cheep was grabbed by a fox and miraculously escaped with a scratch and rather less feathers than he had earlier in the day.

Unfortunately our relief at Cheep's miraculous escape from the jaws of death, turned to sadness when, on Wednesday, I discovered that Bryony was missing . . . presumed taken to be Russel Fox's supper.

Of the three new pullets we got last October, I think Bryony was my favourite. She was bossy and annoying (especially when she spent three weeks insisting she was broody!)

We will miss her, I think Cheep misses her, and this weekend for the last time we will enjoy her final beautiful dark brown egg.

Celia

xx