Bluebells And Other Matters

No Portglenone bluebells for me this year, instead of the blue carpeted forest, just this tiny little patch of bluebells a field length from our house.

Portglenone

The field across the road

We had a small loss this week. A pair of robins had a nest in the polytunnel, built inside a flowerpot that lay on its side on a potting bench. Bert had arranged other pots around it so that it would be difficult for cats to get near. If we were quiet and still we'd see the robins carry food to the hatchlings. I hadn't looked but Bert had peeked and reported two young ones. A couple of days ago the parents stopped coming and when Bert checked the nest was empty. The other pots hadn't been moved so it might have been raided by a rat. The robins will have to try again.

I didn't watch Mr Johnson's broadcast to the nation last night but reading online reports this morning it seems not to have gone down too well. Apparently, we are to trust in good, solid British common sense. Speaking for myself, I'd prefer some good, solid leadership.

Bluebells

Well. Anyway. I must be feeling in much better form because I'm considering myriad and multitudinous blessings which I will instil into just one word  - bluebells.

Bluebells come just once a year, in the month of May, give or take ten days or so. Martha, Evie and I (and Ziggy and Maya) went to Portglenone Forest today. There was something new to be explored, an old burying ground right beside the forest. I'd never visited it before.

Evie was really delighted to see that Mr Ladybird (Mr?) was still hanging about since her last visit.

Always there are white sports in a bluebell field.

Bluebells and forget-me-nots, wondrous combination.

There is a gate that leads to Portglenone Forest. We explored then returned via the graveyard. On our way back, we met a young woman photographing the bluebells. I said to her, at the top of this path there is a glorious old graveyard smothered in bluebells and forget-me-mots. She followed us there. Thanked us. And took pictures.

Blessings, a lovely Spring day, Martha and Evie, bluebells, forget-me-nots and sharing with a fellow photographer.

The Best Day Of My Life

Today was family gardening day and it was Martha and Evie's Dad's turn to choose the dinner menu.

Pulled pork, sourdough loaf, and lemon meringue pie.

It was a very slow and easy process.

Saturday afternoon - shop for ingredients.
Saturday night - assemble sourdough starter.
Sunday afternoon - I was going to bake blind the pastry case for the lemon meringue pie but gardened instead.
Sunday evening - mixed sourdough, kneaded (using the dough hook on Kenwood) and left to rise.
Monday morning - assembled ingredients for pulled pork and put it all in the slow cooker. This was going to cook all day. Make and bake the pastry case. Leave to cool. Turn oven up and bake the sourdough loaf for 30 minutes. Make lemon meringue filling, cool, turn oven to low, make meringue topping and bake. All done except salad.

Monday afternoon - family arrives.

The girls and I went shopping for last minute milk, butter, cream and ice lollies. It was a very pleasant day and Martha suggests a walk so we strolled round to take a close look at the strange wooden sculpture that has appeared on the river bank.

Martha wants that we continue our walk on the river path as we have their dog with us and "Gracie would really love a walk because there's no point her hanging around the kitchen with you Granny because all the cooking is done and she won't be getting any titbits."

I agreed that this would be an excellent idea. The river path was crowded with people and dogs. And why wouldn't it be on such a beautiful May Day holiday? We climbed up the steep bank beside the path and followed another little pathway that wended its way through a sea of bluebells, wood anemones and the beginnings of wild garlic. It was like another world. A fairyland. An adventure. The girls loved it and so did I. Here and there trees had fallen over the little path and while the girls clambered over these obstacles with ease, they presented a bit of a challenge for me. Oh, to be young and limber again.

We rejoined the main path and went off to see the horses and donkey. Martha asked me if I was having a good time and I answered her that I was having the best day of my life. I think that was a very honest answer. But it was time to head for home. There was a salad to prepare and dairy products sitting in a very warm van. I reached into my pocket for my key and it wasn't there. Panic! Had I left it in the van? Of course I hadn't. The van was tightly locked and my key was nowhere to be seen and I didn't feel up to retracing our footsteps with the girls in tow. Evie was already starting to tire. No phone, no money, no vehicle. We went to the garage and borrowed their phone. No one at home! All out in the garden making potato rigs, strawberry beds and so on. Victor sorted the girls out with some much-needed water and we set off walking home. Normally a twenty-minute walk it was going to take twice that with Evie unable to walk that fast. We were halfway up the road when our rescuer appeared. The girl's dad off on an errand to pick Hannah up. We told him what had happened, gathered Hannah up and then at everyone's insistence stopped by the river path to go key hunting. I checked the local shop to see if anyone had handed the keys in but no luck so I hurried off to catch up with the search party. They were (I could hear the girls chattering) up on the high path and as I went towards them I heard excited whoops and looking up, saw them all trooping back towards the car park.  I knew then that their mission had been successful. It was a lovely moment in which we all played a part.

Dave who was calm, sensible and practical.
Martha and Evie who remembered exactly where I had walked and what I had done.
Hannah who was enthusiastic and said, "I'm very good at finding things" and who found the keys lying hidden in a patch of wild garlic at the very spot where I had clambered awkwardly over a fallen tree.
And myself, the very reason why we were all so bloody happy. For I was the silly sausage who had lost the keys in the first place.

So there you go -  the best day of my life was still the best day of my life even though there was a big problem right slap-bang in the middle of it.

Other good things that happened (1) dinner turned out well and (2) I had my first ride on the quad while we were looking for a lost pig. It was scary and fun and we found the pig.

I didn't bring a camera but there were bluebells and there was Gracie so here is one Zoe took earlier.

Gracie, the bouncing bluebell girl. Photograph by Zoe Bowyer

We Go To The Bann

Judy writes...

Moms said to Hans, shall we go to Portglenone Forest, check the bluebells? I'm sure the dogs would enjoy the walk. My ears pricked up. Whenever did a dog not enjoy a walk? And Portglenone is particularly good. Lots of other dogs. Lots of pungent smells. Lots of sticks. And the river.

First of, I found a ball. Hans threw it into the river, stupid Jess got it and lost it. I looked everywhere but it was gone. Gone forever. I was gutted. Meanwhile Hans starts throwing sticks. Jess was in like Flynn but I wanted my ball. No joy. Gone forever. I loved that ball. Only had it for two minutes but it mattered to me.

Winning

Ah well. Sticks it is then. I'm a far stronger swimmer than Jess. Beat her by a mile. Ziggy the wimp wouldn't go in any farther than his knees and, as we all know, that's not very far.

Then disaster struck. That rotten sneaky wee bitch mugged me. Snatched my prize right out of my jaws. I was gutted.

This was turning out to be a rotten day. That thieving, smug wee shit was grinning all over her face.

Thought she was so bloody smart. I've never been so upset in my entire life. This was worse than that time Rusty tossed me up in the air. And it got even worse. Moms made me and Smug Face sit in the back of the van on the way home while Wimp Face Ziggy got to sit in the front. She said it was because we were wet. Moral being if you are a cowardy custard like the Zigster and barely dampen your paws you'll be sitting up front in luxury while good dogs (well, one good dog and one filthy cheating rat bag dog) have to rattle about in the back.

As soon as I got home I told Dawds all about my rotten day and he was very kind to me and let me go to sleep on him. I'm sure I'll feel a lot better when I wake up.

The End.