greenhouse shame

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This was going to be a boring post about TAX and ebooks, but I’ll save that until I have made a call to the US tax authorities.

In April I was putting up photos of my wonderful new greenhouse. Soon after this I started planting seeds like fury. I decided to try and use up all my old seeds (some very ancient indeed). After an anxious week or so a few little seedlings made an appearance in a couple of trays, but I didn’t really know when to take the lids of the propagators and one lot damped off. The others died on the very hot day we went into town forgetting to open the greenhouse ventilators. Absolutely nothing appeared in the other trays.

I tried again with fresher seed but had similar results. So my total greenhouse haul this year so far is four weeds, DSCN5900

the sweet pepper a friend gave me, DSCN5901

and behind that one of the two tomatoes I managed to grow, DSCN5899the other is in the vegetable patch. I did manage to grow a pot full of purple sprouting broccoli and that is in the veg bed along with some direct sown leeks, carrots etc, but still, it’s embarrassing.

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The good thing about gardens is that there is always another season and something else to admire. I rather like this last glimpse of the sun. DSCN6034 - Version 2The lilies are trying to make up for other failures,

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and the giant host is flowering madly.

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Thrilling post about tax coming in the next few days.

Musical joie de vivre in Peasmarsh and bonus

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We have just had one of those rare experiences – a mini holiday that exceeds all expectations. From the moment we arrived for a two day visit to old friends (plus two days in London afterwards), life, which was OK, became sublime.

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The weather helped as we sat out long into the evening, after a great meal, just talking. The following day we relaxed yet further. I had forgotten deck chairs even existed. We were able to catch up on tasks, ask advice for vexed questions (such as book covers), and forget briefly the list of things undone that are never absent at home.  DSCN5906

Later we visited the astonishing gardens of Great Dixter. The ultimate challenge to the tidy or colour-match-obsessed gardener.

DSCN5955In the evening we arrived at the Church of St Peter & St Paul, Peasmarsh for the last concert in the Peasmarsh Chamber Music Festival http://www.peasmarshfestival.co.uk. We picnicked in the churchyard on delicious foods made by our friends, then went into the church for a Brahms violin Concerto, some exquisitely played Debussy and, after an interval, a Schumann quintet.

The church is tiny, the dais for the musicians, already accommodating the Steinway Grand, is tiny and we had front row seats (click on the link above to see rolling photos of the church and dais). The cello was less than two feet in front of me. I have never, never, experienced such a powerful, energetic musical rendition. Each performer was at their peak in this final piece of their final festival concert. Their joie de vivre was quite extraordinary.

The players were international: Anthony Marwood (violin), Richard Lester (cello), Magnus Johnston (violin), Benedetto Lupo (piano), CarlaMaria Rodrigues (viola); the venue a tiny parish church in a small village in East Sussex; the effect an astonishing musical experience and a privilege.

Then back with our friends to their wonderful garden.DSCN5913 DSCN5914 DSCN5925

Dead bumblebees update and some buds

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In the last week we have not seen any dead bumble bees, but a couple of days ago I noticed some that were distressed, but alive, on our drive fence.
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Yesterday my husband came in asked why one part of our drive was covered in dead bees.
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We recovered 12 in all.
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Feeling really concerned we found the Bumblebee Conservation Trust online http://bumblebeeconservation.org/about-bees/faqs/finding-dead-bees/ There we found an explanation for our dead bees. There is a lime tree overhanging our drive and for reasons not well understood (go to the link) bumblebees keep feeding on the lime tree nectar even when it is low. They run out of energy and die. Apparently honey bees aren’t quite so foolish.

It seems, also, that finding dead bumblebees generally is not necessarily a bad a sign (so long as the numbers are not too great). Perhaps, taking the hopeful view, we have seen more because we are growing more bee-friendly plants. This hope doesn’t, sadly, apply to the plight of honey bees, whose numbers are still in free-fall.

I am incurably excited by buds – especially on plants that are new in the garden. This is (our new) peony lactiflora Solange which will be cream flushed amber/salmon pink.DSCN5849

This is Rhododendron Crassum – supposedly scented. We have had it for seven years. It has been cut back by frosts, failed to produce buds, or the buds have failed, but I think we are going to see something at last.DSCN5837

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And here’s a peony that has finally opened after sulking for several years. Name?
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And finally a newcomer that has thrilled me, Rosa Wollerton Old Hall, with a light scent of myrrh. I could almost eat it for breakfast.

Rosa Wollerton Old Hall

Rosa Wollerton Old Hall

Threadgold Press, bees and a hornet

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Threadgold Press logo

Threadgold Press logo

M-R, you asked what Threadgold Press is. Well, in 2002 I had my first novel published by a stupendously chaotic one-man independent publisher (he had a colleague, but she resigned). So with my second novel, after I had  tallied up a few rejection slips, I became a (fairly chaotic) publisher myself. Threadgold Press is a small thing, but mine own. You can be a publisher by giving yourself a name, and applying for ISBN’s, jumping through a whole load of hoops and publishing a book. I published Unseen Unsung (Hilary Custance Green) in 2008, I’ve sold around 400 copies, and reckon I have broken even. Amazon.co.uk currently offers 7 copies (used) for .01p and 1 (new) for £999. Uh? (I won’t see a penny from these either way).

On a different (more important) subject, I am deeply worried that I cannot go into the garden without stumbling over a dead bee. These are usually smaller bumble bees and I see one or two most days. Is anyone else finding these? We don’t use pesticides.

One the upside, a few days ago, my husband called from the glass area near the back door. He had heard what he described as a four-engine job. An enormous fat golden stripey hornet was bombing around in there. It looked magnificent and sort of new-born, metallic shiny; it also sounded very fed up. Sadly, I do not have a picture. I love bees, wasps, spiders etc but I’m an all-out wuss when it comes to hornets. I gazed in admiration from a distance as my husband wielded the butterfly nets we keep for such events. I am now steeling myself to look into the loft (not my husband’s territory). I saw a big ‘something’ flying around near the eaves and then popping in.

Funnier, sadder and more engaging – Rosenkavalier

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Last night we had the immense privilege of being guests at Glyndebourne Opera House (http://glyndebourne.com) and, for a wonder, the weather was perfect too. (For friends across the world I should mention that Glyndebourne is a top-level, top-quality opera house set in the middle of rural English countryside, where it is traditional to picnic during the long interval, in full evening dress, in the beautiful grounds. Sorry, only a few old photos, as most of mine have identifiable people in them.).

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The opera, Der Rosenkavalier, Richard Strauss, walks a tricky tightrope between tragedy and comedy. It is usually played glamourous, melancholy and decadent, as the beautiful, older aristocratic woman courageously relinquishes her youthful lover to a younger woman, interrupted by the boorish antics of the suitor to the younger woman, usually a caricature elderly buffoon.

Last night’s production by Richard Jones shakes up this tradition. The costumes bounce between 18th and 20th century and the direction is equally bewildering. In the first interval I overheard opera-goers complaining. Yet somehow this weird take on the story drags the tragedy and comedy face-to-face. This results in a funnier, sadder and more engaging story. By the end of the opera, the audience were stomping and clapping enthusiastically.

Musically, I heard no doubts expressed. The singers, orchestra and conductor were sublime. Personally, as an unashamed lover of the Italian Romantic repertoire, I find the long, soaring lines of Strauss a little like being force-fed meringues, but this production, by pulling the dramatic threads together, has brought me closer to appreciating the music.

I don’t have a silver rose to hand, but this allium shubertii after a rainstorm has a silvery look to it.

allium Shubertii

allium Shubertii

As we drove home after the opera, the sky was pretty dramatic too.
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Fitz… and a frog

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Many years ago I met an author (and brilliant photographer), Jenifer Roberts, at The Society of Authors (UK) and we exchanged addresses. A year or so later I received a flyer for her book Glass

. I bought a copy, loved it, and we became friends. We self-published our second books at the same time, though hers, The Madness of Queen Maria, was later taken up by a mainstream publisher in Portugal.  It is with enormous pride that I can report on the success of her latest book, Fitz. I can remember the beginnings of Fitz, the enormous lengths to which Jenifer went in researching this book, the endless drafts and improvements and the long cycle of agents and publishers who said… great writing, terrific story, but we are not sure it has a market… or similar. Well, after years of work and waiting it has found its natural home in New Zealand. The New Zealand Listener (see below) says of it “…This is history as it should be, alert, well-observed and informed…” about this man who was an “…infuriatingly mercurial personality but eminently loveable man.”

listener review 4

It is also in the top ten New Zealand non-fiction best seller lists. I can vouch for this as a great and entertaining read. Jenifer has set a brilliant example for aspiring writers and I am so happy to see this story reach the public it deserves.

Now for something completely different. We live (I say, as the rain it raineth ev-ery day) in a very dry area of the UK, and we have no pond and no obvious ground level source of water, yet every year I meet at least one frog in the garden. I don’t meet him/her in one particular damp spot, but anywhere in the third of an acre that is ours. So, there must be quite a few frogs living here. This is the best I could do in the way of a photo – he is in there – honestly.

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Titles, covers and how to get it wrong.

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I am in the process of self publishing a novel. This has the title Border Line, which should (I hope) give rise to thoughts about the borders of a country, the edges of sanity and the distance between of success and failure.

I am setting the text using InDesign, but as I can’t afford Photoshop to do the cover work, I  downloaded the free illustration software, Gimp. In order to familiarise myself with the basics I knocked up a random cover by grabbing a recent photo and putting in some text in a couple of colours. Feeling quite pleased with myself for getting this far, I emailed the result to a friend and my husband…

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… to whom it is obvious that I have written a book on gardening – How to Keep Your Border in Line!

A few days before this effort, I mocked up some simple photo and text covers in InDesign, and printed these off (along with one professional) one to show to a group of friends. I asked them which ones(s) they would pick up and turn over to read the blurb. Several unerringly picked the professional one (a lovely image, but not related to the story). They then made clear that what mattered to them, apart from the cover’s initial attraction, was that it should be relevant to the story. Nothing seemed to irritate more than a misleading image (which, as I feared, counts out the lovely image).

Does the relevance of the cover image matter to you? Here is a pdf of the covers, if anyone feels like spotting the professional one.

cover tests

 

Monster Hosta

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A couple of years or so ago the plant in the corner outside our kitchen window died. The area was mostly shady and tended to get dripped on from the gutter above, so to fill it quickly we bought a healthy-looking hosta. It grew and grew and we kept moving it further out from the corner. By July last year this host was taking over and almost meeting a nearby rhododendron.

Hosta Sum and Substance

Hosta Sum and Substance

So in January we moved the rhododendron and paved a whole new section (https://greenwritingroom.com/2014/02/26/the-garden-moves/). Meanwhile the tub looked all small and innocent.
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Then a few cracks appeared on the surface and great spikes broke through. After a week or so we had this.
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I thought we had been exaggerating the space it needed. Then it expanded a bit.

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And a bit more.

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I began to move the tub out a little further each day.DSCN5772 DSCN5782 DSCN5786

We may have to move out of the kitchen next; it is certainly planning to move in through the window.

Rhododendron Interlude

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As I shall be spending time with our current visitor, I shall be mostly away from my computer for a few days. In honour of the fact that this visitor has already spent an hour dead-heading rhododendrons. Here are some of the culprits.

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Cupcake

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Cupcake

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Flava

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Flava

Rhododendron Yakushimanum

Rhododendron Yakushimanum

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Percy Wiseman

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Percy Wiseman

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Morgenrot

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Morgenrot

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Edelweiss

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Edelweiss

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Titian Beauty

Rhododendron Yakushimanum Titian Beauty

Rhododendron

Rhododendron ? (the pink one), Acer Palmatum Trompenburg

My irregular heart and a random spider

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This morning I was searching for a file and came across an old poem of sorts. I read it and felt again when I had felt then. I am happy to publish prose, but I find myself very reluctant to put up a poem. So, in the interests of overcoming this anxiety, here it is. (For non-lovers of half-baked poetry there is a photo below of a charming spider I saw the other day. Name?)

My Irregular Heart

You’re eighteen now,
old enough to give blood, my father said.
So I did.
In some years lovers delayed me,
or babies distracted me,
or illness prevented me.
Still, pint by pint I shared a little of myself
and always felt better as I left.

Today the nurse spoke kindly,
we can’t take your blood anymore,
I’m so sorry, but
‘Heart, irregular’ is on our list.
You’ve done well –
forty-seven donations,
I’m sorry you did not reach your fifty.

So I walked my irregular heart
out of the building,
and took it home to contemplate
no longer contributing,
no longer belonging to the giving population.
I have walked to the other side of the equation
And found there,
an unexpected sense of loss.

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