Checking In

Autumn acer leaves

Six weeks have passed and I’ve thought so many times about digging out the laptop and tapping away on a blog post. But somehow I never quite find the time. Baby E is now 11 1/2 weeks old and although we’re getting more sleep time at night, she dominates the days. And so she should. She is just amazing.

But here I am. Tapping away whilst arms and legs flail in front of me. E is refusing to nap and instead is wiggling around on her tummy on my tummy, practising holding her little fluffy head up, cooing and laughing with twinkly blue eyes at something random on the wall behind me. I think she might be finding the light fitting funny. It’s usually a good 10 minutes’ worth of amusement each day, until she remembers she has hands and tries to stuff them into her mouth for the next half an hour.

Hogwarts shoes and Autumn leaves

Suffice to say, my good life-ing journey has been taking a little sabbatical whilst I navigate motherhood. There are days that are so busy, yet I lie in bed at night wondering what on earth I’ve actually done. To say that my Smallest Smallholding has been neglected is an understatement.

Veg and flower border

The borders are going over, looking a bit sad and neglected

But two days ago I had a mini victory when I managed to wheel E out in the garden in the pushchair, get her to settle and sleep whilst I raked barrow loads of autumnal leaves. I’ve got garlic and shallots waiting in the wings to be planted but that’s going to take some coordination, on a day when Rich isn’t working. Which is a rarity at the moment.

I’m doing small things in snatches and it’s helping me stay rooted and not get lost in nappies, muslins and milk. I’ve baked an apple tart and bought a small bag of compost to pot up the winter pansies and cyclamen for the back door.

Whether I get around to actually doing everything on my To Do List… well, that’s another story altogether.

Got to sign off, E is yelling and the leg action has kicked up a notch.

Woodland wandering

Woodland light

Sacred light in the woodland

“I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair…

– J.R.R. Tolkien

Last Sunday was a glorious day. Mum, Rich and I took ourselves out for an amble amongst the crisp autumn leaves, exploring our local Wildlife Trust site. The ancient woodland area is like a little secret, tucked away on a sandy ridge with unexpected heather heaths and dense gorse mixed with birch, beech and chestnut trees. It feels like taking a step back in time when we visit, like stepping into an alternative world that sits quietly next to our busy, modern and noisy one.

Woodland in autumn

It was lunchtime when we took our walk and the sun was already sinking in the sky. But the effect was startling and beautiful, as the ‘sacred light’ shone through the tangled boughs and rusty autumn leaves. Squirrels were still burying acorns below the rows of lime trees, which looked stoic and majestic in all their autumn glory.

Lime trees in autumn

These kinds of days are amongst my favourite sorts of days, along with the first truly warm days of spring. I just love experiencing the different seasons that we’re so fortunate to have here in England. Soon we’ll be enveloped in winter, when the garden goes to sleep and hours of daylight are even more precious.

For me, a wander in nature, when it’s at its most magnificent, is just the best kind of food for the soul.

A carpet of autumn leaves

Bertha the pumpkin

I didn’t have much joy with my munchkin pumpkins. Actually… scratch that. I didn’t have *any* joy with my munchkin pumpkins this year. I had visions of the tiny pumpkins merrily hanging from my arch amidst the fronds of Spanish flag flowers… but after a slow start and an (apparently) cooler summer, the fruits just withered and went soft.

Lucy, Tortoise the cat & Bertha the pumpkin

Lucy, Tortoise the cat & Bertha the pumpkin

Luckily all was not lost in the pumpkin department. Bertha the knucklehead pumpkin was romping away of her own accord. I’m not sure why I decided to give my pumpkin a name, and a gender. It just happens like that sometimes.

She grew well despite minimal attention from me – I unceremoniously shoved the pumpkin plant on an old compost site around June (I think) by the blackthorn hedging, and watered sporadically.

Knucklehead pumpkin growing in September

Knucklehead pumpkin

The vine scrambled and grew and grew, flowered when it was about 6 metres long, and grew more to about 10 metres, and Bertha was born.

Bertha my knucklehead pumpkin

Bertha my knucklehead pumpkin

I harvested Bertha at the weekend because my fingernail could no longer puncture the skin of the pumpkin, and the stem from which she was growing was rock hard. These are two great indications that pumpkins are ready to harvest, so I took a sharp knife and cut the cord, giving her plenty of stem to encourage a healthy cure process (where the skin hardens, goes orange and makes the pumpkins perfect for storing).

Tortoise is not so impressed...

Tortoise is not so impressed…

I was pretty pleased with Bertha. She’s not large by any stretch of the imagination, but I grew her from seed (thanks Marshalls Seeds) and she’s the biggest pumpkin I’ve grown in eight years of my journey to the good life. My previous record was an 8lb butternut squash. Bertha will be left to cure for now, and I’ve got visions of pumpkin pie and pumpkin soup next month. At the weekend I went to the Bromham Apple Day festival in Bedfordshire and bought a small pumpkin loaf, which was incredibly tasty! So now pumpkin bread is also on the menu too.

Knucklehead pumpkin