The roses are here

I have been watching hopefully,

 and counting buds eagerly,

 and excitedly anticipating

 the roses blooming in my garden this year.

And now they are here!

These are the first snippings for this season. It is a DA rose named The Ancient Mariner. 

And it smells as exquisite as it looks.

Kate  x

April showers

If April showers do indeed bring May flowers, the west country should resemble a flower farm come next month. So far April has been a soggy wash out, which feels doubly unfair seeing as March was punctuated by unseasonably cold temperatures and multiple snowfalls.

Despite a slow start, my garden is finally blooming with life. The daffodils and narcissus are opening their cheery smiling faces. An overgrown forsythia has burst with bright sunshine yellow blossom. The flowering currant is heavy with flowers as well as raindrops. And my tulips are not far behind.

But the mud!!! The mud is never ending. Oh, what i'd give for a lovely boot room to contain wet coats and muddy wellies in...

Even a porch would suffice. Unfortunately for my floors, we step straight from outdoors into the kitchen in our home. With no where dry or covered to remove shoes and coats other than the kitchen, it has been quite a long winter trying to keep the floors clean. I shouldn't moan. I wouldn't swap countryside living for (almost) anything. I adore being able to pull on wellies and seconds later be stomping through the woodland or splashing up the lane to get eggs at the farm gate. 

Mud is simply a close companion to country life. 

I know this very well. 

Now. 

But the first time after we moved here and my new friend asked if I wanted to go for a walk, I stupidly pulled on my active wear and laced up my trainers. I really did think she would be similarly attired. Moments before she arrived at my front door I came to my senses and changed into jeans & wellies. Context is everything. I wasn't going for walks around the leafy suburban streets of the lower north shore in Sydney anymore. No! The paths I now walked were made entirely of mud. A couple of minutes later she knocked on my front door wearing Le Cheameau's and I knew I'd come very close to looking like a clueless townie playing at country pursuits.

Jeans + wool jumper + wellies. 

That's my uniform now. Such is living in the English countryside.

Kate  x

A walk around the village on the summer solstice

It was a relatively hot summer solstice on Wednesday. As an Aussie, I can't in all honesty say 32 degrees is very hot, because memories of 40+ degree summer days are burnt (pun very much intended) into my memory. That horrific day a few January's ago, where I walked out of work and into a 45 degree day to catch a non air-conditioned train home, will stay in my memory forever... That was a stifling summer all over Australia. If you're a weather enthusiast, stats can be seen HERE.

Nevertheless, I'll jump on board the Brits-moaning-about-the-weather bandwagon and concede it was quite a warm, sunny spell for England. Still, I wasn't going to let the glorious, albeit sweaty, solstice sunshine keep me indoors. I slipped into a linen sun dress, grabbed my camera and took a late evening wander around the village to capture some photographic memories of my first summer solstice in Britain.

June has been all about roses in the village. In just about every direction you look, you will see a rose. Climber, rambler, shrub, David Austin, they're blooming and beautiful.

This vivid pink rose is such a vibrant burst of colour on an otherwise uniform honey-stone coloured canvas. That is the Norman church tower of St Andrew's, Castle Combe. Often when I'm outside in the garden, and the breeze is blowing in the right direction I can hear it chime out at 3 minutes past the hour. I'm not sure if it's late, or my clock is running fast. It is a lovely sound no matter, a constant reminder of this rural village idyll I've somehow found myself living amongst.

This farm building at Upper Castle Combe was bathed in the most golden light. It is currently dripping with summer roses. It seemed so apt that on the summer solstice, it was in full flush and aglow with golden hour light. A fertile and abundant representation of the summer season.

I was sticky by the end of my walk, but frankly it was so nice to be able to be outside in the late evening air in just a sun dress and sandals, even if it did mean a cool shower for the third time that day. 

I know the passing of the solstice signals a slow slide back towards shorter days, but there is still so much summer to enjoy. The brambles are just emerging in the hedgerows, apple trees are beginning to fruit, the trout in the brook are fattening, and the fields are abuzz with the predictable seasonal rhythm of farm machinery as it frenetically slashes, harvests, bales and ploughs the countryside before the inevitable rains return .

Kate  x

On the cusp of summer

I feel this week signals the tipping point from spring to summer around here. Though, I might retract this statement when the week-long rain that is forecast for next week arrives.The air is very warm, and it smells of grass and moisture, in the way that early summer always does. 

27 C is our predicted high today. I am making the most of the clear and warm days by drying a few loads of washing, opening all the windows and the French doors, as well as walking barefoot around our courtyard garden to admire the English lavender I just planted. I have plans for lavender ice cream, and almond & lavender cake too. Dining al fresco is on the cards. Lemon-spiked G&Ts are already a regular occurrence. 

The garden is in a little lull- the blossoms and bulbs of spring have long faded- but the summer blooms haven't quite arrived yet. The honeysuckle and climbing rose at the front of the cottage will burst very soon. As will the elderflower tree at the bottom of the garden. I have tall spires putting out as-yet mystery flower heads. I think they'll be larkspur. But they might be delphinium. It's a waiting game.

Mr Red-breasted Robin is giving himself afternoon dust baths below his beloved hawthorn tree. He's rather flighty. I try to photograph him, but he's very shy and much too fast. I'm hoping if I start putting seed out he'll allow me to make friends with him.

In late March I sowed a box of 'mixed blue garden' flower seeds. Who knows what was actually in it, but the seedlings are pushing up at quite a rate now. I'm hoping there will be forget-me-nots and cornflowers in there somewhere. 

Kate  x 

The law of attraction

I'm not sure I buy into the idea that simply imagining your wants and desires will bring them to fruition in reality.

But weirdly, in a round about sort of way, I think I might have imagined us into this very village we now call home. Or, I might be clutching at straws.

Last year on my birthday, January 12th, Alex took me to dinner at Jamie's Italian and told me his boss wanted him to take on the task of expanding the UK office of the company, and how would I feel about moving to England for a few years. My gut reaction was 50% "I've been waiting my whole life to live in England" and 50% "No! I have just signed up to do my masters degree, moving will make completing it messy and difficult, and I want to just buy a cottage in the Southern Highlands and never have to move again. We've moved enough!"

So, for about a month I said an emphatic, No! But it niggled at me. I was saying no to something I had spent a long time wanting to experience, I just hadn't been brave enough to make happen under my own steam.

A couple of weeks later, sometime in late January, I mindlessly posted this image on my tumblr. Then promptly forgot about it. I had no idea what the image was of, where it might be capturing, or really that it was even somewhere I'd ever want to live. I just liked the image.

Helena Bernald Photography

A gorgeous scene, isn't it?

I was scrolling through my tumblr archive the other week and I was stopped in my tracks when I saw this image. It is in fact the village we now live in. I recognised this view instantly. It is the view we get each and every time we drive into our village. 

Strange, huh?

Here is a photograph of the village, taken by me at golden hour a month or so ago. A different perspective, but equally gorgeous.

We are quite at home with village life. We love wandering along the street to our two local pubs, going for walks in the surrounding woodland, foraging spring greens from the roadsides and undergrowth, and photographing picture postcard perfect scenes, all the while pinching ourselves. 

The law of attraction at work, or just plain coincidence?

I guess that depends on who you ask.

Kate  x

Now, I wonder if that questionable dream I had the other night about me and the Harrison Ford lookalike on a submarine will become reality too? Not sure I'd actually cope very well on a submarine...

Snail snacks

The village and surrounding woodlands are well and truly blooming. We've had a recent cold snap (a tiny frost on the car one morning too), but the warmth of early April brought many flowers with it. I don't think we'll be lighting the fire anytime soon.

The roadsides are flagged by cow parsley and dandelions, the woodland is carpeted in wild garlic and bluebells, and our garden is brimming with gorse, blue and whitebells, and lily of the valley. A plump little red breasted robin sings most days from his perch in the hawthorn, and sparrows dart around our outdoor table eating the bread I put out for them.

There are tiny seedlings popping up, and the vines covering the front of our cottage are unfurling and beginning to bud. These are all signs of new, and as yet unidentified, life. Until they make themselves known, I was going to leave the lily of the valley flowering in the garden so that there would be some pretty things to look at when I pad outside, barefoot, with my cup of tea. In the end I snipped them and brought them inside to sit on my nightstand. A selfless act, actually, because they were being mercilessly munched by snails. I think it would have been an altogether bigger crop of lily of the valley had it not been for the snails. A lot of the new tender leaves were gobbled up and damaged beyond hope earlier in the season.

A small posy was all I got. Still, better me than the snails.

We are eagerly watching and waiting for the wisteria to bloom and cover the village in cascades of purple. It seems very slow to begin flowering here in the south west. London and the east seems to be awash with wisteria hysteria already. I know it will be worth the wait though.

Until then I'll enjoy my tiny posy of lily of the valley with a scent that defies its delicate size.

Kate  x

Blue eggs and bluebells

Spring is really making its presence felt now. Yesterday we had a top of twenty degrees. I managed to dry a load of washing outside in one afternoon. These 'little' things are still things to rejoice in. I can see the wild woodland garlic beginning to push up their flower heads. There is constant birdsong, even at 9pm. The bluebells have appeared, seemingly overnight. Magnolia trees are aburst. And one or two gangly heron sit next to the brook quite often, soaking up the afternoon sunshine.

Blue eggs seemed appropriate for the new season, and the beginning of all things Easter. I bought a half dozen of blue and a half dozen of white. The blue came in such a beautiful range of hues. Some much more green than blue, and others the perfect shade of 'duck egg blue'.

I know I should leave the bluebells in the garden for the bees. But they are such a wonderful sight for me, being my first English spring and all. I snipped a couple to put on my nightstand. In any case, over the weekend I sowed a box full of mixed 'blue garden' flower seeds for me the bees. I'm hoping for cornflowers and forget-me-nots to pop their heads up come summer time, but it is such a lucky-dip box of seeds, we'll have to wait and see.

Kate  x

Thoughts on nesting

I am a nester through and through. There's no place I would rather be than at home, pottering, and fluffing my nest. So, after a little over five months of nomadic-like living since moving to England, I am bursting at the seams at the thought of finally moving into a little Cotswold cottage to call home for a while. There's still a week to go, but I can just about hear those keys jangling in the lock. For the months we've been waiting for this lease to start I've had a hard time suppressing a feeling of dread that something, for some reason, would prevent us moving in at the last moment...So far, touch wood, it all seems to be tied up and a 'sure thing'. Even typing out that thought seems like tempting fate.

I read a quote online the other day.

Everyone has,

I think,

In some quiet corner

Of his mind,

An ideal home waiting

To become reality.

-Paige Renee

For me, this cottage is that home. If I could draw to save myself, and someone had asked me to illustrate my ideal home upon moving to England, it would have looked a lot like this place. Almost identical. I might have dreamed it into existence. Right down to the farmhouse kitchen sink.

We didn't realise we would end up living so far west when we arrived, but we've fallen deeply in love with the West Country, the wide, green farmland of Wiltshire, the darling little villages of the Cotswolds that time seems to have forgotten. I am in a real-life rural idyll out here, like I've somehow stumbled into a life befitting Beatrix Potter (albeit a long way south of the Lake District). 

The village that fate has gifted us nestles into a small valley, a brook babbles past the cottages, and the whole settlement is surrounded by ancient beech woodland. There is no shop, no newsagent, or petrol station. Just two village pubs. Some people would baulk at not being able to pop around the corner for milk. Or be unnerved that there is no grocery store to do a thrice weekly shop at within five minutes of home.

I, on the other hand, am relishing the idea that I will have to live more thoughtfully. I will need to have a fully stocked larder, make use of my slow-cooker, bulk cook, and freeze emergency meals. I am hoping this makes me more mindful of the ebb and flow of the seasons, the beginning and the end of each day, to slow down and notice how the light is different from month to month. I will have to exist contentedly in a little village free from modern trappings. No neon lights, no billboards or advertisements of any kind. Not any street lamps (I must buy a torch asap), or even numbers on the houses for the postman. Just the village noticeboard outside the churchyard. 

I know as an Australian (even one raised by English parents, with centuries of British blood in me) I am probably guilty of romanticising the English countryside and village life. The thing is, the line between romance and reality is so thin in this part of the world, I almost doubt its existence. It is very possible to drive through a Cotswold village and be completely convinced you've accidentally stumbled across a film set. Every English cliche is right before you at one time or another; gentlemen in tweed suits, bunting flapping in the breeze, woodland brimming with the latest seasonal offering- snowdrops, wild garlic, bluebells.

My nesting heart is going to be so full and satisfied once we get those keys. It might be a while before I come up for air...

Kate  x

Parrot tulips

Just when all of the spring flowers started to appear, the weather regressed back to its wintery ways.

These peachy, coral coloured parrot tulips have brought with them some spring cheer in between the gale force winds and the rain lashing down.

The winter revival can't last forever, St David's Day is almost upon us, and right on cue the daffodils are opening at a spring-like rate now.

It's so wonderful how the seasons unfold, time after time, bringing their own bounty with them.

Kate  x

Daffodils

We have daffodils indoors this week.

It's time to think of spring!

Kate  x

January citrus and antique markets

For my birthday I planned a trip to the ICAF antiques fair in Shepton Mallet. One of the things I was most excited about our move to the UK was all the antiques and vintage homewares that I'd be able to buy. So, I eagerly anticipated this particular birthday treat. I had visions of baskets, French dough bowls, milk glass vases, plant stands, kitchenalia and all manner of curiosities coming home with me. In other words I expected to be parted with cash, and be happy about it. After all, I'd heard good things about ICAF fairs HERE and HERE.

Although I did make a purchase- or should I say Alex made the purchase, being the one to haggle the price while I pretended not to know him and look busy on another stall... But, I didn't come away with a car load of beautiful-but-maybe-not-practical wares like I had imagined I would.

My sole purchase was some beautiful Edwardian era transfer ware.  I'm hopeless when it comes to resisting blue and white ceramics. And I have long admired the Asiatic Pheasants design first released in 1862 by Burleigh.

This is a lovely pie dish which I promptly filled with the season's best clemetines.

Accompanying the pie dish is this small platter plate, shown here with my grapefruit breakfast.

They weren't bargains per se (Alex did negotiate 7 pounds off the total) but they make me happy, and I am sure I couldn't have bought them back home in Australia at the same price.

I'll just have to keep looking for more treasures.

Kate  x

Paper whites

Yesterday was my 28th birthday!

Alex sent me a whole lot of paper white narcissi. 220 stems to be exact, although I didn't count them myself. All of my vases are still in storage, so I was desperately trying to find appropriate vessels to plonk them all in before dotting their heavenly scent in different corners of the house.

These are from one of the flower farms on the Isles of Scilly off the coast of Cornwall. I just love that they were hand cut on a farm off the British coast and couriered right to my door.

The Isles of Scilly are well known for their flower farms, at the peak of this industry in the early 20th century, approximately 40 tonnes of flowers were being shipped from the islands to markets in London weekly. The Isles are owned mostly by the Duchy of Cornwall which leases much of the freehold land to the Isles of Scilly Wildlife Trust. The rent payable? One daffodil per annum. Such a funny and sweet little bit of history.

We've woken up to snow here in Wiltshire today, so right now this is what my day is looking like...

Kate  x

Winter Solstice

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,

Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,

Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

It is the Winter Solstice today, and my gosh am I feeling these short dim days. I swear the sun set at 3.30pm today...

Still, it can't last forever. From here the days will get longer, brighter and the spring blossom and bulbs will arrive.

Kate  x

I'm so glad...

...I live in a world where there are Octobers.

I really am. October has a special place in my heart. But now I get to experience a bit of what L.M Montgomery meant when she wrote those words. She was speaking seasons. Or a seasonal shift that was special and unique to Octobers.

For the first time, I am getting to transition with autumn exactly as it unfolds in the northern hemisphere, with all the nuances that brings.

Friday, the eve of October, was a near perfect sunny day. I spent the afternoon sat next to the Thames with an old friend, drinking pimms and prosecco, soaking in the sunshine and company. We chatted for hours, watched swans drift by, and noted the barges on the river carrying peat and firewood for the coming cooler months.  

On Saturday morning Alex and I took the car out for a drive along the country lanes around Oxfordshire. It was misty, damp and very much a contrast to the previous afternoon. We started at the Chilterns and promptly let ourselves get lost somewhere between Henley and Reading. To be here on the cusp of autumn is such a treat. The harvest is done, the fields are empty of the summer crops, but the roadside still boasts cow parsley (Queen Anne's lace to all those back home), and the hedgerows are filled with blackberries. The hydrangeas are mottled and fading, tiny cyclamen carpet the undergrowth, unfazed by the deep shade and dim light cast by trees.

The trees are just on the turn. What a show is still to come.

Tomorrow I head for Bath.

Kate  x

How August unfolded

There have been daffodils, violets and ranunculus.

There have been time with loved ones, time with just the two of us, and time alone.

Alex has been on numerous business trips, and I've helped my Mum move house.

There have been many, many preparations for moving ourselves...

Less than one month to go.

Kate  x

Daffs

We've got cheery spring daffodils in the house this week. These are the paler 'white' daffodil variety, and at $7 for two bunches I think they more than brighten the house up, affordably!

I wander'd lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils.

William Wordsworth

I love they're happy disposition so much, and they remind me a lot of my childhood. Daffodils were the only cut flower I remember my Mum having in the house. 

Kate  x

David Austin Roses

They're impossibly beautiful, and they continue to delight as they open and become even more beautiful.

All Monday blues have been chased away by their divine perfume. This single one sits on my bedside table infusing my dreams of one day growing a garden full of David Austin roses.

Kate  x

En Saison

En saison, or the very opposite, in this case. 

It's a blustery winter Saturday here. I set out to buy an inexpensive bunch of daffodils to bring some cheer indoors. I've been patiently waiting for the daffs to start appearing in florists and green grocers this season.

Then, my usual flower man had David Austin roses. In winter! A little more expensive than a bunch of daffodils or jonquils, but Oh-so-worth-it.

The smell is divine. But that's a redundant statement when talking about David Austin roses. They tick every box. 

Simply a superior rose.

We also came home with kalettes. The kalette is the newest vegetable on the Australian market, a cross between kale and brussel sprouts. Should be interesting. 

Kate  x

Linen

I love the freshness of all white manchester. I have slowly been collecting new sheets, pillowslips and towels in white to replace worn out, mis-matched and generally less attractive manchester. The white things we already owned have also been getting a 'white boost' with some extended soaks in the laundry tub.

I spied these lovely Euro slip covers in a shop on Saturday and couldn't resist them. I adore the embroidery detail.

In my experience as a once-a-week bed sheet changer, Euro slip covers tend to wear out at a very fast rate. And, they can be rather pricey. These weren't, so at $40 for the pair I didn't really think twice about bringing them home with us.

Washed and ironed (loose use of the term ironed), they're going on the bed on this Clean Sheet Monday (as Mondays are referred to in our household).

Such sweet details.

It has been a weekend of acquisitions. As well as purchasing these covers, we were also graciously gifted two nearly-matching old oak bank swivel-chairs. They need a little TLC. I was going to photograph them, but I am not sure how best to capture their patina and loveliness. I would like to have them completely restored, but the expense of having someone else do that for us is silly. It might have to be a project for me to complete myself. I know nothing about stripping and refinishing antique wood though. At this point, I don't know if I should leave the wood as is and just have the seats re-done in a nice heavy duty cream coloured drill material to give them a 'lift', or bite the bullet and do a proper restoration start to finish. More research is needed...

Kate  x

Poppies

Our move to England happens this month. 

With such an important date looming you'd think I would be hastily packing, sifting through paperwork, or occupied by some other equally important task. 

Instead I am spamming instagram with pictures of the poppies I bought last Friday. 

My time management is woeful. 

Kate  x