Some Autumn Medicine for all those Rhino Virus Sufferers.

Good evening!
I've been under the weather for the past week, although I have been dragging myself in to work anyway.
Persistant little worker, aren't I?

There is a virus doing the rounds in the Wetlands, called the Rhino virus. Compared to, say, Ebola it is a kitten of a virus. The symptoms are throatache, headache and a temperature. Oh, and you do need a wagon load of tissues...

Nothing very serious, you'll live. But it is a bugger if you cannot afford to take your soothing cup of tea and your good book to your sofabed, but when you have to work on instead.

So, if you are one of those poor people having to work on, feeling grotty, this post is for you. 

I have searched out the most gorgeous Autumn photos I could find at short notice. As I got them from the Internet, there are no credits.  But they are beautiful, those photographers know their trade!

To help you soothe that throat, and to feel better, try my recipe:

- boil some water

- put three large table spoons of organic honey in it

- put 1 table spoon of organic cinnamon in it

- stir well

- light a small candle underneath an aromatherapy burner

- put three drops of pure eucalyptus oil into some water on the burner

- put on the latest CD by Susan McKeown (Through Bushes and Through Briars)

drink your brew whilst sitting already in your bed, listening to Susan's intriguing way of treating traditional Irish songs.

You'll feel better! 

Susan McKeown

Happy October To You!

Okay. Time to own up...
Hey there, you folks in the Ukraine, help me out here!
Illuminate me. WHY is it I have more readers from your country than from my own?
It baffles me!
Not that I am complaining, mind you. Nice to see you, any time.

My taxus tree is in fruit, isn't it gorgeous?

Okay. Time to make myself a cup of tea. I have a nasty cold and am in need of hydration. Have a lovely Sunday and until next time!

Grape Harvest Tiny? Make Jam!

Good morning to you!
Four years ago we planted a blue grape. Not well-planned, so we planted it in our sunny corner near the pond, but also next to the prickly hedge...

This was in July.

And this was yesterday:

Cool, eh?

I have spent a very pleasurable hour picking them yesterday afternoon, trying to ignore the numerous spiders crawling up my sleeves and down my neck.

Unfortunately this vine has wound itself right into the prickly hedge, so I had to pick very carefully, giving the spiders ample time for their crawling business.

Watching the fish in our pond calmed me down after my fit that occurred when a huge spider had worked its way into my armpit.

They always flock when they see me, hoping for a nice little freeze dried shrimp or two.

Oh, do you know, when I was right into that hedge a brown frog leaped out of it, right over my head, into the pond. It must have been sitting at least 1.8 m high, snacking on all these spiders, no doubt.

And this was wound into that hedge as well. Don't you love them? I do!

Oost-Indische Kers is their name in Dutch. They have seeded themselves. I certainly didn't put them in that hedge! Shades of Middle Earth, eh?

Right. Now take a look at  my harvest:

Looking good! But definitely NOT enough for making wine (which is what I ultimately would like to do). So...I'll make jam. Plain jelly, plain jam and grape-and-apple compote.

Went to the local jam jar selling shop, and had to endure a jabbering shop assistant, who was so into her own story that she dropped my entire load of jars on the floor and broke half. She had to go to the back to get others, and I ended up with a different size as she had run out of the size I wanted in the first place. That was an exercise in patience, which I survived.

This morning I started out bright and early.

And this is the result, 6 hours later.

Will this get us through the winter? Hmmmmmm...

Oh...It Feels Like Autumn Has Arrived! 10 Reasons Not to Panic.

If you are a Summer person, like me, the arrival of the berries on the Hawthorn may fill you with trepidation.

And no, these aren't them. It is an Autumnal image though...

We have a saying in my part of the Wetlands: when the Hawthorn berries turn red, Autumn has arrived.

And they have. Turned red.

And my predominant emotion is noooooooooooooo, I'm not ready!

Autumn means damp, and wind, and wetness, and getting up in the morning when it is still dark, and all too soon it means getting home in the dark as well.

And I'll feel like a frigging mole for months on end.

So. This year will be different. I have decided this single-handedly.

And to help myself along (and you), I will now proceed to list 10 reasons not to panic.

1. Toadstools are lovely. Even when there are no faeries sitting on them (if there are, they are even lovelier, or you have been at the wine again)

2. Autumn leaves are gorgeous and smell divine

3. Autumn is the perfect excuse for lighting the wood stove, which is the perfect excuse for making either hot chocolate or for opening a good bottle of wine

4.  The grapes are ripe, which means I can do my thing and make grape juice and grape jelly and grape-and-apple confiture (no wine, alas, we do not have enough of them. Erm...is it me, or is there a very high wine content in this post?)

5. Most youngsters leave our communal park hang-out and move indoors. This makes our nights a lot quieter - which is good. Quiet is good, when you are over 55.

6. Temperatures dropping are a good reason for making stews and hotpots. Somehow these dishes do not appeal to a lot of people when the sun is shining and everyone is drinking either Radler or Rosé.

7. Autumn is the approach to Winter. And Winter in the Wetlands could (note the word!) mean ice, which in turn could mean ice skating on natural ice. Now, you do not know this, but we Dutchies are a bit loony where ice skating is concerned. My husband, for example, is known to drop everything and will risk his life to be one of the first ones to skate on 'virginal' ice. It is always business before pleasure; until the nearest lake freezes over. Then it is 'where did I leave my long underwear'.

8. Autumn means running up to Christmas. We, non- Christians, are big on Christmas in our house. Weird, I know. It is the lights, the cosy tree, the lovely shop windows, the planning of parties, the planning and making of dinners. (Not so much the music; when I hear Wham's Last Christmas one more time I'll probably puke)

9. Autumn means our own apples from our own Elstar apple tree. Without doubt and without boasting the best tasting apples ever. The non-wormhole ones we eat raw, the others we dissect and make apple sauce from with lots of cinnamon.

10. Autumn usually has dreamy quiet windless days in between all the wet windy ones. Those quiet days are gorgeous. You can feel the world slowing down. Nature winding down. Mosquitos leave. The starlings and jackdaws wheel through the sky in their hundreds and make up for the fact that the swallows and house martins have left for Africa. Spiderwebs make the garden a jewel filled treasure trove. 

See? it's not so bad.

Enjoy your Autumn!

Can art emulate nature?

If this was a genuine question, I'd answer: "no, of course not". Especially now, with a severe storm raging around our house. Wind speeds up to 135 km/h, and flood warnings. There are always the flood warnings, where I live. With a full moon, it's a high spring tide tonight.

So I expect that those last leaves on my ghost birch will have been blown off tomorrow morning...

We've put the geraniums and herbs in the greenhouse, wouldn't want them blowing around the garden, now would we?