Colour saturation

Wakehurst Place and a private garden showing off their

rhododendrons and clematis.

This little pot and its contents, yielded by our garden.

All I've got today

Three corners

We had nearly all of the United Kingdom covered this weekend.

Darling grand-daughter sped off to North North Wales for a wedding,

a seven hour journey by train, tube,train, train, bus, bus.

Younger son stayed at this fascinating, unreconstructed house in Edinburgh

for two nights before proceeding an hour north of Inverness,

by train,tube, train, train, car.

We went far South (by car) and enjoyed a quiet time

photographing cups of coffee,

blackberrying,

  beach foraging

 and exploring medieval cellars,

finishing in North North London

with a walk by this beautiful lake with my brother.

Pretty stunning considering it's not properly remote like

North North Scotland.

Flawed?

Yes.

But not fatally.

If someone judged that this engraved claret jug

was worth stapling together when the handle broke off,

then I thought it was worth bringing home for £4.

Here is someone else who admires

the art of the creative repair.

Digging in drawers

I ran out of wrapping paper.

This is lining paper 

and some old Christmas ink stamps

which I found in the art drawer 

 in a huge oak plan chest which now serves as

a base for a spare mattress.

It's full of reminders of past projects -

lino cutting, collage, scrapbooks,

watercolours, charcoal drawing,

stencils, reams of coloured tissue paper,

hand made papers, acrylic paints,

calligraphy equipment, badge making,

wallets of glossy photographs, origami papers,

picture frames, sugar paper, mounting boards.

Like my kitchen drawer,

it is as revealing as an archaeological dig.

Speaking of which. 

We received planning permission for a small extension,

but it must be carried out under a watching brief

from archaeologists while the ground work takes place

in order to record any items of historical interest.

This is simultaneously rather exciting,

(visions of Time Team digging

exploratory trenches, bring in geo phys equipment

and whisking me into a helicopter to survey the emerging

Iron Age settlement)

and bloody annoying because this spells extra expense

and further delay.

I once worked on a rescue dig in what is now Milton Keynes.

We scraped very, very slowly with our tiny trowels,

and washed and bagged up countless shards of pottery

before the diggers were allowed to tear the ground up.

Quick march

If you'd like a cup of tea

at a National Trust property after an afternoon walk,

you'd better look sharpish 

because they stop serving on the dot of 4.30.

Thus it was, as an antidote to too much sitting around 
watching television yesterday,

we set off after a very early luncheon for 

the start (and finish) of our walk at Ightham Mote,

'one of the oldest and loveliest of 

medieval manor houses to survive in England.'

It's all a bit of a blur.

Are those hares? 

They look too big to be rabbits.

Fast fading bluebells, but English not Spanish,

you can tell because the bells all hang from the 

drooping underside of the stem

rather than rotating round the thicker upright stem.

I had never realised that the white horse-chestnut 

flower is flecked with yellow, pink and even orange.

The scrutiny of a sheep at some point on a walk is

inevitable but unnerving. 

By the time we reached the house our time was nearly up 

and we were gently shepherded from room to room by

accumulating volunteer guides, 

so that the house could be closed up behind us.  

This 16th century stained glass was brought to the chapel from 

Germany and installed in the early 19th century.

Furniture and fittings dating from the Middle Ages 
and the 18th century were probably brought 
gradually and haphazardly to create an antiquarian look.

The gardens were open for a little longer,

but the house deserves a more leisurely visit.

You can't rush through 670 years of history.

Heraldic blooms

 Amaryllis rampant.

Hyacinth couchant.

Freesia sejant.

All terms normally applied to the postures of lions

on a shield.