Rose Petal Jam

As you have probably gathered by now, I am passionate about my roses. I not only love them for their beauty, scent, etc.... but also for the way they connect me with my mum and grandmother. This is Albertine which is one of our shared favourites and is suddenly flourishing this year over the archway leading into our garden.

 Another rose I love in the garden is an unnamed variety (to me anyway) which has large, deeply fragrant, pink flowers. On Saturday it was bowing under the weight of so many roses, many about to drop their perfect petals and so, I set about making rose petal jam from this recipe.

It was magical to have the air fill with rose petal steam.

 And pretty. Pretty beyond belief.

 The best thing is that now I have lots of little jars to give as Christmas presents. Hopefully I might even keep one or two for winter when I start going into rose withdrawal. 

This is the beautiful bright pink rose that gave up its petals for jam (with some Pierre de Ronsard blooms keeping company)....

Lots and lots of love,

Kate. xxooxx.

Farm Produce.

 I will write quickly today as Jonno's computer has a bit of a temperature and is a little cranky... Here is a mushroom from the farm. It didn't grow on the farm but as I made it here I figure it still counts.

 Mid summer and the dahlias are going crazy, perfect to add to a present.

 Plums and eggs.

 And a little bit of blackberry picking with Hugo on the bank behind the house.

 We are loving our time together at the moment and made another spoge cake with plum jam, blackberries and blueberries.

Next time we will use farm cream too - the milkman is away hiking at the moment...
Lots of love,
Kate xxooxx.

Sunday morning chooks.

With every group, there always seems to be one individual with their own plans. On our farm, it is a chook. We have six hens who live in harmony with our dogs, cats and boys. Their house is down in the orchard, covered with passion fruit vines and by pink and white blossom trees. Every morning they make their way up to the garden, weaving their way through the red-stemmed dogwoods, up past the clumps of bluebells and onto our long, thick green-leaved lawn. Five of them cluck together, rushing over to see bleary eyed worms sticking their soft heads out to the morning light. They all take quick darts with their clacking beaks and jump up and down with agitation and excitement.

One little chook always walks away, instead jerking its wrinkled feet through the dew to our veranda where it then pecks away at the concrete, cleaning up all of the boys' crumbs from the previous day. It is now so bold and curious that when the boys are watching their morning cartoons, it comes to the door, taps its beak on the frame and studies them, her head tipped to one side. If they move back slightly from the door, she jumps through and strolls past the Lego, tapping the odd Morse coded signal and smashing any left over rice bubbles that have jumped out of a breakfast bowl.

We chase her out of the house after a couple of minutes because somehow, sense kicks in that perhaps it is not a good idea to let a hen have run of the house. Also, our home is chaotic enough without chooks roosting as well. And there is always the thought that tomorrow morning she will return.

I admire her because she isn't afraid to test the boundaries, to try new places and not become discouraged by rejection. There is something in her that makes her less fearful and I wish from the tips of my ears to the ends of my toes that I could have some of this too. My life is threatening change and I want to be able to embrace it, to not be weighed down by fear of the unknown. Maybe I could practise bravery by banging my nose and teeth against the concrete floor too, or instead, maybe I could just go upstairs and write my application forms, saving my bones from breaking unnecessarily. Where is that pen...

Harvest and Plum Jam

Things have been a bit quiet on the blogging front so I thought I would do a little catch up from last week. Now the seasons are changing, the plum jam is coming into its own bringing memories of summer onto our plates. And autumn too is having its celebration, showering our grass with feijoas, windfall apples and pale blue eggs.

A Morning's Harvest

Hugo's contribution to the day - a burst of beauty

The Hens' contribution - a little bit of protein

And the orchard's contribution - some late ripening nectarines so full of sweetness the gods have been circling our trees

Our Orchard Says Welcome Home

I am humbled. Our garden and orchard have seen nothing but neglect over the past year and yet, with joy in their heart, they have welcomed us home in abundance. Punnets that were bought and then shamefully plonked on top of the vege bed, are now spreading their tendrils in a huge circle and are heaving with ready to be picked zucchini. The plums are sweet and the apples are plumping with promise. The hens are laying and in fact, speaking of of our feathery little friends, I had better go and feed them now.

Picnik Collage

This is my first attempt at making a collage on Picnik and who better to include than Jonno, Archie and Hugo welcoming me home - note Hugo's new and extremely alarming habit, a nice touch having garden chemicals behind - most organic but still..... I found a tutorial on Lucy Bowler's blog (alright, she is my sister) and thought what a great way to get lots of photos up.

Strolling down to the chook shed this afternoon was sheer, giddy, heaven. The hen featured at the top is giving me the eye, she pecked me but thankfully my skin withstood the assault, who is to say however, that she hasn't acquired a taste for me.

These are the things that bring my soul home and make it settle in one place rather than having its precious gossamer stretched from one country to another. Our bright blue barn, adventurous kittens not quite ready to be weaned and fruit fattening in the orchard..... I have to say though, the nectarines are showing suspicious bites and after reading a vampire series, I am very pleased to say they don't look like fang marks.