Taking stock in the garden. I was surprised to see a second flush of what are possibly my favourite roses out there, Abraham Darby, and equally surprised by the strong vanilla scent from the white nemesia, which is just glorious. The yellow flowers growing in two parts of the garden were another surprise. I have no memory of buying the plants (no surprise there) and not a clue what they are.
Adding to the book pile. Always. The weaving book is a new publication from blogger, Mary Maddocks, with a number of projects to tempt and attempt. No prizes for guessing what I'm adding to my Christmas list.
Finishing a couple of books at bedtime, bringing the total to 38 so far this year, not that anyone's counting. Lazarus is the seventh title in the Joona Linna series and not one for the faint hearted or weak stomached. But if, like me, you like your crime fiction Scandi and noir, you might want to give it a try. Although it would work as a stand alone story, I'd suggest reading The Sandman first. Fifty-Fifty is a cracking legal thriller and highly recommended.
Chucking a recently completed sweater in the bin. I wasn't at all happy with this make (it was far too short and the neck opening was for someone with a head the size of a ping pong ball). In an attempt to make it wearable by re-knitting bits, I tried to take it apart but that ended in unmitigated disaster. Currently on the needles is a long-ish, olive green cardigan and much more likely to be worn. I do love a cardi. I've turned into my mum.
Watching the final episode of this and bawling my eyes out (I'm so predictable). Jennifer Aniston is unexpectedly good (though the same can't be said of Reese).
Stocking the cupboard with jars of jam. I'm not sure why I bother as I'm the only one who eats the stuff and I really don't need more sugar in my life. The fruits (plums and strawberries) were nothing special, just supermarket and veg shop purchases, but is there a more satisfying sight than a pan of sugar laden preserve in the making, bubbling and spitting away on the hob? Feeling a tad reckless, I strayed off piste this year and added cinnamon to the plums and rose geranium leaves to the strawberries. Get me.
Celebrating the tail end of summer with a pie, using good old Bramleys and freshly picked brambles from the hedgerow round the corner. I'd intended to cover the top entirely with pastry stars but got bored. Happens quite a lot here. It weighed a ton, it was so packed with fruit. Unsurprisingly, I ate most of it. With custard and Rennie chasers. Nope, not even a little bit sorry.
Harvesting wild strawberries growing in a pot in the garden. The plant was in the supermarket reduced trolley with a 59p price tag earlier in the year and home it came with me. The flavour of these teeny weeny berries was intensely, well, strawberry-y. I also managed to grow two tomatoes (yes, just the two) which turned out to be inedible. Luckily, my next-door neighbour has an allotment and she knocked on the door the other day with a present of a bag of cherry tomatoes she'd grown.
Including a bunch of sunflowers in the shopping order because I do like a vase of seasonal flowers. Sainsburys did not disappoint.
Relishing the rumblings of change, as one season begins to segue into the next. It's no secret I'm the biggest fan of autumn and, my absolute favourite, winter. Already my mood is lifting.
With a nod to cooler temperatures, porridge oats have reappeared on the menu, in baked form (yes, embracing all the comfort food here). I use this favourite recipe but have tinkered with it and ditched the carrots, subbing a layer of sliced fruit on the bottom of the dish (pears, apples, peaches and plums work well) and a scattering of blueberries or raspberries on top.
It's delicious, with its soft, fruity base, autumnal flavours of cinnamon, ginger and maple syrup and the addition of crunchy nuts and dried fruit (you could easily leave out these last two but I'm a throw everything at it kind of cook). Once cut into portions, it can be frozen so there's always a little stash. Serve with a dollop of coconut yoghurt and Bob's your mum's brother.
Feeling thoroughly fed up with continuing hamstring pain, it was time to consult with the physiotherapist. After a lengthy assessment (this particular physio was recommended by my yoga teacher as he takes a whole body approach), it turns out the problem is most likely my shoulder. Who'da thought? I've been given various exercises (talk about snap, crackle and pop, other people can actually hear the noises my shoulder makes as I practice them) and follow up appointments, so no doubt time will tell.
Spending an hour or so in the company of Monty Don. I really enjoy these In Conversation With … events which, because of covid restrictions, are currently taking place online (I've previously seen Margaret Atwood in Birmingham and Nigella in Gateshead). The ticket for this one included a copy of Monty's latest book which looks most promising.
I learned quite a lot in that 60 minutes, about nature and the man himself. Who knew no-one is sure where house martins spend their winters? Yes, they head for Africa but where exactly? And I now know the difference between mouse and bat poo (bat poo is crumbly, mouse poo is squidgy). And did you know Monty is scared of bats?
Next month it's Nigella again (you can never have too much of Nigella in my opinion), with her latest book also part of the deal I opted for. I'm really looking forward to it. Especially as I can watch wearing my pyjamas.
Wondering what lies in store for us all over the next few months and beyond in this strangest of years. It struck me that we've seen the littlest and his parents just the once since early March.
Hoping we recognise each other the next time we meet.
