Pot luck

Sunday MrFF suggested we take my usual walk together before shopping for the news paper and a few items we needed as friends were coming for dinner.  We were out in good time, only got a little damp and were home before the heavy rain started.

The route down to and over the river takes us past a pretty garden where the owner often puts out pots of mostly bedding plants for sale, around 50p each and sizeable healthy plants they are a bargain.  You make your selection and post the money through the letterbox.   As usual I stopped to see what was available and this time he had some very lovely terracotta pots planted up with begonias and petunias.  I am a sucker for a nice pot, I’ve been known to buy plants just to get the pot and these were good.  Two small square ones £5 each a larger one £10 of the usual flowerpot shape with a pie crust border.  I looked at them longingly while MrFF pressed on, no way could we carry them on our walk. But I thought about them a lot, particularly the square ones and Monday morning after breakfast announced I needed to go out.  

Amazingly the pots were still for sale and I bought the two square ones, posting a £10 note through the letter box.  I also checked the pie crust pot which I saw was handmade from Witchford Pottery they call these their pastry pots. We visited the pottery located near Stratford in Avon many years ago when we toured the Cotswolds.  Then I bought a lovely pot for my Scottish garden that I passed to my brother when we downsized.  

By the time I came home via the town collecting a few essentials my arms were aching as after overnight rain the pots and their contents were saturated.  But it was worth the effort, they look great on the balcony.  But of course the pastry pot preyed on my mind and by mid afternoon I was out again telling myself if the pot had been sold it didn’t matter.   It was still there, another £10 through the letterbox, more arm ache and it came home, I’d walked 3.5 miles on my journeys.

I like the symmetry, a friend had already lent me the other big pot for my dahlias, and I like all the clashing bright colours. I am so pleased with my purchases and our summer balcony. 

A tisket a tasket*

I lost my summer basket.  When we returned to sunny Ilkley in June I had visions of me floating round the town wearing cream linen carrying my lovely basket from the Oxfam shop fair trade section.  Except I couldn’t find the blooming thing anywhere and began to wonder if I’d taken it to Italy in April and left it there.  I searched all the wardrobes plus I thought the coat cupboard which was where after several weeks I eventually found it, on a coat hanger and covered by a coat.  

The missing basket however prompted me to have a good sort through the penthouse and rediscover a lot of things.  Do I need my old running club vest even if it still fits.  How many pairs of old trousers do I need for gardening when mostly I just tend the pots on the balcony.  And as for my extensive collection of scarves, maybe I need to stop knitting them.

* this is a nursery rhyme that I sung as a child.  Oddly I remember the words from 70+ years ago but not where I currently keep my basket.

A tisket a tasket my green and yellow basket.  I wrote a letter to my love and on the way I dropped it. Someone must have picked it up and put it in their pocket.

The Middleton Lemons

Growing and maintaining plants in an apartment that is unoccupied for several months each year can be challenging not to mention the logistics of potting, storing compost, equipment etc with limited space.  But I have gardened for many years and created two gardens from scratch so it’s hard not to. I still have the desire to grow things wherever I am despite being thwarted by Mario’s brutal unwanted pruning in Italy and the mow and murder gardener in our Ilkley communal gardens.

Before we left for Italy in April I passed two plants I really didn’t want to lose to a friend to keep for me.  I’d slipped a few lemon pips into the compost of the Swedish ivy, plectranthus verticillatus, one was growing.  My friend said she’d take great care of the seedling and named it Pippa.  In Italy I had a message to say another little lemon seedling had appeared, I named it Kate and then just recently James appeared, he stayed in the pot with the ivy as he was only small.

The two original plants came back to the penthouse after MrFF met up with their keepers on a group walk but the first two lemons were deemed too fragile to travel in the boot of the car and spend the day there while the walk took place.   With difficulty I managed to get James out of the compost and into his own pot, so far he has only his seed leaves.

Last Friday we travelled to our friends’ house near York to have lunch, admire their newly landscaped beautiful garden and collect the lemon sisters from the greenhouse. The girls had kindly been repotted into little terracotta pots complete with saucers and labelled.  They have grown considerably and like the other fostered plants are extremely healthy.

At present they sit in the lounge next to the balcony doors though they can probably go outside this week if the forecast heat returns.  I hope I can keep them going, it would be a delight to have lemon plants in the apartment, does three count as a grove?   My single Italian lemon tree in Italy shown below is thriving, why did I never think to plant pips there, I could have an orchard full by now.

For those who don’t follow the British royal family, Pippa Middleton is the sister of Kate Middleton, the Princess of Wales, wife of Prince William, James is their younger brother 

Knitting now

Before we left for Italy I was gifted by a fellow (male) resident who is an expert spinner about a kilo of his hand spun Cheviot yarn.  I was delighted and after some thought decided I should pass his kindness forward by using the yarn to do some good. It’s very thick and rustic, I used my largest size needles for a few sample swatches and finally decided to make cable winter cowls.  I had enough yarn for 5 which I then passed back to him to be sold at a craft fair and the money given to a girls’ refuge he and his wife support.  

He was very pleased when I delivered them and I came home with about 500 g of different handspun, half of which is New Zealand lustre, much finer and softer with a very silky feel so maybe a scarf.   Again I’ll pass the end product back to my neighbour for his charity.  He did tell me he spins more yarn than he can ever use, even considering his wife is an accomplished weaver, so perhaps my own stash isn’t going to reduce much for a while.

Meanwhile in Italy i successfully used up a lot of yarn oddments to make 3 pairs of socks, some more odd than others. 

And a pair of my favourite ever socks, West Yorkshire Spinners wood pigeon, I can never have too many pairs of these. That all feels quite productive if all completely  unwearable as our heatwave continues.

Treasure trove

Before we left Italy we took a trip to the isola ecologica, the refuse recycling centre that is open two days a week.  It’s situated several miles below the village down a steep narrow road and always busy with refuse vehicles but needs must as MrFF had an old and broken wheelbarrow to dispose of and I’d decluttered a few things myself.  Lots of villages have scrap men calling most days. If you leave an item at the side of the road outside your property it disappears almost immediately, we regularly hear them calling for ferro vecchio but they never drive up to us. We have been know, with permission, to leave things outside our friends’ house in the valley if we’ve been visiting.

So off we tootled on Saturday morning, the depot was busy as Friday there had been a one day strike over safety issues so people were getting rid of their general waste as well as objects the collectors won’t take.

The centre seems to be organised by a group of ladies who run it very well, we were  told where to put the barrow and the box of odds and ends was quickly sorted and despatched to the appropriate skips.  I noticed in the large skip of rubble that a few items were strategically placed on top, pottery bowls, plates, cookware.  Of course I had to take a look and spotted a little statue of three discreetly clad young women, it looked like marble.  I suggested to MrFF it would be nice in the garden.  Take it he said, they let us take the cat carrier years ago they’ll let you have that.  Even though it was obvious the items were set out to be claimed I thought we should ask and the lady said of course we could have it, how happy was I.  She then said she knew where we lived and we chatted for a while about the heat and our upcoming journey home.

Back at the house I did some research, it’s the 3 Graces made in Rome by R Leoni from a resin of marble and other material.  One not in such good condition, mine just has a tiny chip on the base, sold for 100 euro.  Now of course I feel it’s too good for the garden, but I’ve no idea where to put it in the house.  Maybe the girls can just spend their summers al fresco after all they are hardly dressed for the cold.

The drive home

It’s always nice to be home but particularly so with such good weather.  As ever our journey back was long, driving to the north of Italy was frantic. There may be fewer lorries on the autostrada on Sundays but the traffic was still heavy and the service areas incredibly crowded. We stopped for our picnic lunch in 37.5 degrees.

Our usual Aosta hotel was not available, they were taking a holiday themselves, so we searched for an alternative.  I was very taken with a pretty little locanda run by three sisters but MrFF was not taken by the fact the restaurant was vegan.  It turned out to be a delight, the food was delicious, breakfast was the best I’ve had in years and I am a connoisseur of the continental brekkie.  Who wouldn’t be happy waking to this view then eating fresh fruit, many types of bread, fluffy pancakes, banana bread, brownies, apple cake, the best croissants ever, yoghurt, good coffee.

On our drive to our French 2 night stopover we found time to visit the Charles de Gaulle Memorial, situated outside a little village in a quiet and calm wooded area, we were impressed.

We also called en route to quickly look at Lac du Der which isn’t far from our accommodation. It was so nice we went back on our non travel day and took a walk.  It’s a lovely facility with holiday cabins in the woods, camping, boats, restaurants, cycle paths and everyone quietly enjoying the peace.

Back to our apartment for a swim, out for dinner, we left by 8 next morning.  We arrived in good time at the port but received a thorough check at border control, that involved completely unpacking our car and opening our suitcases so we were almost last onto the ferry. We had to park among the giant lorries and wait for everyone else to disembark but it was another epic journey safely completed.

Yesterday MrFF walked down to our beautiful Lido, had a picnic lunch, swam and sat in the sun, he said it was the mostly relaxing day he’d had in weeks and I can well believe that.

Final flora and fauna post

I won’t overwhelm you with nature posts, this will be the last one from Italy as we leave tomorrow.

I took a walk to the bottom of our road late afternoon and spotted this, why had I not seen it before its easily visible from our terrace.  The giant flower spike of an agave, almost as tall as the telegraph pole.  I am really hoping it will still be there and in bloom when we return and that Pietro whose house it is opposite won’t have had it cut down.  The flowering process takes a few months, after which the stem topples over and pups, new young plants, are produced.  The mother plant which could be 100 years old dies, even if the flower stem is removed now it will not survive.