Well isn’t this a glut? I had all sorts of good intentions of mulching the fruit tree in the orchard this afternoon.  But I was halted on my progress down to the lower terrace by the sight of my broad beans.  I have been neglecting them.  For weeks now, it seems, I have been giving them a squeeze to see if the pods inside were swelling and they weren’t.  But suddenly I am swamped with ripe broad beans everywhere.

Down tools and out with a bucket.  That filled in no time. Up with a bigger bucket. And that did the trick. I have a dozen or so plants left to harvest, but this lot will keep me going through a few sets of tennis watching on the television tonight.

I have so many pictures to post, and so much news to impart. But this is the tricky bit about a hot early summer. You need to get up early to do things before it gets hot.  Middle of the day you are supposed to have a siesta.  But I just can’t manage it – I get flashbacks of kindergarten in Sydney when all the children were supposed to lie down on a mat after lunch for a rest.  It was way too exciting to have a sleep when there were so many children about and new adventures to have.  I can still here the stern voice of a kindy teacher saying to the five year old self  ‘Lindy, Lie Down!’.  And I still don’t.

But if you are working until after 9 in the garden and only eating dinner at 10, sneezing all the while. Even this duracel bunny wears out.

Here is the results of my late night last thing before bed activity.  These wild achillea were in the area I am about to strim today. I couldn’t contemplate killing these lovely wildflowers. So I grabbed a bunch and brought them into the house.  And don’t tell me this is the reason why I am still sneezing. One must suffer for beauty. A bit.

My eyes are streaming and I can cough as though I was a fifty a day smoker. But it’s a victory over the most pernicious weed on the property: the verbascum. Mullein. Strimmer’s revenge.

Here is what others call it: Mullein. Torches. Mullein Dock. Our Lady’s Flannel. Velvet Dock. Blanket Herb. Velvet Plant. Woollen. Rag Paper. Candlewick Plant. Wild Ice Leaf. Clown’s Lungwort. Bullock’s Lungwort. Aaron’s Rod. Jupiter’s Staff. Jacob’s Staff. Peter’s Staff. Shepherd’s Staff. Shepherd’s Clubs. Beggar’s Stalk. Golden Rod. Adam’s Flannel. Beggar’s Blanket. Clot. Cuddy’s Lungs. Duffle. Feltwort. Fluffweed. Hare’s Beard. Old Man’s Flannel. Hag’s Taper.

Clot Cuddy’s Lungs will do for me. Mine are aching from coughing. You can’t strim them as they are too thick. And when you thwack them they give off a cloud of white pollen that coat the stalk and flower spike. All you can do is get a thick pair of secateurs – loppers really. And cut them to the ground.

I was strimming away at the top terrace this evening, but had to stop at eight pm. It didn’t feel fair to pollute the valley with the whine of the strimmer at that late hour. But I really couldn’t start till after 630pm as it has been too hot today. But the slight evening breeze made it almost a pleasure. Until I found the verbascums.  So I downed strimmer and took my loppers and had a happy half hour doing all sorts of destructive things.  I have found a tree on the property that has suckered like mad. Or is it just a very successful seeding variety that has a high germination rate?  We haven’t strimmed here for over a year.  And I wish I had been here earlier. It’s a charming part of the property. And I’ve even found a flat bit of land. Perfect spot for a little polytunne perhaps? Or just a place to perch and admire the view.  I have to sort out how to get the fence turned into a gate first. And get a set of steps up to it. But suddenly you feel anything is possible once you have stopped sneezing.

Right. I need to stick my head in a bucket. And get rid of these pollen infested clothes.

I’m going for the trifecta: stinging nettles, euphorbia pruning and for a finale – raspberry picking. Nothing like going for all the things that sting and hurt in the one day.

I hadn’t planned on the nettles, but when you are hunting strawberries you do tend to end up in the nettles at the very back of the bed near the wall.

And what a fun injury to have. My thumb nail is aching from podding so many peas. Oh poor you.  And indeed this fantastic glut does cause small inconveniences.  Sore thumb; aching jaws from insisting on chewing the empty pods; tired limbs from standing up and podding like mad.

I don’t know quite why I don’t choose a good place in the shade to sit down and shell the peas; but it’s cooler inside the house.

I am gorging myself on Harry Potter talking books as I work.  And I find that you get very silly and start giving names to your tasks and the garden that are in some vague way related to Hogwarts.  Thus the mulberry tree on the terrace is the womping willow, and planting fifty leeks in the blazing sunshine in the vegetable bed was like being in a leeky cauldron of sweat. My friend Sarah is probably the only reader who will get this joke.

Charming, I know, but heat will do these things.  I have watered the lovely orchard and olive trees,  which are far from lovely.  But one of the teensy trees is fruiting for the first time. I need to mulch these plants to hold off the encroaching rich weeds.

I’m up early to give the garden a good drench.  Lower vegetable garden, and then hauling the hose right up to the young verbena bonariensis forest of seedlings on the bank above the potting shed.

Tomorrow I will do the orchard and the cabbages and raspberries right up at the top of the property. It’s a great work out on the arms as we only have one hose.  And it stretches about 200 metres.

It is a hot week of blazing sunshine this week, so I have to get everything done early.  Mulching was up next: there’s plenty of lovely compost in the bins.  So I have decided to mulch like mad and empty one side completely so I can fill up and start again. A lovely cycle. But best not done in the heat of the day.

I have decided that the little nascent verbena bonariensis hedge (read two inches high in most areas) needs a feed.  So I have napped each tiny plant in a rich compost to make a pretty row of dark soil.  And hope that it will feed the plants over this hot week and beyond.  If all goes well they will just get to the right height in time for autumn and then they will die back down again.  But one must persist as there are a few plants that survived the winter and they are utterly divine.

I don’t have enough mulch to cover the entire vegetable gardens, so I have decided to target specific plants.  There are plenty of squash plants dotted throughout the onions and garlic bed.  I can’t take a picture of it as you can’t see the plants for the weeds.  But each small plant now has a dinner plate sized circle of lovely mulch.  And tomorrow I need to do the olive trees and maybe the fruit trees in the orchard. There’s fruit down there and it’s all very exciting after just one year of waiting.

Walking down to the stables I noticed that in just a week the orchard needs mowing – wildflowers are fantastic at very zippy colonising and are trying to get established in the lawn. I’m not ready to do any clever designs of wildflower squares just yet.  So instead I did the dull old mow of every bit.  And the track up to the pool, and the piano area of lush grass under the birch tree.  And the edges of the road down to the end of the property.  And the parking area up the top.  That’s the problem with mowing; it’s a tad addictive.

Hours later I was ready to flop into the pool. But instead I decided to pick white currants and raspberries.  The black currants are also ripe but not juicy. So I have hauled in about a kilo or so of white currants with the intention of turning them into jam.  The jostaberries – our star soft fruit – is a week off fully ripe.

I have done the ‘turn kilos of fruit into jelly’ palaver. And found that all the effort yields so few pots after all that toil.  So I mixed white currants (simmered  for twenty minutes and pushed through a sieve) with lovely raspberries.  And I must say the effect is rather stunning and I managed eleven pots.  Not as rich as just plain old raspberry, but delicious.  My best jam yet? Perhaps. (I’m tucking into a crumpet and jam as I type.)

And other things? Can’t recall at all what I did. Picked cherries, tried to take pictures of all the lovely New Dawn roses in the herb garden, and generally pottered about.

Time to potter into a glass of beer if you ask me. And watch the tennis.

I’m running out of ideas: but this one came to me. Cherry cordial.  I was tempted because the recipe didn’t call on pitting the fruit first.  But actually when you have to cut each cherry in half first you might as well go all the way and pit too.  But it turned out to be quite a tasty addition to the store cupboard.  Very sweet and a sickly colour, but hey. It used up a kilogram of cherries nicely. And two apples in case you are wondering what the pale bits are in the bowl.

And I managed to pick almost all the cherries without having to use a ladder. Just reached up to the branches and collected the fruit.

Today was one of those I think I’ve overdosed on antihistamines day. Slow and sluggish and having to constantly remind myself what I wanted to do.

First up was to plant out the geraniums I brought from London and the ones I spent  a fortune on at the local garden centre this morning.  Abundance is what you need; and it’s what I don’t have. I need to plant up six large planters so there are missing bits. I will have to scour markets and such over the next few weeks and see if I can fill the gaps.

Mind you, the vines are so rampant up at the terrace that the planters are almost obscured by verdant growth.  I hacked away at the vines to reveal the view, and removed some of the whippier growth around the base where the planters need to strut their stuff.

Then I wandered round a bit in a daze. I noticed that I have plenty of ready compost in one of the bins.  So I decided to put it to use: under the wisteria tree.  I was going to call it a shrub, but it’s so huge that a tree is feels.  And underneath the bed I’m going to have to think what to do.  In spring it’s fine with all the wonderful Mount Tacoma tulips, and narcissus.  But now there’s a gap before the nasturtiums take off and the red hot pokers (can’t for the life of me spell kniphofia) do something more than sulk.

Actually I gave so many of my nasturtiums away to the village this spring that I’m a bit short. Must remember to sow more nasturtium seeds next year.  And it’s possible the pokers don’t like this blazing sunshine for only half the day.  Shade and drought tolerant plants.  I must go to the books and internet to do a bit of research.

I then realised that another place calling ouf for mulch is the onion and garlic bed.  Not the onions; but the squash and pumpkin plants that are dotted throughout the bed.  They are growing but not thriving.  I have lifted a few of the onions and garlic around each plant to see if they are ready.  They are not. But it’s a start.  There is a tale that you plant the onions on the shortest day and lift them on the longest.  But mine are titchy and are either going to bulk up for another few weeks. Or just remain small.

I just have to console myself with the wonderful glut of beans and peas. Dinner last night (I’m writing this early Saturday morning) was a feast of broad beans, peas, fresh herbs, fresh garlic and onions. Served on a bed of rice. Divine.

Oh yes. And I pruned the thyme on the steps after flowering.  I should have done it early in the morning while all the thyme was scented and oily.  But no. I forgot. So the kilos of cuttings I now have won’t be as scented for the herbes de provence I want to make. Ah well. That will teach me not to do my research before I reach for the secateurs.

Oh yes, it’s definitely raspberry season.  We arrived yesterday and first thing I did was to scud up to the top vegetable bed and pick and pick and pick. I haven’t weighed them, but it’s around two more kilos.

And then down to the soft fruit orchard for a bit of variety in the breakfast bowl; black currants, white currants, some blue berries and a few strawberries.  Now where’s that greek yoghurt?

Oh, and I almost forgot. I dug up half a small row of Charlotte potatoes too.  The first of the year and they were divine. Simply boiled and served with fresh mint and a splash of olive oil.  We ate dinner on the terrace listening to the bird song, marvelling at the view and tucking into everything on the plate made from the garden apart from the meat.  Fresh stir fried cabbage (wtih dried cranberries and pine nuts and chillies – not from the garden) and new potatoes.  And for dessert, home made lemon ice cream and, you guessed it, fresh raspberries.

Well that was fun: raspberries, cherries and peas. Anotehr cool and rather overcast day. And even a bit of rain.  But time is running out and I need to harvest.

The raspberry haul is huge: well over two kilos I think. And there will be lots more on Thursday afternoon when we get back.  I am freezing the batches on oven trays so they won’t spoil. That’s what you notice about real raspberries – over in a day. 

The same can’t be said of our cherries – they look tough as boots.  I’m only picking for jam right now.  The juicy black ones didn’t produce well on our trees this year.  And the wild ones of the bright red variety are still a bit tart.

I’m not sure what I will do while I’m pitting them. It would have been ideal to sit outside in the sunshine under the vines.  But this is more early spring weather than mid June.  And the ocassional cherry tends to explode with juice over any near surface when I’m pitting. So you have to choose your location carefully.

The good news is that the freezer is about to be plugged in ready for the next big bumper harvest.  There will be peas a plenty next week.  And broad beans.  And if I am brave on the ladder to reach the higher echelons – more cherries.

Right, pea picking over while I watch the rugger. My brother Bean texted me from the stadium in Sydney to remind me it was starting.