Earning porridge

Nothing beats raking and raking fallen leaves to earn the big bowl of breakfast porridge.

It ‘s so wonderful to be back. And in a mild watery sunshine, it’s heavenly.

We’ve had well over an inch of rain in the past ten days, and the frost has finally sorted the mulberry in the courtyard.

My first job was to get the leaves bagged up and taken down to the leaf mould cage.

These are much juicier leaves than the usual dissicated chestnut ones, so if I mix well, I ought to get leaf mould in about a year or so.

I was naturally on the look out for the small furrry beast from first light.   And he appeared like a ghost as I was raking the last of the courtyard leaves.

No chance of a proper hello; he is keeping his distance and considering whether I am worthy of any attention. My neglect is obviously a sore point. I suspect he actually forgets to be affectionate in between absences.

But for now we are like little two year olds in the sand pit; playing side by side and being companionable, but completely ignoring each other.

I was delighted to find the potting shed in good order (apart from the tell tale droppings of a stone marten on my potting bench) and the winter greens are obviously not on the marten’s agenda.

They are plump and lush and although only yielding a few leaves on each plant, enough to make some tasty and some peppery salad leaves.

No time for gloating however, there are leaves to rake. And chestnut burrs to delicately pick out of the flower beds.