Monday, 27 June 2016


It's summer holidays and there are tummies to fill. That lovely (healthy) carrot soup I made for lunch won't hold them for long. Time to bring out the Brownies and hope that does the trick... 

P.S I use a recipe from the Hummingbird Bakery (see it here but reduce the sugar by 100g as it's too much)

Tuesday, 21 June 2016

land or water

My early morning walk can go one of two ways - land or water. Turn right at our gate and within ten minutes we'll be at the lake-shore with only the birds and insects for company. Take a left instead and we can walk for miles along lanes heavy with the sounds of bees among the honeysuckle. It is windy and cool. Almost like early autumn instead of high summer. In fact the wind has rustled off quite a number of leaves and the roadside is strewn with them. The clouds have been hanging low over the fields for days, giving the impression that there will be thunder. The rush and noise of silage time has finally been eclipsed by more usual somnolent countryside rhythms and we heave a sigh of relief.

Friday, 17 June 2016

7pm supper

Image of 7pm Supper by kate borrett
7pm supper by Kate Borrett

I can't be the only person to loose time when it comes to the summer slips away so easily and suddenly it's 7pm and we haven't eaten. But we're nearly finished school and then time becomes that bit less meaningful as there's no routine to set our clocks to and hey, who cares if supper is late?

Artwork to be found at The Edition shop here

Tuesday, 7 June 2016


Down to the lake we go. Kevin and the boys swim while Mide and I scout along the lake-shore looking for water birds. He doesn't swim yet so we paddled and he poured water from the bucket endlessly filling and emptying it. I am hoping that bit by bit we will encourage him to enjoy the water. We are lucky, it's early yet and so no-one else is here. Only the swans and dragon flies and whatever swims beneath share in our adventures.

Monday, 6 June 2016


The lanes are frothed with sweet scented cow parsley and from the fields the noise is of many gentle bovine breaths, the buzzing of insects on the wing and birdsong. The lane is dusty and in some places dappled with shade, everywhere leaf and green is bursting forth and the trees are turning their faces to the sun. The garden has exploded and the bees fly low dusted with pollen from a thousand flowers. Summer afternoons are spent in the garden, work barely done as the endless call of outdoors proves too hard to ignore.