Hot Chocolate!

Alice got cold and wet when out walking the dogs! Photo taken last Spring when she was staying here.

Loudon Wainwright III Be Careful, There's a Baby in the House

This specially for B and for R.

Blue Hills, or the Romantic Myth

Sometimes hills really ARE blue. These are not remembered, they're seen every day. You can even make a long journey to the other side of the Solway Firth to actually visit them, the hills of Dumfries and Galloway. Of course, if you travel to these distant hills, when you get there they don't look blue and there is nothing romantic about them. They are grey and rocky, covered in sheep and heather. But you can climb them, pant and sweat to the top-most cairn, stand and take in the panoramic view, echelons of hills and ranges stretching away endlessly to the west. Or turn to the east, and look back across the Firth to where you've come from, the blue and misty Lakeland fells standing sentinel on the horizon, mysterious and unattainable......So, where does that leave memory and imagination?

Bren's progress

Bren's registered kennel name, Skelrah Eid, was chosen by the breeders; apparently they spent a holiday in Norway last year and decided to call all the puppies in the litter after Norwegian waterfalls! Six day in, and Bren is doing fine. He's a remarkably calm and phlegmatic little beast, although he enjoys a romp with Sam and is very sociable with people and dogs he meets when out and about. I keep trying to get a good picture of him, but he's so densely black that it's hard to see his features - unlike Sam, who is delightfully photogenic! So much so, that as soon as I produce the camera he goes into 'posing' mode, waiting patiently until he hears a click.
In the second photo, Bren has nabbed the chew and Sam is waiting until he gets bored and drops it - Sam, of course, has his own chew, but the point of the game is to compete for possession of the SAME chew. Whereas Bren's tactic is to jump up and try to snatch it from Sam, Sam prefers the waiting game.

Introducing Skelrah Eid (Aka Bren (Brendon)

The newest addition to the family, Bren, is ten weeks old. He's distantly related to Sam and was bred at a farm in the south of Cumbria. Although he only arrived yesterday, he's settled in amazingly well and is already Sam's new best friend. Puppies leaving their mums and siblings for the first time usually tend to protest loudly on their first night away; Bren took it all in his stride and not a sound was heard all night - actually, he was probably too exhausted by the day's excitement to protest. He has made his first appearance on the Sea Brows, to general admiration.

The Brown House Garden - June

Looking eastward, the wall is lower than on the other sides of the garden, where they are all about 18 feet high. Living up to her name, Maigold is a reliable May-flowerer here and goes on looking fresh and vigorous for weeks and weeks. Growing alongside is an old Rosa rugosa, skirted by catmint. All these plants do remarkably well, considering the amount of shade they get in the morning from a vast sycamore.

Here is Echium pininana 'Pink Fountain', also known as Tower of Jewels and Pride of Teneriffe. This was its first flowering here, after succumbing to winter weather for several years. A real show-stopper for visitors to the garden this year!

Earlier in the season, when it became clear that the echium really was, finally, going to flower, Tim explained some of its botanical properties to Sam, who was most interested.

Taking Life Easy

Sam couchant on a clump of Campanula portenschlagiana. It's a stury plant, which happily spreads and self-seeds; it'll have cerulean blue flowers soon - IF we can get a look at them!

The Brown House Garden, May Day 2007

Gravelled paths make a winding walk between raised beds bounded by low sandstone walls. There are few brightly-coloured flowers in The Brown House Garden, although in June some of the roses will make quite a show. There are only 'old' roses - i.e. those dating from before about 1920. They are usually not long-lasting, and flower only once, but their beauty and scent far outweigh these disavantages.

The picture on the right shows the bright chrome-yellow heads of Euphorbia polychroma, which is quite unusually brilliant in the context of this garden. Behind it is a clump of almost black-flowered hellebores which until last week, when the hellebores faded, made the most remarkable colour combination. Mostly, it's the contrast between multifarious greens and the variety of textures and shapes which make the biggest impact in this small walled garden.

Brocklebank Banchor

After the death of our German Pointer, Hunter, just over two weeks ago, the plan was to wait until later in the year before acquiring another dog. HOWEVER - last week an advertisement appeared in the local rag: Yellow labrador, 7 months old, needs re-homing (for good reasons.) Tim went to look and was impressed. (I'd say 'smitten' actually.) Sam, as he's known familiarly, has a very superior pedigree. (For labrador officianados, he's from the Drakeshead line of champion working dogs.)

He'd had a somewhat checkered career in his brief life, having been sold on by the initial owners to the people we bought him from. They, apparently, wanted to use him as a stud dog eventually, then changed their minds and decided to sell him. Thankfully, he seems not to have been too traumatised. He's friendly and eager to please - a little timid but clearly extremely happy to be here. One picture shows him in the indoor 'kennel' he has selected for himself - the knee-hole of Tim's desk, clutching the chew which is SUPPOSED to discourage him from chewing anything else! It's not the most convenient place from Tim's point of view, but he's managing. Note that the other picture proves that, once again, I've failed in my attempts to keep dogs off quilts. (Labs like to be comfortable.)

Later this year, another dog will probably join Sam as company for him - if another one as delightful, and as delightfully easy to live with, as Sam can be found.

Hunter ('Hunny') 1992 -2007

The Priest's Garden, 4th April

The priest lives at The Priory, on the opposite side of the big, cobbled square from The Brown House. The garden was once tended by a priest who loved and took great pride in it. When he retired, maybe six or seven years ago, it was left to get wild and overgrown. The 'new' priest is supportive and encouraging, although not a gardener. Two years ago, Tim dig some clearing and planting but had to give it up - no time. Now, with the (occasional) help of some members of the congregation, I try to keep it at least weeded and will do some more planting this year.

But this north-facing bed against the church was a depressing sight when I began to think about getting back into the garden this week - most of what I put in last year seems not to have survived. The garden is mostly, resolutely, east-facing and very exposed to winter winds so that's not surprising. Also, the soil is poor and exhausted now as no fertisliser has been used for years - apart from the buckets of stable manure I spread about this morning! In fact, adding fertiliser is my main project this spring.

The other, east-facing, bed was planted densely with things like balotta, rosemary and hebes and looks much better. The up-side to the exposure problem is that this bed gets lots of summer sun. The best, south-facing bed is entirely overgrown with weeds and brambles which I'll try to kill before they get mature.

The Aged Beast Takes a Sunday Stroll

A Sunday stroll on a fine Spring morning. Low tide. Blue haze of sky and sea. Skylarks larking and calling above

Wordsworth's River Duddon

I offer this 'Thought' to all who write, or make, or aspire to do either:














‘Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go
Through love, through hope and faith’s transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.’
Wordsworth: The River Duddon. Afterthought

On Carrock Fell

Sunday, 18th February. These gentle, almost featureless fells, outliers to Skiddaw to the south east, have their own beauty. For one thing, lacking the drama and rugged character of the high fells, they are much less visited. They are lonely and remote, demanding no heroic feats of the walker but affording rare peace and tranquility. You can walk for miles, thinking your own thoughts, taking your own time, and never see another soul - unlike the fells round Keswick or Ambleside, for example, where you may be just one more in a long lines of other walkers, all panting and struggling to achieve a summit.

This is a view to the West - the thin blue line on the horizon is the Solway Firth.

Pointer and Poppies

The Aged Beast - Hunter (Hunny) in the summer time.(2005)

February 6th 2007

On Sale Fell, above Bassenthwaite Lake. Beyond, the outline of the foothills of Skiddaw.

"Mountains are the beginning and the end of all natural scenery." (Ruskin)

Winter Morning

The view West across the Solway Firth, to the hills of Dumfries and Galloway. Low tide.

A Working Arrangement

This is one corner of my workroom - but I know where everything is, honest!

The Whale Looks Forward to Spring