The Violas, a Visit, and some Vegetables
I just love alliteration in the title of a Post, as you've no doubt noticed if you've been following us for a while. And it really does fit what we've got lined up today, too. Well - more or less.
Violas
I've been keeping an eye on Alice's window boxes, on and off. Here's a photo we haven't put up before, of the French Marigolds and Lobelia in mid July.
Click to see larger, or open in a new tab for full size. Yes, I
know I keep saying that, but new readers might not know.
When the Lobelia passed their best, Alice put in some Violas, as you can see below. Awfully pretty, aren't they?
If you want, you can also look at our Posts of 23 March 2013
(Equinox, was it?); 25 April
(Window box watch & Iain Banks update); 14 July
(Sorry. Way behind) and most recently, the one of 27 July
(Bees; blood and beauty) which all feature pictures of the window boxes.
Alice is now wondering just
when to plant the bulbs again. Put them in too early and they catch the frosts: too late and we get nothing to look at for ages. Even a modest gardener has to worry about these little details. Last year's bulbs are sitting patiently in a dark cupboard. I like to imagine they're dreaming about the Spring. Just an old romantic poet at heart, aren't I?
The Visit
We've recently been back to Harvieston.
See what we said about the place when we visitied our eccentric arthropodologist friend there, back in
May 2012.
This is the view up the long driveway from the road. You can just glimpse the front of the house between the trees.
The old manor house, which dates from the 18th century, has an imposing front porch, which is very ancient
looking, although I don't know how old the door itself is. And you can't get in that way nowadays, as I discovered, despite jumping up and down on the handle.
See
Rootschat for some historical discussions and information (six pages worth, a lot of it about genealogy).
It's a Grade C listed building, and the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland
(RCAHMS) holds information about it. But you'll have to visit them to see what they have. Maybe
we will one day.
We spent most of our time outside, admiring the wonderful
arboretum. There are some amazingly big trees that must be incredibly aged.
This one is particularly attractive with its riven trunk, huge branches and thick growth of moss. Don't forget to right click to see
this bigger still.
It's also very attractive to the potential climber. Look where I am! And note the ladder as well.
I'm doing an Andy Goldsworthy impression. What wonderful colours in the leaves!
In fact, I'm going one further than him here, by making
myself an integral part of it.
Andy Goldsworthy started by constructing his artistic pieces in nature,
from nature, then photographing them for his own records. But the photographs themselves are works of art, and make
super books.
Morning Earth has some of his photos online. There are more at a
Digital Catalogue, compiled by Glasgow University.
Alice has got a fascinating DVD,
Rivers and Tides, about him and his creative process. It's one of her favourites.You can see a brief video of him at work on the
BBC Learning Zone.
The ladder was so our friend could climb the tree and pose on the branch for Alice to take "artistic" photos.
His request, I emphasise. I've
CENSORED most of them. You can guess
why. Some people!
He did include me in one of them (which, thankfully, Alice has tactfully cropped).
I certainly wouldn't have come to any harm if we'd fallen. But I wasn't quite so sure about him...
The Veggies
We then proceeded to the allotment. I admired the wonderful giant thistles, only to be told they were actually
artichokes. That's what Lords of the Manor eat for their supper, I assume.
Our host let us help dig up some potatoes. And thereby hangs a tale. He'd planted four different varieties, and wanted us to test and compare them at home.
Before we left, however, he insisted on showing us his latest arthropod pet. It's a baby
Mantis.
No, not
that sort of
bug, as in Grace Hopper's story of historical invention.
This here! A delicate little beastie indeed.
He's also keen on
birdwatching, I gather, and goes off on jaunts into the wild with his binoculars.
Potato Testing
We were supposed to test and compare them for appearance, texture and taste. What fun!
We tried them just plain boiled; then with a little butter, salt and
pepper added; and finally with some grated mature cheddar cheese on top.
The additions sometimes brought out interesting subtleties in the
potatoes themselves. This is me testing numbers 1 and 3 on the right.
Numbers 2 and 4 here. Please note the healthy side salad. Also the tiny
Warm Fuzzy we were given by our dear old friend - it's behind the packet of cheese.
When we'd submitted our report, we would find out what each was actually called.
Guess which one we liked the best! It was number 1. We found it
savoury and herby with the butter, salt and pepper, and
simply heavenly with grated cheese as well. The only problem with these red varieties is that when you boil them, the skins and about a quarter inch of flesh tend to break away. But they taste the same, for all that. Next time we'll try baking or roasting them.
 |
| Winning spud |
The winner was called a
Red Duke of York and holds an Award of Gardening Merit from the Royal Horticultural Society. So there!
Number 2, another red variety, was a Yetholm Gypsy. It was a bit unatractive looking, almost purple, with a rather knobbly skin. But we found it almost as good to eat as the first one.
Number 3 was a Maris Peer, which looked just like any ordinary potato.
Very nice, we wrote. (Just not
heavenly.) And number 4 was the well known Maris Piper, which tasted
delicious, but the skin (which
we keep on, for the vitamins) was rough in texture, and therefore not so pleasant to eat.
What a great day we had, not to mention the gustatory follow-up. What? But we
do mention, right after saying
not to mention. Oh, I give up. The English language defies all logic!
The Trick or Treat stuff goes back to the Medieaval customs of Souling or Wassailing, when the poor folk went from door to door, singing traditional songs and asking for a gift of money or food.
