wild asparagus hunting.

One day, after a particularly large lunch at the Mulinetta, we were taken on a hunt for wild asparagus. Excitedly, and with Faelen asleep in the sling, we scoured up and down the prickly banks for the secretive shoots.  

Normally my visits are in August and the ground is burnt and golden.  Walking after lunch is certainly not advisable, instead siestas are taken, hiding from the sun behind shutters.  This time though, the ground was green, the almond trees were blossoming and we walked for an hour without breaking a sweat or blistering.

Admittedly I didn't find a single shoot.  I am painfully unobservant.  I found several twigs that for an elated moment I thought were asparagus, but ultimately not a single edible morsel.  My mother forgot her glasses, so there was no hope there - I was pretty much just impressed she was able to walk in a straight line!  Consequently my Aunt was solely responsible for the haul - all seven weedy shoots.  Perhaps in a couple months it will be more impressive!

Hardly worth poaching an egg for.

starting to look a lot like autumn.

I have tried this year to not be one of those people that is constantly surprised at the passage of time, but, seriously - the last week of October?  I genuinely don't know when this happened.  I actually found chestnuts on a walk the other day - not big ones, but chestnuts nonetheless.  For the most part I don't actually mind the weeks slipping by but I am a little disappointed that I have had a post in my drafts folder with sea pictures that I have meant to post forever (well, since July) and now I think I have to accept their time has gone!

Bristol is still deceptively green for October especially when you compare it to this picture



taken at the same time last year.  That really was a golden October.  

That is not to say that this one is any less beautiful though...

Looking back through old photographs always makes my mind wander.  Last October, playing in the leaves instead of writing my dissertation, I couldn't have predicted that this October I would be quite so hugely pregnant.  And by next October I will be sharing the season with a nearly one year old child who I can't even begin to imagine!  Reading this Autumnal post on Fritha's blog made me very excited for this future.


Also, I lied, I couldn't let all my seaside pictures go to waste...

spangle galls.

So on my previously mentioned Autumn explore I spotted a lot of these little UFO like shapes on the underside of the oak leaves.  Hundreds and hundreds of tiny little UFOs.  James and I stared at them for a while and figured they might be some sort of insect or moth egg.  
The reality is so much more exciting than just some dumb bug egg - these little discs are Spangle Galls!  
Spangle Galls contain the larvae of a type of Gall Wasp (aka cynipid wasps); these wasps, either whilst an egg or as a larvae depending on the breed, secrete a substance which causes the leaf to reorganise its cells and develop this weird growth which is the perfect environment for the larvae to develop in, all snugly enclosed.
The larvae can then even get the plant to direct more nutrients towards the cells surrounding its moist bedroom - the plant literally delivers food to its door.



How neat is that?!  Some people (cecidologists) spend their lives studying these phenomena and still, very little is known about them!  I am going to have to go gall hunting again some time. 

pregnancy // 35 weeks and white trees.

We just had a three day weekend!  And by we, I clearly mean James, but despite my hardcore seven-day-weekender status, I was still excited.  A whole three days off meant that James finally caught up on enough sleep to be convinced to go on a small explore around the new neighbourhood.  
Despite living only about a mile out from central Bristol I am constantly impressed by how much outside space there is.  Like, proper actual real life outside space, with birds and bugs and stuff.  I know Bristol isn't huge as cities go but it is still pretty impressive - Cardiff had large, well cultivated parks but nowhere you could walk without threat of being hit by a frisbee.



This is Eastwood Farm Nature Reserve; apparently it used to be the last dairy farm within Bristol City limits but it closed in 1971.  I didn't know this pre-exploring, I was just impressed with the white trees - which, after ~20minutes with my Complete Guide to British Trees and a lot of googling, I think are White Poplar trees.  They looked strangely frosty on such a sunny day.



and here, snuck in at the end is a glamourous shot of James (chivalrously carrying my handbag) and one of me and bump.  James tried to take a couple pictures but the ordeal was curtailed by my minor strop which included a few hormonal tears and a balanced, well constructed argument about my large size and the likelihood that if I was to require medical attention in the near future, the emergency services would have to demolish the door and winch me out using a series of pulleys and ropes.  I may have over-reacted.  Especially as now I quite like the picture he took.

Arnos Vale: a secret world of Victorian graves.

When James and I moved into this area, we knew nothing about it, it was a gamble based on the only house we could afford to rent that had both a roof and panes glass in the window frames but we have really landed on our feet.  

But since moving to Bristol I have had a lot of time on my hands.  James works ridiculous hours and I no longer have the luxury of all my nearest and dearest residing on the doorstep.  I am finding it temptingly easy to sink into the habit of hermitude, since my first cabin-fevered week, unpacking with minimal human contact, I realised that the huge expanse of free-time I am lucky enough to have pre-baby should be better utilised.  At some point in Cardiff I think I forgot how to do things by myself. 

So I have been consciously making the effort to do things by myself instead of waiting for company.  Every day I have set myself something to do that, in a past life, I would have waited until someone had time to accompany me.  
From this, I have developed a true love for Arnos Vale, my favourite place in this new area.  Less than five minutes from my front door is 45 acres of Victorian Cemetery, surprisingly hidden in the centre of busy city.  Not since my 'goth' phase (aged approximately thirteen and three quarters and involving too much borrowed eye liner and an oversized spiked dog collar) have I considered a cemetery a fun place to hang out but Arnos Vale is something else.  There is nothing maudlin or morbid about it, it has fallen back to nature and is an overgrown wilderness of ivy, trees and graves.  Walking in is like entering a cobweb, endless winding paths stray and interconnect, occasionally I convince myself I have accidentally left the grounds only to spy more graves in the undergrowth.

Every few days since moving in I have gone to walk around the grounds and I have yet to take the same route twice.  I can't decide which is more magical, the fallen graves or the abundant growing life.

harvest time and moving time.

The big news is, on Saturday, James and I will be moving into our new house in Bristol.  I am so excited to have everything back out of storage and start again the challenge of making another rented house somehow our own.  I can't wait to have my own kitchen again and to set up a nursery for Bump and, most of all, I can't wait till James isn't commuting 2+ hours every day to work and we will have some time to spend together in the evenings!

But I am sorry to be leaving the family home again.  It has been a squeeze -  six (sometimes seven or eight if the girlfriends/boyfriends stay) in a small cottage with one bathroom has occasionally been a little chaotic - but it has also been so good.  I mean it has been pretty perfect being able to reap the rewards of a bountiful garden despite having put in none of the legwork first, not to mention waking up daily to the sound of chickens!  Mostly though it has been so good to spend actual time with my mum and her partner despite their insane workloads; it has been so good to just be here and be with family again.  I am going to miss this small, bustling house badly.



Moving news aside, these pictures are of the latest haul from the garden.  The courgette plants are finally starting to die back but it would appear they won't leave without one last push.  And the beans, well they certainly aren't going to be stopping any time soon!  It is incredible that such a small space can produce so much.



The Curly Kale has however failed to thrive.  Three guesses from the picture below who is responsible (and the first two don't count)!



Cheeky things.

I am going back now to sit in the garden; with only a few evenings left here I can't afford to spend them inside!

blackberry pickers' paradise.

I am still without access to a computer but, quite smugly, I have figured I can upload photos straight to Flickr from my phone.  Here, unedited, are moments from my morning, proving unequivocally that August is coming to an end and that Autumn is just waiting to pounce.

I cannot believe how many blackberries there are this year, most of them are so bloated that they just crumble under my fingers as soon as I touch them.  Every morning when I take the dogs out I pick and pick until either the pot is full or the dogs get too bored and start whining, I have come nowhere close to clearing the crop.  This morning I walked with my mother and we picked over a kilo in ten minutes - the poor freezer is groaning at the seams.

My fingers are stained purple and my arms are covered in scratches, I know deep down we don't need any more blackberries, yet I know that tomorrow morning, like every morning, I won't be able to resist their sugary lure!

Ten for the weekend: the sea edition.

I spent the last week visiting James' family in Cornwall.  James' childhood was spent by the sea and the minute we drive past the Welcome to Cornwall sign, the conversation tends not to stray from rock pools, tide times and rip currents.  Once we arrive at his mother's house I barely have time to put the bags in the house before I get chivied back into the car and we are on our way to the coast.  
Whilst he spends hours in the water, I get time to potter up and down the beach or explore the headlands, collecting treasures and taking pictures.  If it is raining (this is the UK after all) I tend to try and find shelter in beach caves or (more commonly) small cafes and read my book whilst I wait for him to return.

1. reading Dr Zhivago on the sand 2. trying to figure out which black speck is James 3. the yellow headland 4. more yellow headland 5. a small companion made on a walk 6. small companion decides against new friendship 7. wild grasses 8. the biggest raven I have ever seen 9. hungry gulls (an older picture as I only had nine whilst compiling this post) 10. unreal wild flowers