The heat of the day
Somewhere along the way Spring stepped back and Summer moved gently into place. The days have grown warmer and the light is softer. The acid greens and yellows of Spring replaced by colours already bleaching out gently in the sunlight.
Suffolk's wide skies sit blue above fields of pale golden wheat and barley. The intense yellow of the rape has gone and the roads are lined with long grasses in pale shades of green and gold, the grass seed heads whisper to the gently nodding cow parsley. Scarlet poppies punctuate the golden fields, so much beauty there to see.
There are roses everywhere. Climbing around doorways, framing windows and scrambling through hedgerows. The woods where I walk have changed so much, Spring's damp, green fresh light replaced by stillness. There is a feeling of heat and laziness; it is lovely to leave the dry, dusty paths and venture deeper under the canopy where it is blessedly cool and quiet.
Today I picked elderflower as I walked, destined for cordial. The distinctive scent mixes with the oily zest of oranges and lemons. My kitchen is filled with possibilities, cherries are ripening in the garden and the potatoes are so, so close. It's a very good time of year.
I plan to gather more elderflower soon, but this time for champagne. I am somewhat anxious now that Google has filled my eyes with tales of exploding bottles and syrupy drinks. Any tips gratefully received.
Somewhere along the way Spring stepped back and Summer moved gently into place. The days have grown warmer and the light is softer. The acid greens and yellows of Spring replaced by colours already bleaching out gently in the sunlight.
Suffolk's wide skies sit blue above fields of pale golden wheat and barley. The intense yellow of the rape has gone and the roads are lined with long grasses in pale shades of green and gold, the grass seed heads whisper to the gently nodding cow parsley. Scarlet poppies punctuate the golden fields, so much beauty there to see.
There are roses everywhere. Climbing around doorways, framing windows and scrambling through hedgerows. The woods where I walk have changed so much, Spring's damp, green fresh light replaced by stillness. There is a feeling of heat and laziness; it is lovely to leave the dry, dusty paths and venture deeper under the canopy where it is blessedly cool and quiet.
Today I picked elderflower as I walked, destined for cordial. The distinctive scent mixes with the oily zest of oranges and lemons. My kitchen is filled with possibilities, cherries are ripening in the garden and the potatoes are so, so close. It's a very good time of year.
I plan to gather more elderflower soon, but this time for champagne. I am somewhat anxious now that Google has filled my eyes with tales of exploding bottles and syrupy drinks. Any tips gratefully received.
Comments
(Love your blog, this is the first time I've sent a comment but I've been lurking for a while).
Funny I just came here from Norma's blog (nownorma.com) and her tutorial for rose petal jam. You could always try that if the champagne scares you off. Good luck and here's to non- sticking surfaces everywhere.
regarding your champagne - my best advice from past experience is to use propper champagne bottles with the raised bottom, and put a wire champagne cage over your cork!
I Have been trying to find a clip from a TV programme made in 1994 - called 'love on a branch line' it was a wonderful period drama but in this particular scene 2 of the characters are locked in the wine celler and one is quite drunk - he talks about making elderflower champagne and when to pick the flowers - it was such a pasionate and dreamy speach, and I would love to hear it again.
Kath
x
For the champagne, I am sorry, I´ve never made it. And I also had to apologize for not having replied to your comment at Flickr, I have only 2 days ago seen it and noticed that one could do comments (yes, I am really stupid in such things) - so thank you very much, it made me smile, love your kind of humour!
I'm so very, very glad that you found me . . . for I am delighted to discover you in turn. I've been in the garden all morning, watering and weeding and making bouquets of rose, tarragon and fennel, and I was thinking such similar thoughts -- about the colors starting to fade and bleach out. It is truly and properly hot -- for once. And the roses are at their peak . . . I have one rose, against, a trellised wall, that is at its absolute fullness today.
I love getting up every morning and discovering what has bloomed in the early morning sun. We just got our first red poppies a couple of days ago . . . just after I read another Suffolk friend (Chez Spud) waxing lyrical about them. Until you mentioned it, I hadn't realized that the rape had gone. And the bluebells! I never notice them fade, and then one day they are just gone and May has become June. Have you ever read The Ivington Diaries by Monty Don? It has the most beautiful descriptions of seasonal ebb and flow. It could convince anyone to become a gardener!
p.s. I didn't post anything about elderflower cupcakes . . . but I do have a foodie blog called domestic sensualist.
I got my map out and reminded myself where Suffolk is :)
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