Third harvest

A bit earlier than the traditional Samhain (or Halloween) third harvest, I gathered the last produce from the garden for this season.


Jerusalem artichokes (one tub's worth - 2 tubers planted) and the last butternut squash. I had one fruit each on the 2 butternut squash vines, so I'm not sure growing them is really worth the garden space - especially compared to the long-seasoned courgettes which are from the same family. Having said that, at least the butternuts can make a full meal... The single patty-pan squash plant produced a few fruits, but as they're so tiny I could only add them to stews with other vegetables.

Here's a recipe for a yummy butternut squash and apple soup. Don't be afraid, the apple tartness adds to the flavour and lifts this soup from the realm of ordinary autumn fare to the sublime!

Fry a few slices of streaky bacon or pancetta in a pot. When crispy, remove the bacon and add about a pint of boiling water to the grease in the pot, chunks of butternut squash (peeled, seeds removed), a peeled and cored cooking apple (acidic, rather than sweet, but any old apple will do, really), and salt and pepper. When the squash has softened, remove from heat and blend smooth. Check for seasoning, and serve with crumbled crispy bacon on top. Yum!

Oh, on the subject of (f)artichokes (very tasty parboiled then roasted with a pork loin) - my lips are sealed. ;)

Winter basket

The petunias in the summer basket died even before the first frost, which appeared quite early this year. Here is the winter basket, containing pansies "Purple and White" (yes, that is the name of this variety. Profound.), ivy and a small photinia cutting.

The past, the future and good friends

Where I grew up, there was no garden. We had a couple of balconies, and my mum filled them with pots and troughs of colourful flowers. There was a playground between the blocks of flats, with a bit of grass around the concrete paving and a few evergreen shrubs dotted here and there. The year after the building work finished and we moved in, the council finished the landscaping and planted a young silver birch sapling. That tree grew with us kids, and as we matured so did the birch; the tips of its upright branches now almost reach the top of the 4-storey buildings surrounding it. It is known that silver birches attain maturity around 40 years of age, and can live for 90, sometimes even up to 150 years. Seeing that I am now "around" 40, I sometimes wonder which of us is going to outlive the other...

Although we have dispersed throughout the world, I still keep in touch with some of the friends I grew up with, around that silver birch. But sometimes they still surprise me! For my recent birthday I received a package from the States, containing (in addition to a marvellous cookbook) a collection of seed packets from the Jefferson Monticello plantation near Charlotesville. Apparently, the plantation has some of the most beautiful and special flowers and plants that Thomas Jefferson, one of the Founding Fathers of the US, collected on his travels or from friends. It certainly sounds like a place I would love to visit one day! Thank you so much, I., P. and little A.! :))

Here is a little picture with the germs of the future:


In the middle are the Monticello seed packets from the US (allowing me not to buy any more ornamental plant seeds for a couple of years); the tulip bulbs I bought on a recent Amsterdam trip; the clay pots are filled with crocus bulbs and winter flowering white cyclamen; the black pot contains an olive tree sapling that was growing in a friend's garden in Nice, France, and which he generously gifted us; there's a little envelope in the bottom right corner with my mum-in-law's nasturtium seeds. The future is likely to be bountiful, indeed.

Or, in words of my favourite Zen teacher - master Oogway from Kung Fu Panda:
Yesterday's history
Tomorrow's a mystery;
Today is a gift. That's why we call it present!