Gardening Therapy

With the EU referendum resulting in a Leave majority (by less than 4% of votes cast, which shows just how divided the country is, and doesn't seem like a good basis for a major decision - but then, I voted Remain and doubt I would have said that had the vote gone the way I wanted!), it has been an emotional and eventful end to June.

It's a shame the weather is so changeable - it normally starts to rain at midsummer here, but it started early this year. The occasional fine days are interspersed with several days of showers and rain. When the sun comes out, I have been getting in some gardening therapy. I am slowly clearing the grass and potting up plants worth saving, some for a couple of friends to add to their gardens. As the fine days are few and far between, they are also laundry days, which makes working on the herb-bed-to-be (partly under the washing line) a little challenging.

Since my last post only a few weeks ago, the garden seems to have gone completely rampant and looks like an ungrazed meadow, which is essentially what it is. That cats have been loving sitting or lying in the long grass as I work, creating tunnels where they've been hiding, which turn into great, lodged sheets of grasses in the rain.

I have had to start a free-standing compost heap which is at least the size of one of the compost bins now. The plan is to dig out bin #3 into the top of bin #1, turning and aerating it. I'm just (still!) waiting for both bins to settle; they don't appear to have done much in the past few weeks. When I dug out bin #1 in May, the top went into bin #2 and is roughly the same age as the stuff at the bottom, but there is a filling of more recent stuff in the middle, so that will benefit from being dug out and turned into bin #3. I've just started to use an accelerator in the bins and the new heap, hoping to speed things up a bit. Then some of the free-standing heap can go into bin #2. As things are going, I'm going to have to start a second free-standing heap very soon!

Before tackling the compost bins, I was waiting for the Early Bees to finish with their nest, which they did a couple of weeks ago. A lack of buzzing and visitors made me take a look, and all that was left was a matted handful of composting grasses and soggy pollen. When I first discovered the nest, I had to wait a while to spot one or two bees visiting flowers. A few weeks ago, it was easy to see three or four at a time. Now I can sit and count half a dozen or more at a time working over the clumps of Campanula portenschlagiana and C. poscharskyana (I decided it wasn't C. garganica, based on the height and length of the sprawling stems of flowers) which they are completely mad for. It may be a garden thug, but the bees just love it. The odd honey bee and a few other bees visit as well, including one of the white-tailed bumble-bees. Their gentle buzzing lulls me into somnolence as I rest on the swing-seat between bouts of digging and potting-up. Despite the noise from neighbours' lawnmowers and various power tools, it's been lovely just to sit and watch, as I follow the advice to 'sit down before I need to' so that I can work without too much pain. Drink in hand, planning my next spot of work, watching life going on around me, is all very relaxing.

Mr Blackbird has been neglecting his preening as he feeds a chick. The Jackdaws in my chimney fledged. The first two chicks came out and begged for food from next door's roof. A couple of young Magpies joined them, evidently not bothered about who fed them, although the Jackdaw parents were not about to do any such thing. There were confused looks all round (if it's possible for birds to look confused) until the Magpie parents came and called their two away. The youngest Jackdaw chick emerged a few days later. A terrific rumpus from several Jackdaw families alerted me to the chick which, unable to fly very well, was hopping and fluttering around the patio, trying to gain some height. I rescued it from the curious cats and went to let it out of the landing window so it could fly off with the rest of the family. Having calmed down, it perched very happily on my finger while I gave it a quick check over, stroking and speaking softly to it. Even once the window was open, it just sat, sharp claws marking my finger as I tried to cajole it onto the window ledge. As I murmured sweet nothings, it watched me with its aquamarine eyes and cocked its head from side to side. The family came back onto the neighbour's roof, calling, and it flew off to join them. The sparrows squabble and twitter, teasing the cats, until Greebo could stand it no longer and caught a chick, which I then rescued from him and released into an inaccessible part of the privet hedge. On another day, a Sparrowhawk descended out of the sky and crashed into the other privet hedge to catch a sparrow. No warning - no alarm calls or mobbing from the other birds, it made the cats and I jump out of our skins. One of the neighbours told me there was a Sparrowhawk around, but it's the first time I've seen it.

The other poppy also turned out to be red.
The Geranium from behind the shed looks like G. macrorrhizum 'Album'.
I found a label constricting the base of another rose (planted too close underneath the lilac) which identified it as Scarlet Queen Elizabeth. I remember it being a bright vermilion-orange-pink last year, so the label at least makes sense!
The rose near the patio is definitely not R. glauca. It has clusters of small (5-7 cm) semi-double, flowers, mid pink in bud,  the heart-shaped petals opening to show golden-yellow stamens in the centre and fading almost to white as they age. There is little scent, but with so many flowers open, there are wafts of light rose scent on the breeze. I've looked at all of my rose books and on a few websites to try to identify the rose, but it seems to be having an identity crisis itself. It seemed to be low-growing, but there are also a few metre-high, red-stemmed shoots, one with darker, matt leaves, one with lighter, one quite red. These look like suckers, and there's a flower coming on the tip of one of them. Depending on how tall the shoots grow, whether they are from the same rootstock, and whether I can free the plant from the encroaching grass and brambles without digging it up, it could stay where it is.

The bramble bashing I did last year seems to have stimulated growth, with small shoots coming up all over the place and growing fast from roots deep down.
The first wild strawberries are ready, their small, intensely-flavoured fruit a real treat. The other strawberries are showing a flush of colour; with this wet weather, it will be a case of racing the slugs to see who can get them first!
The rain has flattened the Alchemilla mollis (Lady's Mantle), the Chartreuse green froth of flowers flopping untidily across the path and needing to be cut back. It's only a matter of time before I cut back the sprawling Campanula, as well. They're both lovely, but the thought of all the seeds!

I brought some Common Figwort (Scrophularia nodosa) with me from the farm, and found a Water Figwort (Scrophularia auriculata) growing in the gravel bed. (See, the soil really is damp!) Taller (1.5 metres/5 feet high!), with bigger clusters of larger, dark red flowers, nice, broad, green leaves on red, winged stems, it looks 'garden-worthy'. It makes the Common Figwort look like a weed, and I've found a few nurseries who actually sell a variegated form of the Water Figwort. For some reason, the bees aren't attracted to the flowers at all, but wasps are. Neither fit with the plans for the garden, so they can go.

The amount of rain we've had recently meant that I did very little digging on the last fine day we had, because the soil was so wet. Investigating strange sounds like someone trying to break into one of my next door neighbours, I found that they had decided to lift their patio.  They were happy for me to 'reclaim' some of the paving, rather than have to take it all to the tip themselves, so I stacked 10 dozen x 12" (30 cm) square concrete paving slabs on my drive ready for reuse in my garden. The slabs are heavier than they look, so I really feel as though I've worked out, and it feels great to be able to reuse a load of paving for free, so I owe next door at least some beers!

According to a recent report from the BBC, there is a 'growing body of research that suggests gardening is good for both physical and mental health' and that 'pilot schemes for GPs to prescribe gardening are under way'. I would have thought it's obvious; gardening provides exercise, relaxation and an outlet for creative expression and being close to the beauty of flowers, plants and garden wildlife feeds the soul. In these politically uncertain and economically volatile times, we could all use some gardening therapy!

Back into the Garden

It seems unreal that I have now been here for just over a year. And I am still unpacking, cleaning and sorting (albeit with varying degrees of energy and dedication to the task!) Now that the weather has improved and, in meteorological terms at least, it's Summer, I've been getting back into the garden. I am enjoying even the smallest fix of pulling a weed, potting on or emptying the compost trug and watching things grow.

I started digging over the front garden on a fine day in March, but the soil was still wet and claggy. With the amount of soft rush, pendulous sedge, milkmaids and buttercups which have volunteered themselves as I've left the 'lawn' to grow, (not to mention the way that water pools on the farm fields behind me), it's evident that this was once damp meadow. The digging being way too heavy going, I contented myself with pruning and tying in the rose by the porch. It had been pulled down by some of the winter winds, and I thought the roots had been broken, but only one root was damaged. It responded to this rough treatment by sending up another strong shoot from the base, which is now over a metre high, with lots of flower buds and great big triangular thorns. It may not be scented, but it's quite a tough rose.

As everything started to grow rampantly, I decided I had better transfer my attention to the back garden. I have lots of herbs in pots, waiting to go into the 'herb garden', which is based on a roughly half-oval arc, the base of which is the patio wall, and centred on the rotary washing line. (The fight I had restringing that line is a saga in itself!)

The lilac flowered beautifully in mid-May and the scent was lovely. Every time I took a trugful of bits to the compost heap, I held an armful of branches and inhaled deeply. I went out to cut some for the house, but got a bit distracted by its colours. Looking down from the bedroom, it looked mid-purple in bud, opening to a paler lilac, but close to, the buds had a dusky pink tint as well. It's a shame it's so out-of scale and in the way for any work to be done on the hedge and fence.

The drifts of strap-shaped leaves are up again. The sharp, keeled leaves which I thought were pendulous sedge (because sedges have edges) are indeed that and are all over the place. As I started digging, I found some of the strap-shaped leaves looked different to the ones I've decided are probably Crocosmia, and end in tubers rather than corms, so it seems likely that these are Day Lilies. Of the two oriental poppies which managed to send up leaves last year, one has flowered already and is red, and I am waiting impatiently for the buds on the other plant to open. At some point, I will need to pot them up. It would be better to transfer them to their new home, but I just can't do (or pay to have done) all the necessary work right now. Also to be saved are the Aquilegia. The seedlings skulking in the grass last year have grown into a lovely selection ranging from very dark purple to palest pink. A very small geranium behind the shed has developed a cluster of very pale pink flowers - so I need to look it up as well as pot it up. One of the roses which had been scalped to almost nothing, but grew strongly last year, has clusters of little buds. I thought last year it looked like R glauca, but I'm not convinced; this year's leaves are a fresher green. The first flowers are just opening and they are semi-double, pink, very pretty; I don't know yet if they're scented.

As soon as I started with a bit of daily weeding, compost bin #3 became full and now has about as much as it can take. The contents of bin #1 having sunk down from full to about 30cm/1' of mostly composted stuff at the bottom, I decided to dig it out. Rather than trying to dig the compost out through the little hatch at the bottom of the bin, I just lifted the bin off and removed the top few inches of unrotted stuff into the top of bin #2. (Oh look, there's still some of the woody bits of that rose by the porch, from where I pruned it last year! And lots of seedlings trying to grow - it obviously didn't get as hot as I thought.) A buzzing noise attracted my attention, and I gingerly removed another clump of compost to reveal a bumblebees' nest. I stood still as a few bees came out to see what was going on, then gently transferred the nest to a piece of roofing felt which had come of the shed, folding the rest of the felt over to make a loose tube to keep the nest dry. I put it behind bins 2 and 3. The move seems to have been quite successful; they settled down and are still there. I've taken to saying 'it's only me!' if I disturb them, and they start to buzz and whine. They seem to pipe down again. I spent some time watching for individuals to come out to visit the flowers. Facebook was full of exhortations to allow dandelions to flower as a food source for bumblebees, and this year I had hordes of dandelions (the soil is probably full of seeds!) and didn't manage to dead-head all of them, but noticed that the bees couldn't care less about them, and visited any other type of flower first. Now the garden thug Campanula poscharskyana is flowering (and I have some C. portenshlagiana as well) the bees love it, so I've managed to get a good look at them. They are Early Bumblebees, Bombus pratorum, small and sweet. However, several individuals today were covered with mites. I don't want to disturb a nest whenever I dig out a compost heap, so I'm wondering about some sort of pre-made nest site for them.

Meanwhile, the compost from the bottom of the bin filled a 60 litre compost bag and is now the base compost for the tomato and courgette plants. The courgette seedlings looked so wimpy that I sowed some more seeds, but after a week or so, they seem to have got their roots heading down into the rich stuff and seem to be creating a new leaf a day.

About a week ago, it was a lovely day, and I spent about six hours of it out in the garden, including plenty of stops to sit and have a drink, surveying my realm from the swingseat (although I still really ached the next day). I managed to dig over a strip 50 cm x 2 m; not very much really, as I found a hard pan about 10 cm down and really had to lean on the fork and wiggle it back and forth to break through. I'm hoping that it's not like that across the garden and only because it was near the path, where it may have been walked on, but I was told that the ground had been compacted a bit. There were also little pockets of compost, where things had been planted at one time (I found a buried label which read 'Happy Mother's Day'), but otherwise it seems to be quite a stony clay-based soil. Given the rampant growth, I would guess it's quite fertile, but there are altogether too many slugs and snails and too few earthworms for my peace of mind. I was expecting the compost I dug out to be full of brandling worms too, but they were very few and small. I'd brought some in some compost from the farm, to give my compost bin a headstart. The latest issue of RHS The Garden magazine came with a card for a New Zealand Flatworm survey. I haven't noticed any, but I shall have a decent look for them, in case they're the cause of the lack of worms. That would be a bit worrying.

Having had a week and a bit of dry weather, it's become changeable again. Oh well, it's nicer to dig on an overcast day than in the blazing sun! The trouble is, compost bin #1 is full, although it will settle down a bit. The bins are (I think) the Ecomax 220 litre type, but only 4 or 5 tub trugfuls fill a bin and they get all my veggie kitchen waste as well as the weeds and the weed-upon wood-based cat litter, which should act as an accelerator. Bin #2 still has quite a lot of work to do. Bin #3 was only started in mid-April and is quite nicely warm. In the meantime, I need to look into some compost accelerators and perhaps start a freeform heap. And carry on digging!

Seasonal Update

Time is doing its thing and I haven't written much yet this year - busy with other things, I suppose.

We often have a period of cool but fine weather in Spring, but it doesn't seem to have happened this year.

It was a mild winter, but although there were only a few frosts (probably because I'm now closer to sea level and the sea), it has been a relatively cold Spring. Storm Imogen in February damaged the garden shed (and those of my next-door and next-but-one neighbours) and tossed an empty compost bin across the garden. Storm Jake at the start of March continued the shed damage and tossed the compost bin across the garden again. We missed the worst of Storm Katie at Easter (an early Easter this year, soon after the equinox). We've had some other very windy times which have not been named storms, although with yellow weather warnings. The Met Office criteria for naming a storm is where there is expected medium or high impact of high winds. The vicious easterlies in the first week of April should have qualified, but strangely, not so. Apart from being very cold, it was also strong enough to move the garden store cupboard, turning it 180 degrees and tossing it onto its side a couple of metres from where it normally stands against the wall of the extension. Fortunately, only one of the ceramic pots stored in the bottom was smashed, although others now have chips in them. At least it didn't take long to pick up and return the rest of the scattered contents.

There were a few fine days in mid March, when I was training as a LIFT leader with Age Cymru and was either inside or otherwise too tired to do much else. One day after training, it was much too nice to go home straight away, so I went for a little stroll down 'Fortune's Frolic', a path by the River Cleddau between Haverfordwest and Uzmaston. It was a sunny but still chilly evening, with happy, smiley people walking happy, waggy dogs. As I got to the first viewpoint, there were a pair of Small Tortoiseshell butterflies flitting around, and a flash of blue as a Kingfisher disappeared up Merlin's Brook.

The river Cleddau is tidal here. It was quite low as I walked to the end of the level riverside path, and sat on one of the benches to enjoy the river. A pair of swans made their way upstream, and a group of 50 or so ducks descended out of nowhere and started to preen and dabble near a shingle bank further downstream. Without binoculars, I couldn't see what they were; I wondered if they could be Widgeon, but they were more likely to be Teal. There was also a pair of Mallard, just getting on with business. Unusual ripples in the water close to the bank below me attracted my attention. The shallows were seething with small fish; the last time I had seen so many was in the river Cèze, in the Cévennes.

April brought a few more sunny but chilly days. I happened to be out and about on the 9th, so took sandwiches down to Gelliswick Bay and was rewarded with the sight of a very low tide.

It wasn't as warm as it looks in the photo! At tides this low, the wooden remains of some wrecked boats can be seen (although not from this photo!) on the rocky point just in front of the oil jetty on the right of the photo. I didn't walk out that far, not having brought footwear (let alone knees!) which could deal with the mud and rocks. I'm not sure what the angular concrete block, whether it's a gun emplacement left over from WWII or some sort of mount for some other bit of ship-related kit. Some visitors use it as a bird table, dumping a pile of stale bread on it and retreating to a safe distance while the gulls descend in a mob to squawk and squabble over their bounty. The other (east) end of the beach has the slipway and yacht club and is overlooked by Fort Hubberston. Built in the 1860s and last used in WWII, it is now disused and derelict. The tide was still retreating when I arrived and after a couple of hours, just before it turned, a JCB with a block and chain in its bucket trundled down the beach to a small cluster of people, and proceeded to put in a new mooring buoy.

Pottering in the garden on the 13th, I saw Peacock, Small Tortoiseshell and Orange Tip butterflies, one of each just passing through the garden, since there's still nothing much of interest for them here. I also saw my first Swallows, although I'd seen a post from a garden centre the other side of Haverfordwest that they had seen their first the week before. Poor Swallows, arriving back in such chilly weather! It occurred to me that perhaps the first sighting of birds, butterflies and so on each year could just be a matter of luck; they happen by when you happen to be looking.I didn't do the Big Garden Birdwatch this year; every time I looked out, there were no birds to be seen!

Where did May go? Ah, yes, I picked up a vile cold in the last week of April and was still trying to get rid of it in mid May! The weather picked up a bit throughout the month, and various boats and yachts have come out of their winter quarters and onto moorings and marinas. It's all starting to look quite summery. Suddenly it's the end of May. I've now been in my 'new' home for a year. And I am STILL gradually unpacking, cleaning and sorting out. Incredible!

Something For Nothing

For the past few years, I have been brooding over the issues of volunteering and the widespread perception that the arts should be free. A while ago, the Universe delivered three items for consideration within the same week: a dancer friend had a well-deserved rant over yet another person who wanted her to put on a show for free, and two Radio 4 discussions, one about whether we have a moral obligation to give a percentage of our income to charity, over and above volunteering or donations to charity shops, and another on whether we owe the arts and artists a living (which was primarily about taxes used to subsidise the arts).

Of course, as a dancer and crafter, I consider the arts as essential and life-enhancing, although I am aware of a few people (mainly men) who are all about sports and couldn't give much of a stuff about anything else. Don't get me started on the emotional blackmail inherent in most charity campaigns, especially those where you are asked to take a no-make-up selfie or film yourself being deluged in a bucket of iced water, and then post the resulting film/photo having paid a contribution. They raise a lot of money, but I notice many people are doing it under peer pressure, to avoid the adverse judgement of their friends and acquaintances. When I become a multi-millionaire, I shall take great pleasure in subscribing to all of the charities which tug at my heartstrings and will buy lots of arty, crafty presents. In the meantime, I mainly give in kind - I source some materials from charity shops, and give the occasional workshop or performance for 'free'. I admit, I do enjoy the 'feel-good' factor brought on by a spot of altruism, and charity events are often very sociable and fun. However, I earn very little and am not eligible for any benefits. Warm feelings are lovely but they don't pay the bills. A girl's gotta live on something, and to give back, you must first have received.

My brooding was originally triggered by another set of three events: there was a fresh round of waffle about the 'Big Society'  in the media, I attended a presentation by the Ceredigion Association of Volunteers, at which they stressed that volunteers should never be left 'out of pocket' but admitted that many charities, understandably, did not pay travel or parking costs if they could help it, then I received a flurry of requests for belly dance entertainment, none of which would pay even travel costs ('we can't afford to pay you but please bring your dancers, you can do it for the exposure/experience and advertise your classes', etc). I expect all dancers and musicians are familiar with this one. It seems that artists are not the only ones - writers and speakers are also expected to be willing to work for nothing.

Why do people think entertainment should be for free? Answer: Because they can usually find someone, somewhere, who will volunteer to do it for free. Occasionally, that includes me. But there is a difference between someone who wants work done for free because they don't really value the training, skills and experience which lie behind it, let alone the costs incurred in terms of travel, equipment, costume and so on (and when it comes to entertainment, don't regard it as work because, hey, you do it for fun, right?), and the third sector charity and not-for-profit organisations who rely on volunteers to be able to get things done.

It's amazing just how much voluntary work goes on and, in some cases, is utterly taken for granted. Last year, I saw a local charity advertising for a qualified accountant to be a voluntary, unpaid, full-time financial and administration officer. I suppose they might have got lucky and found someone qualified but retired and looking for a new interest in life. I also saw a job ad for a full time volunteer for another charity which would involve a lot of local travel, in your own car, for which they paid rather less than the current tax-allowed expenses rate of 45p per mile. Considering the poor state of many of the local roads and the increased wear and tear this causes, it hardly seems fair.

In fact, many people pay for the privilege of volunteering as they incur costs which are seldom, if ever, repaid.  You may give your time for free, but transport between home and a primary place of work is not an allowable tax expense, so you wouldn't usually get travel costs if you are based in one location such as a shop or office. You make some cakes or biscuits for a charity event for free, despite the costs of ingredients and fuel to cook them. You might perform at a charity event, but have to pay a concessionary ticket price for the evening on the basis that you'll be watching the other performers. If you organise an event, you may make phone calls and extra visits to a venue, create posters to advertise it and print them - for free.  Perhaps you buy cheap yarn or fabrics to make stuffed toys or little hats for premature babies. Most of the data collected on wildlife such as birds, butterflies and moths is done by by volunteers, giving their time and expertise, buying their own equipment, paying their own fuel and parking costs. Sadly, all of this support is not generally considered as 'giving to charity'. You do it for love, so it's dismissed as a 'hobby'. But time is money. It would be fascinating to know the total value of casual work done for charities in the UK.

I believe that money isn't everything and you should do what you love. You never know where these things will lead. I've done a few performances where we dancers were well looked after in recognition that we were donating our services while others were donating money, and we've had a wonderful time. I like to barter my workshops for others' workshops or services; giving and receiving time and services in lieu of paying or being paid seems like a fair exchange. Getting something out for putting something in, rather than feeling used, is what makes all the difference.

Last year, I found a local Age Cymru Over 50s gentle exercise class and joined in just so that I could meet some people in my new area. It was very cheap, huge fun, and finished with chat over tea and cakes. As a bonus, it has led to a couple of engagements to talk about belly dance. I was very impressed that the exercises were mostly seated, so properly low impact, safe and effective. The social side is also important, fostering new friendships and support networks. Then I had the opportunity to train as a LIFT (Low Impact Functional Training) leader for Age Cymru, so I took it. I've completed and passed the 4-day course, and also updated my emergency first aid during a volunteer day. The training course was extremely well put together and delivered, with very good supporting materials. I've already covered a couple of classes for other leaders who are on holiday, although I'm still waiting for my pack of props such as exercise bands. I may not be paid for my time, but I get to do something fun which can make a positive difference to people's lives. It's difficult to put a value on that.

Preserving the View from Here

One of the reasons I chose this house was the open view from the back bedroom across the adjacent farm fields (used for grazing horses) and over farmland out towards the Preselis to the north and Freystrop to the east. There may be a general lack of garden birds, but those taking advantage of the closely-grazed and lightly-poached fields provide daily interest, especially the gulls as they do a little dance, stamping their feet to bring worms to the surface. At the start of February, a flock of nearly 200 Lapwings swirled in, glittering in flight as their dark iridescent wings contrasted with white breasts, and settled for a while. I happened to see them while I was doing some housework, so took a photo - the only way I could count them as they moved across the field. I know some come in at night, too, as I hear them calling, although it could just be one or two vocal individuals trying to locate others in the dark.

Last September, I was rather alarmed to learn that there was an outline planning application for housing on the fields between my close and the farm. The application had been made in July, which was why nothing came up when I had my survey done, which showed that the fields were outside the Local Development Plan (LDP) and therefore (theoretically) safe from housing development. However, 'affordable housing' is a hot topic, and can be used as justification for development on an 'exception site', which is the case here. Not that my neighbours and I were copied the planning notice, as we were deemed non-adjacent and therefore not directly impacted, (huh!). This may be the largest village in Pembrokeshire, but it is a village, with two or three generations of families born and still living here, and people are generally friendly and talk to one another. The phrase much used in the Welshries 'mae pawb yn nabod pawb' - everybody knows everybody - is true here in Little England Beyond Wales too. Interestingly, although the need for affordable housing is supposed to be based on known local requirements, nobody I've spoken to knows anyone who would be a candidate.

Looking at the documents available against the planning application online, you would think that it's unlikely to go ahead, with potential issues over whether existing mains sewers and drainage systems can cope with the output and rainfall run-off from additional properties and an objection from Highways over the access to the site. However, local gossip is rather more worrying and the rumour mill has been whirring away. The site access was an issue because in order to be wide enough, the developers would need to purchase some garden from one or both of the bungalows flanking the entrance. If both sets of owners stayed put and refused to sell, it would stop the development, but apparently one set of owners has been so upset by the potential for development that they have sold up ... and their property has been bought by someone with a stake in the development. The bungalows have quite small back gardens, and would be quite overlooked by the proposed two-storey houses and flats.

The land is currently used for equestrian grazing, so it is of low biodiversity value, although there are protected species such as toads, grass snakes and slow worms present (although not found by the ecology 'survey', which was just a quick snapshot). From everything I've read, equestrian grazing is greenfield land, but people have been told that it's a brownfield site, which is harder to defend from development (although the biodiversity value of some brownfield sites is quite astonishing). The proposal to create a new hedgebank on the northern site boundary would actually increase the biodiversity value. The site plan shows the boundary for the 'Phase 1' of 25 'dwellings', but also shows a 'Phase 2' area which would extend to my back fence, without further details and with only an implied boundary on the north side. If Phase 1 goes ahead, there will be nothing to stop Phase 2. Having built on the land, there would be nothing to stop the land becoming part of the local development plan when it is revised in several years' time. And rumour has it that enough land has been bought for there to be a Phase 3 adjacent to Phase 2, which will require a second access road, the obvious place for which will be at the end of my bit of road. There are currently garages owned by the Council, but they could agree to demolish them. Our road is already used for parking along one side and driving along it can be something of a dance, neighbours giving way to each other to proceed or park. It would be impossible if also used for access to another close of houses, besides which, where would all those who currently use the garages park their vehicles? There may be more public transport here than where I was before, but if you want to get to work on time or have any sort of evening activities, you still need a car. I note from the planning application that there is provision for parking for each new dwelling, although you might expect someone needing affordable housing might not necessarily be able to afford a car.

The local development plan includes a couple of other areas for housing development, which would include some affordable housing. There appears to be no progress on those sites. A new local primary school is currently being built on land on the other side of the farm (which was outside the LDP), including additional spaces based on the LDP proposed housing, but not for any additional children from this new proposed development (although most of the new dwellings are one-bedroom, therefore unlikely to need child places). Of course, there is no proposal for expansion to the existing healthcare services at all. Nor is there any plan to cope with additional traffic in and through the village; getting out of the side-roads onto the A road which bisects the village can be a nightmare, requiring patience and luck as you wait for a gap to appear in the almost continuous flow of traffic, or a driver to take pity and let you out.

The problem with the planning system is that it only shows the required applications and reports for the planning application in hand. The objection letters are supposed to be available to view, but I never see them on the online planning portal, possibly because mostly they just contain opinions. Although there are standard requirements for reports from highways, water and drainage, biodiversity and archaeology, there seems to be little consideration of local infrastructure such as healthcare and public transport.

As for gossip and rumour, they feed a hysteria which has given rise to proposals to pay someone expert to speak on behalf of the residents to defend our wishes for the development not to proceed. But gossip and rumour are heresay, and for anyone to defend us effectively, they will need to have hard evidence of the sort that anyone with a vested interest in the development would try to ensure was not publicly available.

So, despite my sympathy for those needing affordable housing  and the theoretical potential to build a more prosperous and thriving community, I am a NIMBY*. If I'd wanted to be overlooked on all sides, have my view of the sky occluded by buildings and my ears assaulted by the sounds of other people's daily lives and heavy traffic, I would have lived in a town or city. Instead, I want to be able to see the horizon and hear the voices of Lapwings in the night.

*Not In My Back Yard, thank you so very  much!

The Windmills of Your Mind

I love the effects of changing light, colours and patterns, whether it's looking at a blue sky through a canopy of gently moving leaves, the sparkle of sunlight on moving water, or even the glitter of sequins and beads on a dancer's costume. In the ongoing effort to get my new office/workroom sorted out, I'm revamping a stack of nesting quadrant boxes by covering them in self-adhesive holographic foil, which will create some bright and beautiful storage on the back corner of my sewing desk. The downside may be that I just sit and gaze at them, mesmerised by the shifting spectra (honestly, I can give it up any time I want to ...). At least my sewing notions will be neatly stored and free from dust and cat hair!

During unpacking, I found a kaleidoscope which I bought to entertain the step-children (well, that was my excuse, although it's not a patch on the tin one I had when I was young. I don't know what happened to that one, probably broken and binned long ago!) There is something fascinating in the way the mirrors create different patterns, no two ever the same. Now I've got a digital kaleidoscope, and can create endless patterns from some of my photos, but the key is finding the right original photo. The kaleidoscopic images from some photos are completely uninteresting or way too messy, while others create such nice patterns that it's difficult to choose. I am quite fascinated by the images and play with them until I feel I've found the right one.

A few years ago, I started creating images for sale on various print-on-demand sites such as RedBubble and Zazzle, but was dithering over whether they were good enough, the sort of images I wanted to create, how to achieve that and various related technical issues. Plus, some of the artwork on these sites is totally awesome, would anyone look at mine? But, to my amazement, a few lovely people have bought items using my images! I realised that it is hopeless comparing yourself to other artists, and trying to second-guess what people will want to look at or buy. In publishing our art, we're creating diversity and abundance, something for everyone.

Recently, I was chatting to my artist friend Heidi Norman about my former lack of confidence in my work, and my renewed drive to create the sets of images I have planned. Heidi, knowing that I tend to be a perfectionist and a powerhouse of creative ideas herself, encouraged more of a 'just do it' attitude. After all, I have quite a lot of digital images to play with. I've also started to unpack the old photo albums (and umpteen packs of prints which hadn't made it into the albums at the time of packing up a previous life!)

So I’ve rebooted myself, and have been busy creating and loading new images, especially digital art to add to the Belly Dance collection and the Kaleidoscope Mandala Art for Celtic Festivals, Chakras, Starflakes (is it a snowflake or a star, or both?) and a growing collection of bits and pieces involving things like flowers, butterflies, lights and concepts of the natural world such as the seasons and elements.

I refer to them as Kaleidoscope Mandalas, as they aren't traditional mandalas of symbolic images in a geometric shape, but the kaleidoscopic mirroring creates repeated patterns which act like a mandala, as a focus for attention and aid to meditation. As you look, your eyes are drawn around the outer circles of the pattern and into the centre. As your whirling thoughts slow down and start to freewheel, your mind picks out different shapes; faces, crowns, hearts, butterflies, dragonflies, aliens, robots, birds, dancing figures with upraised arms, goddesses, Buddhas, scarab beetles, angels, temples, petals, arrows, feathers, flames.

Apparently, the Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung believed the urge to make mandalas emerged at times of intense personal growth and change. This sounds about right to me. I haven't felt such a strong drive to create in years, and it certainly has been a year of changes for me.

It takes some time to upload new work, create and edit various product offerings, but you can now find increasing amounts of my work on the following sites:

RedBubble    http://www.redbubble.com/people/imagomoth
Zazzle           http://www.zazzle.co.uk/dancingmoth*
DeviantArt    http://dancingmoth.deviantart.com/
Cafépress    http://www.cafepress.co.uk/profile/dancingmoth

Please feel free to treat yourself and make me a few pennies in commissions! ;)

Depending on your browser and plugins, you may be able to see my Zazzle panel in the right-hand column, scrolling through various products and images. You can also find Heidi on RedBubble and her Spanglefish website. She is also translating some of her designs for clothing through Vida, well worth a look (or better still, a pre-order!).

Current earworm: The Windmills of Your Mind (but the Kaleidoscope Mandalas are something of an antidote to the restless, troubling thoughts!)

Happy New Year 2016

Well, here we are again. Most of the people I know seem to have had quite an eventful 2015. Some had nice life events; engagements, marriages, babies, new jobs. Some had difficult or sad events such as surgery, deaths of pets or family members. Some had a perfect storm of horrible events; death, divorce, forced sale of their home, diagnoses of chronic and/or serious illness for themselves or family members, car accidents, multiple breakdowns of things like computers and white goods. I don't know what it was about last year, but many people are glad to see the back of it. It was a year of changes for me, but I feel like I got off relatively lightly. My house purchase and move went okay, despite coinciding with exams and a biopsy, the results of which showed nothing to worry about. Although I only managed to get one job interview and that was a 'no', and class attendance has been at an all-time low, the osteoarthritis has been relatively good; all the yoga, mindful movement and daily physio exercises have paid off. Things could be worse.

As ever, the time has flown by since I moved. I see I didn't blog much this year, probably because I would just be repeating myself about cleaning furniture, unpacking boxes, sorting things out. And yet I managed more beach time this year, even if it was less about lolling around with a book in the sunshine and more beach-combing in a chilly breeze.

As I mentioned in a previous post, a lot of the time has gone in problem solving. Working out how to fit furniture into rooms of a different size and shape. Moving bits of furniture and heavy boxes on my own (it's all about levers - I even managed to right my swing seat when the last lot of high winds tipped it over on the patio). Trying to fit things into a kitchen which has more cupboards than my previous one, but paradoxically, less space because the cupboards are all smaller. Drying washing indoors without my beloved laundry maid airer (no space for it in the new place, unfortunately). Getting the computer, TV and other bits of media kit connected. Trying to get the Christmas lights working. (Lay them out flat - a miracle, they all work! Fight with the metres of twisty wires to arrange them on the tree and switch on again, wow, all working! Switch on the next day, a set of 10 has gone off. Uttering my usual mantra 'Okay, I can do this, lots of people do it, how hard can it be?' Find the spare bulbs and set to work trying to find the one that's blown. None of them look as though they have blown. The instructions to 'just ease the bulb out of the holder' belie the difficulty of removing them. A couple of hours and wrecked thumbnails later, I have replaced all 10 bulbs in the loop which failed and not managed to fix the problem. Decided that I need to leave it otherwise I'll never get the tree decorated and add some sort of voltage detector device to the wishlist.)

What is it with me and heating systems though? Back at the beginning of the year, I had a freezing few weeks in my old place when the pump failed, the boiler tripped off and I couldn't get responses or sensible help from heating engineers to fix it. Now, the heating and hot water here have gone wrong. I already knew this heating system would need replacing, and the grand plan was to replace the back boiler with a new combi boiler vented through the roof, and replace the gas fire in the living room with a small woodburner. The quote I had from British Gas for the boiler and plumbing came to £6500, which was pretty much £2000 beyond my budget. I meant to follow through with other quotes, but as each job application was rejected, it seemed impossible that I could afford it in the short term.

In the meantime, the heating and hot water at least worked, after a fashion. I found early on that the timer controller in the airing cupboard didn't actually work, and was told by the seller that they used to leave the heating on 'continuous' in the winter and just let the thermostat switch it on and off. Once I started the heating for the winter, I found that in fact the thermostat didn't seem to work at all. Then, with an alarming whirring noise a few days before Christmas, the heating went off. Switched off and on again. Nothing. Switched on the gas fire - that works. Switched on the hot water, the water doesn't heat but the heating comes on instead. Rummaged around in the airing cupboard, failed to find a separate immersion switch. Gave the 3-way valve a tap or two with a hammer, just in case, but no difference. Called a few heating engineers - all calls went to their telco messaging services and I received no call-backs. Ditto a few calls made between Christmas and New Year. At least I have an electric shower, the washing machine and dishwasher are cold fill, and I can boil a kettle for other washing up, but it's a bit tedious not having hot water on tap when you're used to all mod cons*. I know, #firstworldproblems.

So, the year has turned a corner, the days are supposed to be getting longer (difficult to tell, as the weather continues mild, wet and windy) and in addition to the preparation for this term's classes and the looming tax deadline, I need to find a heating engineer who answers their phone and is willing to tackle an older system to restore my hot water.

Happy 2016! Let's hope it's a good one for all of us!

*Note for non-English readers and space aliens: 'All mod cons' stands for 'all modern conveniences', that is, things like electricity, central heating, hot and cold running water and an indoor bathroom and toilet; a phrase which used to feature in adverts for places to rent or buy and which you don't see any more, presumably because it is taken for granted.