Finger Cymbals/Sagat/Zills

Finger cymbals, also known as Zills (from the Turkish Zilleri), Sagat/Sajat or Sunouj (Arabic), or Zang (Persian) are instruments used by musicians and dancers, particularly with Turkish, Ghawazee, American Cabaret (AmCab) and American/Improvised Tribal (ATS/ITS) styles of dance.  Played well, they can add a layer of shimmering, ringing, percussive sound to match or embellish the rhythms as a musical accompaniment.  Played badly, they create a clashing wall of sound which might still be useful for driving out demons, ex-boyfriends or other undesirables.

I started playing with finger cymbals almost from my first lesson. Not that I was really learning to play them, and I would still not say that I can truly dance and play finger cymbals well, but then I was always one for trying to run before I could walk. They are a fun prop for class when you feel like making some joyful noise, but some people really dislike the sound or having to try to coordinate another layer of movement, or both.

Finger cymbals for Middle Eastern music and dance usually come in sets of four, two for each hand. They are different to Tingsha bells, which are a pair of thick cymbals joined by a cord often used in Buddhist prayer and rituals, and often available in shops selling ethnic/world gifts and clothes. They are also not to be confused with finger cymbals sold by music shops, which often sell only one pair.

Finger cymbals come in a range of sizes, the most common having a diameter of about 5 cm (2 in), although some are quite tiny and others fairly large. Take a look on YouTube at Egyptian percussionist and dancer Karim Nagi and his masterful playing with large finger cymbals. They may be (sand) cast or pressed from various metal alloys. Makers commonly use brass rather than the bronze used for larger cymbals, but they may also use other alloys such as 'German silver'. Finger cymbals vary in appearance and may be shiny, dull, plain or engraved. Some may be plated or have some other surface finish in order to give a silvery colour or a brighter surface. The shape may vary, from almost flat with a very low dome in the centre, to a high dome and/or a raised rim. They may have a single, central hole for the elastic, or two slots. The different sizes, shapes, production methods and alloys will produce sounds that differ in pitch (the musical 'note'), tone, volume and resonance. The 'German silver' alloy cymbals often have a higher tone than their brass counterparts because of the different weight and nickel and silver content.

A dancer performing with an orchestra will need larger cymbals with more volume, whereas a cabaret dancer may want a more delicate sound. American Tribal Style dancers typically use larger cymbals with a more mellow or deeper tone. Dancers may select the cymbals for a particular piece according to their pitch, so that it suits the maqam of the piece of music. Or they may use sets of cymbals which produce different pitches for their right and left hands so that they can replicate and play with doum and tak sounds.

I was under the impression that zill and sagat were interchangeable names for finger cymbals, just in different languages, but I've learned from a Facebook discussion group that in general, sagat have one hole and zills, two slots. I'd also previously been told that the one-hole cymbals weren't 'professional' quality (implying the two-slot cymbals are) but I have a heap of cheap and nasty two-slot cymbals which I use for class practice, and have since learned that the one-hole cymbals can be high quality. However, the one-hole sagat tend not to have the prolonged ring of the two-slot zills and the playing technique differs a little, as they can be harder to control, especially if they have a loop of round, rather than flat, elastic. I've been given a set of sagat, and was pleasantly surprised at how well they ring and sound, but I find I cup my hands slightly more when playing them to keep them from wobbling so much on my fingers.

The cymbals are worn on the thumb and middle finger of each hand, just below the base of the finger nails. They need to fit snugly so that they don't slip around or come off . (As my friend Rose put it recently, there are two settings; cutting off the circulation or flying off the fingers!) This can feel very strange; so strange that it interrupts your normal physical feedback while you are dancing, so that at first you feel as though you can either move your fingers, or your body, or feet, but no two at the same time. The different sounds, patterns and drills are for another post, but it's important to get used to moving around while wearing and playing, even if at first you only do isolation and movement drills while wearing the finger cymbals but not playing them.

What did we do before we had elastic?
However they used to be secured, the usual method now is to have a short length of elastic threaded through the hole or slots. White gets dirty very quickly, so I use black for preference, although the teacher of one of the workshops I've been to likes gold lurex elastic, as it's appropriately shiny and less obvious than black. I liked the idea, but I couldn't find any to buy, so experimented with some off a gift box. I found it a bit prickly and irritating.

In fact, the teacher of every workshop I've been to has their own favourite type of elastic and way of  fastening and adjusting it; knotting it, sewing it, using safety pins, using metal or plastic adjusters (the same as used on bras and suspenders). I played with the latter a bit. One of the problems with this is finding an adjuster which is the right size for the elastic. Another problem is that it's a fiddle to get the elastic in because of the tight fit,  and despite this, it seems to slip. I used these for one performance and as I was putting them on just before going on, the elastic came pinging right out of one of the fasteners, and there wasn't the time or the light to get it back in again. I just had time to take them off and leave them on the sound desk before going on. Luckily the dance wasn't about them, they were just to be an accompaniment. After the same happened at a party recently, I've decided to stick with the little brass safety pins, which allow quick adjustment for different sized fingers and thumbs and a bit of tightening as the elastic loosens as it ages.

Having adjusted your elastics, you may find a noticeable difference between the loops for the thumb and finger cymbals. On your own set, you might want to mark which is which, although I don't bother. I've seen suggestions involving putting a dot of (bright) nail polish on the elastic on the 'inside' of the thumb cymbals, or use different colours of thread to sew the thumb and finger elastics, which is fine if you have some light, not so good in darkened wings. A more tactile solution is to sew a smallish bead to the thumb or finger elastics.

While I was writing this article, I was cleaning zills (removing tarnish and spots of corrosion with a metal cleaner and a soft cloth), checking and replacing elastics ready for the new dance term.  It's a good idea to have a safety pins and a set of spare elastics (4 pieces of 12 mm wide x 75 mm long elastic - braided is nicer than corded, if you can find it) in your 'emergency kit' for workshops and performance, but at a push, you can use a narrow hair elastic, looping it around a finger or thumb until it's tight. It works, although being a round elastic, is prone to wobble a bit. A Facebook belly buddy found this blog post using jersey hair elastics and this seems to be a good solution if you find elastics too uncomfortable, assuming you have or can find jersey hair elastics. It makes me wonder whether you could improvise some of these by cutting narrow rounds from the ankle of an old sock, or whether they would be too large. Maybe worth a go!

The photo shows a dozen sets of finger cymbals.
Top row, my Saroyan zills. Left, my originals, Arabesque II, awaiting a clean and new elastics. If you click on the photo for the large version, you might be able to see that one of the safety pins had corroded, leaving just the spike in the elastic. I found that the hard way as I fished these out of my performance case. The middle set are my 'newest' ones, not used yet, bought a couple of years ago (when Harry Saroyan announced his retirement and triggered a spot of panic buying! Fortunately, Saroyan are still going under new ownership. I can't remember which these are! Small Grecian, perhaps?).  The 12mm wide elastic is a snug fit and the trick is to put one corner up through the slot first, and use that to pull the elastic through. I played with using a hair elastic in one of them, just to see how it worked. Right, my Nefertitis with the offending slide adjusters.
On the middle row and bottom left, my latest acquisitions, second hand from another belly dance teacher who has thrown in the towel as far as teaching goes. Middle left, in the middle of cleaning - the brass ones seemed to tarnish and corrode more than the silver-coloured ones next to them, which need new, wider elastics. And middle right, more slide adjusters to be removed. Bottom left, I rather like the two-tone copper and brass. The elastic had totally gone. Bottom row middle, the single hole sagat with their raised rims. Bottom right, 4 assorted sets from my class zills. You can see spots of nail varnish on the elastics of the set on the right, used to differentiate my class zills from those of another teacher during a workshop where lots were needed.

What to look for when buying
The perennial question is, 'As a beginner, should I buy a cheap set or professional quality finger cymbals?'.

The main argument for buying a cheap, basic, first set is to save your money for finger cymbals to match your preference, once you've danced enough to know what that is! I would normally encourage a beginner to borrow some in class until they decide they want their own (hence my sets of 'class' zills). There's nothing wrong with buying cheap zills if you want some to play with at home. Little boxed sets of pressed zills with a little booklet and a belly bindi are often given as presents.  Most of my class zills are from these.  They sound pretty terrible, frankly, but these are perfectly good enough for a bit of fun and to find out whether you like playing finger cymbals.

Professional quality finger cymbals are generally larger, heavier gauge, and louder. The heavier gauge is more tiring to play with, so practice to strengthen and 'condition' the hands is a good thing. The louder tone means that mistakes are easier to hear! I found my first 'professional' zills deafening, compared to the cheap set I had. At 2.5"/6.5 cm, they were also about as large as I would like to go, considering that I have wide hands with short fingers. (The standard advice is not to get anything larger than slightly smaller than your palm, in which case I should be able to manage 3"/7.5 cm cymbals, but I find finger length makes a big difference.)

You can also find finger cymbals which are a good compromise; reasonable quality, but not as expensive as the 'high end' cymbals, with a much better tone than the cheap sets. In the UK, the best place to find these is through vendors such as Zara's Zouk and Farida Souk. Everything Egyptian no longer seems to sell online, but you can contact them if you know what you want.  Bellydance Boutique is now stocking some of the Saroyan zills as well. (This is correct at the time of writing, and no, unfortunately, I don't receive anything for these recommendations!)

When buying zills, you will want to check them for size, weight, tone and finish. I find it annoying when sellers do not have a 'test set' with the elastics set up, so that you can sound them out. Ask - a good vendor will oblige. Check the finish - some have rough or sharp edges, or surface damage from the casting or engraving which could snag on your costume, though I've never found this a problem with the high end zills. If you are buying online and concerned, just ask the vendor to check for you. The ones linked above will all be happy to help.

Then it's just a matter of learning to play and dance at the same time! Have fun!

Big Butterfly Count 2016

You would think, would you not, that a period of three weeks at the height of summer (15th July to 7th August) would be ideal for seeing loads of butterflies? Yet again, this year was, for me, a bit of a wash-out! I did lots of 15 minute observations with no results. Not a single butterfly! I know the 15 minute time-slot is to limit the potential for counting the same butterfly twice, but when they're scarce, it's so frustrating!
I attempted my first counts down in Neyland on 19th July, a really hot day (I hung a thermometer on the washing line and it was showing 30 degrees by late afternoon, even with a breeze!). I started at Brunel Quay and went up past the Yacht Club to the car park right at the end, checking each Buddleia or patch of grass or scrub. Not a single butterfly! Not one! A friend down in Surrey visited Clandon Park to do a count and there were loads of butterflies, including Silver-Washed Fritillaries, Marbled Whites, Purple Hairstreaks and White Admirals. I think I would just about die from excitement if I saw any of those here!

Over the weeks, I had a couple more sessions watching for butterflies in my garden, but apart from the occasional white, too restless and distant to be able to tell large from small, there was nothing. Not even on the splendid Buddleia in the front garden a few doors down. Perhaps they were all there once I'd gone away, but I doubt it. I let the Ragwort in the garden grow and flower to increase the sources of nectar (and in the hope I might get Cinnabar Moths) but nothing seems to want it very much, so that's my next job - onto the compost heap with it, before it seeds!

I left the Buddleia growing under the washing line to see what colour it would be. It got its roots down this year and grew ridiculously long flower spikes which opened into the usual lilac-coloured flowers right at the end of the three-week period. On the last day of the Butterfly Watch, it was nice and warm and I was rewarded by visitors:

3 Large White
2 Small White
2 Red Admiral (very fresh and gorgeous!)
1 Peacock

A result to record, at last!

True to form, as soon as the three week period was over, I've seen loads of butterflies. There must have been a hatching of Small Tortoiseshells, with Peacocks and Large Whites, all enjoying the Buddleia in the sunshine and impossible to photograph because of the stiff breeze blowing!

I'm leaving and encouraging any caterpillars I find (although sadly didn't notice the Gooseberry Sawfly until they had completely defoliated my two small gooseberry bushes!) and plan to have several Buddleias around the garden, as well as other nectar rich flowers. We all need more butterflies!

Belly Dance Choreography (for Beginners)

'Traditionally', Belly Dance solos are improvised, created in the moment, the reactions to the music differing each time you hear the same piece, depending on your mood or what you hear or reflect from the music. Improvised performance can be a daunting prospect, so many beginners prefer the relative security offered by having a choreography to follow, and sooner or later want to create their own.

Creating choreography can be a challenge for any dance style and belly dance is no different. It's even more of a challenge when you're a beginner. My first solo went down well, but looking back, it was overly stuffed with moves and I didn't manage my spatial use and placement very well. If you're starting with your own solo or group choreographies, here are my top tips and things to think about!

Start with the music, not the moves! As a beginner, it can be difficult to know where to start when you only know a few 'moves', but you can get away with half a dozen moves in a simple choreography. Although 'belly dance' is an umbrella term covering many styles, in general the dance form is intensely music-driven. It's about interpreting the music and rhythms, more a way of moving than a set of steps. If you're working in a more contemporary or fusion way, you might want to start with a concept or theme, or even a prop. But music is still right up at the start of the process.

Choose music you like, which moves you, stirs something in you, makes you want to dance. You are going to be listening to the same piece over and over again. What is the mood of the music, what emotion does it stir in you?

What style of music is it? It's a good idea to match the style of your dance to the style and rhythms of the music.  Try to get a translation of any lyrics (but resist the temptation to mime them!).

Really listen to the music, the rhythm(s), the form (intro, verse, chorus, outro, repeats, call and response - labelling the different sections, e.g. Intro A Verse B, Chorus C, Bridge D, Outro E, you may find you have something which looks like ABCBCDBCE), the length of notes and phrases, changes in rhythm, tempo and other dynamics (loud/soft, stops/starts, flowing or percussive).

Improvise. Seriously, just dance without stopping or judging yourself and see what comes up. You might find that after dancing to the music a few times, the same moves come up in the same places, or you feel compelled to do a certain move at a particular point.

'Map out' the piece. From your notes on the form and dynamics, and observations of moves or phrases which you liked or found yourself repeating during your improvisation, you can start to do a rough choreography. It can be useful to set down the parts which seem obvious, such as an intro, big finish, and any repeats or chorus. Some people prefer to work from start to finish, but working in a non-linear way can help to prevent you getting 'stuck'.

Keep it simple. Restriction can be great for creativity. Use your favourite 'go to' moves and the moves you can do  technically well and suit your body to try to make the music, its rhythms and melody, visible; meet silence with stillness, reflect the length of notes in the duration of movements, solo instruments danced on the spot, using the noisy, joyful music to travel. But remember that less is more - you don't need to pack in lots of different moves.

Use repeats (wisely!). The usual thing is to repeat a dance combination when the music repeats. It can provide an 'anchor' for the audience and dancers alike, but it can get a bit tedious to do and to watch. Tricks to change it up include:

• Doing things 'on the other side', i.e. right and left sides.

• Passing the move up or down the body (e.g. hip circles, chest circles or shoulder shimmy, hip shimmy.

• Limiting or alternating repeated phrases.

• Repeating whole phrases instead of individual moves.

• Recognising call and response, reflecting them in different movement phrases.

• Working different directions, both in terms of facing different ways (it's surprising how different a move can look when you turn it side on, but be aware of how it looks from the audience point of view!) and of using different pathways in the space.

• The power of three; when you have a similar musical phrase repeated four times, you do the same thing three times and something else the fourth time.

So you could create a combination of phrases which you repeat, e.g. facing one front diagonal, repeat on the other side to the other front diagonal, back to the first side with your back to the audience, and a different combo to finish facing front.

Use your space. Don't forget that you can manage space by taking longer or shorter steps. If your choreography is for a duet, trio or group rather than solo, look at your spacing and pathways; even if you plan to do everything in unison, think about mirroring movements, changing formations, the details of movement which allow you all to look the same (such as how high an arm is raised, which way a hand turns), and the potential for not working completely in unison!

Work on your transitions, linking moves to make them flow smoothly.

Dance with your whole self. Put your heart into it, dance with expression, both through the dynamics of the moves, the use of gestures, and through your face.

And finally, ENJOY IT!

Cardigan Belly Dance Festival 2016

It seems impossible that that only a fortnight ago, we were mid-show at the 6th (yes, 6th!) Cardigan Belly Dance Festival. Our guest teacher Zara bravely took on a last minute challenge to do a children's workshop in the afternoon, as friends and family had descended unexpectedly on my dance-partner-in-crime Rose a few days before the weekend (so we were both having meltdowns!). The noise added a counterpoint to the rehearsals for our other guest teacher Siluria and her 'pop-up troupe'. Both sets of dancers were sorted out with costumes, ready to perform that evening. A last minute drop-out due to illness was replaced by a last minute drop-in, enabled by not working a shift after all. I had managed to organise a running order which enabled repeat performers to change costumes without being too frantic as well as roughly balancing the two halves, despite other last minute unknowns - a dancer with a very ill father, would she perform and how many pieces, and whether the children would want to perform. In the end, I ditched any thought of performing a solo piece, as I found myself frantically busy covering for another LIFT leader who gives four or five classes a week and who was off training for the middle two weeks of July. I also had to ditch any thoughts of going to the Foundation for Community Dance summer school, which clashed with the preparation week before the festival, and besides which was more than I could afford.

The show went without a hitch, thanks to our tech who has become used to working with us and, having received running order, start on/off cues and music, is a master at getting the most out of the limited lighting rig so we're well lit.

The children were so cute and could have taught the adults a thing or two about ditching the nerves and just getting out there to dance. Two of the girls had a bit of a costume malfunction where their skirts tangled as they turned, and they just stopped and sorted it out with no fuss, then picked up their cue from Zara again. What stars!

Lazlo's Bar

The pop-up troupe was a bit different this year. Working with Siluria and her husband Andy on live sax, the music and theme was taken from a piece called 'Lazlo's Bar' by their band, Rogora Khart. All of the Imago dancers also did the pop-up troupe. When I arrived at the theatre after lunch, it was great to see that they'd already got the choreography down and were sorting out costume and rehearsing in the afternoon session. The performance was great, the choreography picking up on the lyrics and creating the atmosphere of the bar.

Siluria's other two solos also used music by Rogora Khart. She has great flow and expression; her Sunday workshop was about getting more expression into the dance, and more connection with audience and other dancers.

The Imago piece was possibly the best we've ever performed it. It seems to have been a struggle this year, despite being shorter and simpler than the previous two pieces. It really confirmed to me that classes on only the first and third Wednesdays of the month (which was all the dancers felt they could afford and commit to) just isn't an effective way to learn and retain a choreography and sort out the technique, if the dancers also don't practise at home. We'd spent about 21 hours on the choreography and supporting technique over seven months, which proved long enough to have forgotten all the phrase-by-phrase break-down we'd started with and for bad habits and blocks to creep in. There must be something in the immediacy of learning a piece on the day, without having to commit it to long-term memory. How you can spend months on a piece and feel under-rehearsed, but not feel so under-rehearsed on a piece you learned (but don't really know!) in a day, just boggles my mind. Anyway, I was proud of everyone for their commitment, hard work and performance, and had some lovely feedback from the audience on how good we were, how nice we looked (all different bits of costume, but linked by top, bottom or both in shades of blue) and how much they liked the piece.

I was intensely proud of one of my dancers, who choreographed and performed her first solo. We'd had some rehearsal time, in which I'd given feedback and tips, but this was her creation and expression, a fusion piece which had the crowd clapping along. She worked extremely hard on it, with a quantum leap in improvement each time she rehearsed with me. It just goes to show, when you dance from the heart, you can perform and produce something that an audience can enjoy watching, without having good, much less perfect technique. (Although of course, we should all be working towards that, but just think what you and your audience could miss out on if you wait to perform until you or others think you're really quite good! But that's a whole other discussion and I digress!)

Juliana came down from north Wales to perform her fusion sword piece, one of those times when the dance ends and you feel as though you've just been released from a spell.

I admire my dance partner Rose greatly; she does separate choreographies for her handful of different groups and gets the best out of her dancers with some beautiful pieces. This year, one of her groups ordered made-to-measure galabeyas from Cairo via Zara's Zouk and they were gorgeous, and left me green with costume envy. Some of her dancers are now creating their own solos and duets, some of which had been shown for feedback at Yvette Cowles' weekend of workshops relating to dance drama and performance, and the polish which had been put on them since that weekend at the end of May was fabulous to see.

Tribal Unity Wales did a fast piece in the first half and a slower set in the second half, including a Puja to the most beautiful guitar music (although I still don't know what, or by whom, it was).

Zara also did a set comprising a high-energy raqs assaya, where her cane became a blur of silver, baladi which revelled in the music and a drum solo to top it all off. She brought the same energy to her workshop on empowerment through the dance the following day, where we walked around like divas, shouted across the space and found our centre of gravity and the source of our feminine power in our pelvis.

As it always does, the weekend flew by and it took me a few days to come down off the high.I still haven't unpacked and dealt with all the bits and pieces and operation 'reclaim the sewing table' has stalled because ... ah, that's a different post!

The Interloper

For a while now, there has been a black and white tom cat who comes visiting almost every day. He comes in, eats all the food, sprays in the house, sprays in the garden and runs away from me. I have no idea where he lives, nor to whom he belongs, and the few neighbours I've asked don't know either.

He is a little larger than Greebo, but not as fat, and Greebo won't fight him. That might be a good thing, considering the fights with the interloping black and white tomcat we had back on the farm were the major cause of vets' bills a few years ago. It also tells me that Greebo doesn't yet feel secure in this place as his new territory. I've seen a couple of stand-offs in the garden, where Greebo has ended up walking around the 'interloper'. The tom calls (and 'talks' to my two cats with a variety of meeps, prrps and miaows). I've seen him and Greebo touch noses, and I was sitting in the lounge one evening when I heard a conversation and saw Xena preparing to walk the tomcat upstairs, the little hussy! I managed to get a picture from the bedroom window of them all lying on the path. The tom is giving out 'I'm not a threat, look, totally relaxed!' while my two seem less convinced.

Since then, I've been out in the garden to find all three of them lying separately in the long grass, spaced out like points of a triangle about three metres apart. As I stooped to stroke Greebo, the tom cat got up and went off through the fence. Definitely a cat who doesn't like or trust people!
I've tried being nice, and tried chasing him off, but the only difference it makes is the speed at which he disappears. I went out to call my two the other week, only to find his face appearing around the corner of my side passage/extension roof from his perch on my next-door neighbour's adjoining side passage roof. Still keeping a safe distance, but alert to the possibility of more food. I've tried a variety of names on him, but none make him react in any way.

A nuisance? Me?

His poor face looks a bit bashed up, with one eye darker than the other and half-closed. Otherwise he looks in fine fettle. (I should think so too - I wonder who else's food he nicks?)

I'd like to think he leads an idyllic tom cat lifestyle, with a loving family whom he visits every few weeks for a spot of luxury, in between tours of his territory, where he comes and goes and does as he pleases.

I love cats, but he is a mystery and a nuisance! Which reminds me - I need to go out and buy more cat food.

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!