On the road

Bassingthorpe turn off

Another random landscape, this time taken from the car window when I was en route between home and my mother’s house near
Cambridge. Looking at it now, in some lights, some moments, it is nothing much; but I remember how it grabbed me as I turned off the road for a quick break from driving. Perhaps this year I am astonished less often by views of landscape, as my drives along certain routes become more familiar, but still there are times when some juxtaposition of field and sky shouts out at me as I come round a bend in the road to meet it; making me shout in turn. There is always so much sky and it is different every day. As I have said in other posts (this one or this one), I love the blocks and colours, lines and angles of this so-English landscape; nature and agriculture making art together under the light, wide sky.

Coming home

Field and sky near Dembleby

I’m back, I think.

I’ve not finished my other writing yet; and I’m still musing on what this blog is about now that my Lincolnshire life is no longer shiny new, now that I’m seeing and doing things for the second not the first time.

But in recent days I have found myself thinking often of this, and you, my readers; and on Tuesday evening I had a moment, en route home from a visit to my mum’s near Cambridge, that felt a very blog moment.

After the M11, A14, A1 and A52 I turned at last onto the back roads for my last, cross-country half hour. Imagine yourself with me in the sudden peace as I stopped the car here: no more road noise, engine noise, the A52 only yards and another world away. I heard birdsong, breathed cool, sweet air and looked over golden fields and a limpid blue sky: just a small road on its way to a small village somewhere in England, and something like heaven.

And oh the irony that my first thought is to share this sense of peace with the world, when what I am loving is the emptiness and people being so beautifully not there!

The rest of the photos, as ever, on the Facebook page.

Roses revisited

Rosehips cooking

You may remember my summer post about roses and making rose petal and rhubarb jam. One or two of those beautiful salmon pink roses are still out, not realising winter is nearly upon us. In the meantime I have been making rosehip syrup, which you can see cooking in the photo above.

The rosehips in the saucepan are not from the garden but from the hedges in the field at the end of our road (as featured in View from the dog field and No longer the dog field). They are the hips of the dog rose or rosa canina, orange, fat and glossy; and very abundant this year (see photo in Mellow Frenzy).

During World War II schoolchildren were sent out to pick rosehips in bulk, as part of the government’s attempt to make Britain self sufficient in food. They contain lots of Vitamin C, which was in scarce supply when there were no imported oranges and lemons.

The recipe I used is based on the one given out by the government in those years. You chop the hips, boil and strain them through a jelly bag not once, but twice and then boil up the juice again with sugar.

When I tasted the resulting pink stuff I was transported back to my mother’s kitchen sometime in the 1960s when we were still given it as something medicinal. I plan to pour my 21st century version over ice cream with rose and rhubarb jam.