Yesterday I and the robin in the new allotment got to know each other a little better. I think he must live inside the shed, because twice now I've startled him when I opened it. Yesterday he sat scolding at me in the plum tree for a while afterwards.
I was admiring the new clean cavity where the weird fetid pond used to be, and there he was eyeing up the earth for worms and insects. I'd disturbed the earth quite considerably, so I expect there were plenty to be had. He was leaping and darting around, and every now and again he would pause to eye me up with his head on one side. I could see how curious he was. He could tell I wasn't food, but he just kept hopping nearer and nearer, evidently just wanting to understand what kind of creature I was. We sat for some time in a peaceful mutual silence, and I admired how the breeze ruffled the grey softness of his feathers.
I felt a bit silly when some fellow allotmenteers said hello, as it looked like I was just perched on a plant pot talking to myself. I suspect that there are plenty of people in my allotments who are partial to that kind of behaviour though, so perhaps they understood.
Allotment Pixie
Sunday, 30 October 2011
No more drowned voles
I managed to extract the lurid green plastic monstrosity sunk in the earth in the new allotment today. It is in fact some kind of child's sand pit in the shape, I think, of a frog. I discovered the lid on a compost heap. It had staring white eyes.
It was like extracting a huge green rotten molar from the mouth of the allotment. It was full of fetid water and slime. There were many flints in it, which I shovelled out with the handy broken up concrete encrusted old Irishman's shovel. It is particularly good at heavy work, because it has weight behind it.
As the water got shallower, I uncovered strange prehistoric looking creatures. They had the bodies of immature froglets, but had six legs. They crawled out before I could photograph them. I think they may have been just waterboatmen, but out of the water, crawling instead of swimming, they looked entirely different. They certainly fitted with the character of the pond, crawling out of the stinking slime like some lost ancient form of creature.
I realised too late why the flints were there. One morning there was a poor dead vole lying in the murky water. It had no means of escape, as the plastic sides would have been too slippery to climb. I covered the pond with its hideous green staring lid, and weighted it down with a couple of bricks.
Yesterday though I was once more greeted by the luminous glaring eyes, and knew that the time had come. I had to get rid of that pond, before it came alive on Halloween and cursed my garlic.
I attacked it with my Irishman's shovel, biting round the mud until I exposed the plastic rim. then I levered it up all round, until I felt it give up with a foul mouthed sigh. It was a good feeling to feel it come away from the earth, and feel the air running into the gap between earth and plastic.
So it won't be perilous to voles or any other creature now. It is resting on my ever growing pile of junk in the middle of the allotment. The pile is looking more like a Tate Modern exhibit every day.
It was like extracting a huge green rotten molar from the mouth of the allotment. It was full of fetid water and slime. There were many flints in it, which I shovelled out with the handy broken up concrete encrusted old Irishman's shovel. It is particularly good at heavy work, because it has weight behind it.
As the water got shallower, I uncovered strange prehistoric looking creatures. They had the bodies of immature froglets, but had six legs. They crawled out before I could photograph them. I think they may have been just waterboatmen, but out of the water, crawling instead of swimming, they looked entirely different. They certainly fitted with the character of the pond, crawling out of the stinking slime like some lost ancient form of creature.
I realised too late why the flints were there. One morning there was a poor dead vole lying in the murky water. It had no means of escape, as the plastic sides would have been too slippery to climb. I covered the pond with its hideous green staring lid, and weighted it down with a couple of bricks.
Yesterday though I was once more greeted by the luminous glaring eyes, and knew that the time had come. I had to get rid of that pond, before it came alive on Halloween and cursed my garlic.
I attacked it with my Irishman's shovel, biting round the mud until I exposed the plastic rim. then I levered it up all round, until I felt it give up with a foul mouthed sigh. It was a good feeling to feel it come away from the earth, and feel the air running into the gap between earth and plastic.
So it won't be perilous to voles or any other creature now. It is resting on my ever growing pile of junk in the middle of the allotment. The pile is looking more like a Tate Modern exhibit every day.
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Up on the roof
How luxurious, I have a roof that doesn't leak. No more little pools of water in strange places inside. The fluid loops and undulating lines of white chalk are all that remains of the damp patches that taunted me from above. My only defence was to make marks round them, in an attempt to determine the source of the leaks.
Getting to the source of the leak problem was a gradual process. I wasn't quite sure how to go about it. I armed myself the best I could, with an offcut of roofing felt and an aluminium ladder. Then the whole thing seemed to carry me along with its own momentum.
The first lucky break was the discovery that the piece of thick plastic sheeting I had found in the new allotment's shed was exactly the right size to fit over the entire roof. So much so that I wonder if that was its original purpose.
I relished climbing the ladder and swinging myself onto the roof with the aid of a helpful branch. Those childhood tree climbing days were very valuable. I took my witch's broom up there and had a good old time cackling and sweeping all the debris from the roofing felt. The sun was shining, so I sat on the roof for a while to drink in the view. The ashfelting was beautifully warm. I looked out across all the allotments, and the fields beyond them. It was a very liberating and peaceful experience. I felt quite like some creature of the woods surveying its territory.
It was time to investigate thoroughly the nature of the leak. I saw that there were quite a few layers of roofing felt along the apex of the roof, some of them quite rotten and loose. I peeled off three layers of differing qualities and states of decay. I was reminded of tv diy programmes, where people peel away one layer of wallpaper after another. Each layer is original and unique in its beauty. In my case all the layers were equally disgusting. One had a coating of wood lice on it.
Three further layers remained, but I could now see the problem - there was a crack through all the layers of ashfelting, so that the inside of the shed was in fact exposed to the elements at the roof apex. I suspect it was due to the psychadelic nature of the shack. It is always ready to party. The slightest wind will set it off, rocking and rolling. Only the length of orange baling twine tied to a bolt on one of its corners, and to a sturdy tree, prevents it from totally collapsing.
My plan is this - seal the crack with tar. The offcut of roofing felt I found in the garage is the ideal size to lay over the apex . I'll stick that down with tar too. It won't last for ever, but will buy me some time. I'll lay the thick plastic over the whole lot and staple gun it down. Then when I have some money I'll buy enough roofing felt to go over the entirity of the roof, leaving the plastic in place. Either that or I'll just buy a new shed.
So at the moment the roof is waterproofed by the plastic, strategically staple gunned and held down by LBC bricks. Excellent, and vaguely reminiscent of Alpine chalets.
Getting to the source of the leak problem was a gradual process. I wasn't quite sure how to go about it. I armed myself the best I could, with an offcut of roofing felt and an aluminium ladder. Then the whole thing seemed to carry me along with its own momentum.
The first lucky break was the discovery that the piece of thick plastic sheeting I had found in the new allotment's shed was exactly the right size to fit over the entire roof. So much so that I wonder if that was its original purpose.
I relished climbing the ladder and swinging myself onto the roof with the aid of a helpful branch. Those childhood tree climbing days were very valuable. I took my witch's broom up there and had a good old time cackling and sweeping all the debris from the roofing felt. The sun was shining, so I sat on the roof for a while to drink in the view. The ashfelting was beautifully warm. I looked out across all the allotments, and the fields beyond them. It was a very liberating and peaceful experience. I felt quite like some creature of the woods surveying its territory.
It was time to investigate thoroughly the nature of the leak. I saw that there were quite a few layers of roofing felt along the apex of the roof, some of them quite rotten and loose. I peeled off three layers of differing qualities and states of decay. I was reminded of tv diy programmes, where people peel away one layer of wallpaper after another. Each layer is original and unique in its beauty. In my case all the layers were equally disgusting. One had a coating of wood lice on it.
Three further layers remained, but I could now see the problem - there was a crack through all the layers of ashfelting, so that the inside of the shed was in fact exposed to the elements at the roof apex. I suspect it was due to the psychadelic nature of the shack. It is always ready to party. The slightest wind will set it off, rocking and rolling. Only the length of orange baling twine tied to a bolt on one of its corners, and to a sturdy tree, prevents it from totally collapsing.
My plan is this - seal the crack with tar. The offcut of roofing felt I found in the garage is the ideal size to lay over the apex . I'll stick that down with tar too. It won't last for ever, but will buy me some time. I'll lay the thick plastic over the whole lot and staple gun it down. Then when I have some money I'll buy enough roofing felt to go over the entirity of the roof, leaving the plastic in place. Either that or I'll just buy a new shed.
So at the moment the roof is waterproofed by the plastic, strategically staple gunned and held down by LBC bricks. Excellent, and vaguely reminiscent of Alpine chalets.
Friday, 21 October 2011
A kind of magic
I'm busy planning what I'll be growing in my allotment next year. I've been on an internet surfng extravaganza, gathering in all the names and images of what I would most desire. It's a lovely feeling, like I'm building up a big sparkling wish, ready to breathe it out into the world of my land. I can see it all in my mind - gourds, peas and beans winding round tripods, rainbow chard, beetroot and purple potatoes.
Also all the rainbowy flowers that I've scrounged from other allotments, along with some alpine seeds I brought back from Chatel in France. I've already sown them directly into the soil. My theory is they need the minus temperatures then the warmth of spring to stratify their seeds.
I've also sown some luscious multi petalled coral red poppy seeds that my neighbour quietly posted through the door one evening, in little envelopes decorated with sparkly flower stickers. I tried to grow them last year, and tenderly sowed them in the spring in the greenhouse. None of them germinated, so I think contrary to their overblown drama queen appearance, they must respond to rugged weather conditions too.
Also all the rainbowy flowers that I've scrounged from other allotments, along with some alpine seeds I brought back from Chatel in France. I've already sown them directly into the soil. My theory is they need the minus temperatures then the warmth of spring to stratify their seeds.
I've also sown some luscious multi petalled coral red poppy seeds that my neighbour quietly posted through the door one evening, in little envelopes decorated with sparkly flower stickers. I tried to grow them last year, and tenderly sowed them in the spring in the greenhouse. None of them germinated, so I think contrary to their overblown drama queen appearance, they must respond to rugged weather conditions too.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
Autumn's warm smile
I spent some time tidying the sunflowers. The frost is sending them to sleep, but they still have their petals on. I gave some of them smiley faces.
There are still strawberries ripening. I have to share some of them with slugs, but if I'm quick they're mine, all mine.
A friendly robin has appeared. He seems to have a connection with the new allotment. I've seen him perched on the apex of the greenhouse roof, and by the composting bins. Perhaps I'll get some meal worms for him.
There is a lot of birdsong at the moment. I wonder if the birds are confused by the rapid changes in weather, and think it's spring. Yesterday there was rain, a rainbow, hail and sunshine in the space of about half an hour. All my primroses are in full bloom. It's like adolescent weather - all mixed up.
I've been enjoying the autumn colours lately. In the low golden light everything glows, especially when there is a blue sky. There are a lot of yellows and chartreuse greens. Then there is a kind of rainbow theme going on with all the strong flower colours - cosmos, dahlias, nasturtiums. It would make a lovely painting.
I've just discovered my squash crush on the internet - it's a mushroom squash, and I can buy the seeds from Amazon!
Squash crush
I'm developing an obsession with squashes. It started when I stayed in a farm in France which had magnificent displays of them all around the courtyard. There were so many fantastical and bewildering shapes and colours and textures. I meant to ask for one, but forgot. That led me on a quest to find the seeds for sale on the internet. I've come across wonderous varieties, and ornamental gourds are definitely going to feature in my allotment next year. star shapes, cog wheel shapes, curly shapes, white luminous ones; there is an endless range.
The variety I most fell for has however eluded me. It was half smooth deep orange, and half stone beige roughness, kind of like an angel and a devil combined in squash form. I'm sure its out there somewhere.
The variety I most fell for has however eluded me. It was half smooth deep orange, and half stone beige roughness, kind of like an angel and a devil combined in squash form. I'm sure its out there somewhere.
Friday, 14 October 2011
Tales of the unexpected
There is definitely something mischievous in the air. I suppose I would be disappointed if there wasn't at this time of year. Just now, for example, I was in my art studio and decided to tighten the lid of my primer pot. The whole lot went everywhere. It looked like the king of the birds had been visiting.
It's been a similar story at the allotment. First of all the strange transformation of the green chair. Then yesterday, I lifted the rather sad garlic specimens to discover they'd changed into spring onions. Then today, I was minding my own business in one of the chairs when a pigeon tried to land on my head.
Today I thought I would treat myself to a bacon sandwich, and would fry the bacon in the griddle we found locked in the ski locker in France. Strange thing to do with a griddle, but after using it all became clear.
It's a sturdy cast iron flat pan with a useful fold in handle. It has a ridged surface to make stripes on beef steaks. I started by frying an allotment grown shallot in it, and all went well. Then I added the bacon, and its true character was revealed. In the manner of a cast iron fiend it shrivelled the bacon into small pieces on contact. I could almost hear it saying 'bah, les Anglais! Du bacon maigre! Horreur!'
It will be very good with steak though, and I think a good old English sausage will be more than a match for it.
It's been a similar story at the allotment. First of all the strange transformation of the green chair. Then yesterday, I lifted the rather sad garlic specimens to discover they'd changed into spring onions. Then today, I was minding my own business in one of the chairs when a pigeon tried to land on my head.
Today I thought I would treat myself to a bacon sandwich, and would fry the bacon in the griddle we found locked in the ski locker in France. Strange thing to do with a griddle, but after using it all became clear.
It's a sturdy cast iron flat pan with a useful fold in handle. It has a ridged surface to make stripes on beef steaks. I started by frying an allotment grown shallot in it, and all went well. Then I added the bacon, and its true character was revealed. In the manner of a cast iron fiend it shrivelled the bacon into small pieces on contact. I could almost hear it saying 'bah, les Anglais! Du bacon maigre! Horreur!'
It will be very good with steak though, and I think a good old English sausage will be more than a match for it.
Hunting and gathering
I feel as if I'm really one with the changing seasons this year. In particular at the moment, as I've been busy harvesting crops and gathering seed for next year.
I've gathered in my pumpkins and butternut squash. There's just the leeks and the parsnips to water now. I also went on a little tour around the allotments, craftily collecting seed. People have grown very pretty cosmos, nasturtiums and dahlias, and it would be rude not to help with their propogation next year. I've also collected seed from my sunflowers, including the huge one in my new allotment. It was so tall I had to stand on one of the plastic chairs and hold a bucket under the seed head while I prised the seeds out.
I've made a good start on the bonfire. I've been on the prowl for dry old wood and scrub. Sometimes I wonder if I'm turning into an old wild woman. Ah well, at least I'm happy.
There was a large amount of old wood in the new allotment, plus a good deal of scrub, which will make fine tinder. My bonfire is a structurally balanced layered design. I started with a pile of dried grass, balls of paper, and stems, then added a layer of sticks and small pieces of wood. then I added a layer of brushwood and stems, then another layer of planks of wood. I'll keep repeating these layers until I run out of material. This won't be for a while, as there are loads of tall dead stems in all the untended allotments, and my Dad has an old shed he wants to burn. I think it's going to be an impressive sight when it's lit.
I've gathered in my pumpkins and butternut squash. There's just the leeks and the parsnips to water now. I also went on a little tour around the allotments, craftily collecting seed. People have grown very pretty cosmos, nasturtiums and dahlias, and it would be rude not to help with their propogation next year. I've also collected seed from my sunflowers, including the huge one in my new allotment. It was so tall I had to stand on one of the plastic chairs and hold a bucket under the seed head while I prised the seeds out.
I've made a good start on the bonfire. I've been on the prowl for dry old wood and scrub. Sometimes I wonder if I'm turning into an old wild woman. Ah well, at least I'm happy.
There was a large amount of old wood in the new allotment, plus a good deal of scrub, which will make fine tinder. My bonfire is a structurally balanced layered design. I started with a pile of dried grass, balls of paper, and stems, then added a layer of sticks and small pieces of wood. then I added a layer of brushwood and stems, then another layer of planks of wood. I'll keep repeating these layers until I run out of material. This won't be for a while, as there are loads of tall dead stems in all the untended allotments, and my Dad has an old shed he wants to burn. I think it's going to be an impressive sight when it's lit.
Friday, 7 October 2011
To everything there is a season
Two of the pumpkins had adventures today. One of them became a very hearty pumpkin soup. Delicious with a little chicken stock, orange zest and nutmeg. The other became a gift for the lady who gave me the chairs. The last time I saw it, it was waiting proudly outside her front doorstep on a bright red horse chestnut leaf, a little note tied to its stalk with raffia. I wonder what the others will get up to...
Today was the first day I was able to see my breath drifting all white and smokey in the air while I was sitting in the shack. I'll have to get the ashfelting patched soon, before the wet weather really begins.
There seems to be a little roosting indentation in the wren's leaf mound. Perhaps there is method to her madness after all.
Today was the first day I was able to see my breath drifting all white and smokey in the air while I was sitting in the shack. I'll have to get the ashfelting patched soon, before the wet weather really begins.
There seems to be a little roosting indentation in the wren's leaf mound. Perhaps there is method to her madness after all.
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
mmm bonfires
I'm starting to smell woodsmoke. The leaves are turning golden, and the light contains a magic like windchimes . It's time for bonfires. Mmm lovely. I do like a nice bonfire. This year I have the space for a massive one. I'm going to start creating it tomorrow, and it will grow for a whole month until it becomes a beautiful towering inferno on 5th November. I'm planning a bonfire party, with jacket potatoes and fairy lights, and possibly bonfire toffee. How exciting. I do love a good old primal ritual to celebrate the seasons and turn with the earth's cycles. For me it will be a time for ceremonially burning all the stuff I don't want in my life, to make space for the things I want to welcome in. Can't wait.
Monday, 3 October 2011
snake in the grass
It was one of those days today. I thought things had been going rather too well lately. I started to have my suspicions when I lost the car keys.
I didn't notice at first what had disappeared. I noticed what had appeared instead. A pile of junk items which were all very familiar, because their usual home was next door in the allotment I had just acquired. Then I saw the beaten up old concrete encrusted barrow from next door by my heaps. Then it hit me - THE GREEN CHAIR WASN'T THERE. Instead there was the pile of junk.
I had a feeling I was on borrowed time with it. I'd tried to contact the owner to see if it was ok for me to adopt it, but the phone number didn't work. So I thought I would give it a loving home anyway, as it was lying on its side in a most forlorn way, surrounded by junk. I tied a note to it explaining my actions, in case it was wanted. Just as well as it turns out. So, I was fostering, not adopting.
It was an unusual and stylish chair from the late 50s Eames era. I loved the way its green plastic string, which formed its body support in the manner of sunrays, became luminous when the sun shone on it. Ah well, salut green chair I shall miss you.
I returned the junk to the allotment which had belched it up. It left me rather crestfallen and unmotivated about the whole land expansion idea. The new allotment really is a dump. I chopped back all the mugwort stems and similar today to see just what I'd taken on. There are four old car wheels with tyres, a child's plastic table and chairs, two beaten up barrows, a pile of broken bricks, and everywhere covered with weeds and grass.
I had an informative chat with my mate Brian, who is now a neighbour as well since I've taken on the new allotment. He said what I needed to do was spray the whole lot with weedkiller. He also told me that he is growing the very long stemmed wheat that I have wanted to grow. It's ideal for corn dolly making. I do love the whole ritualistic and primal corn dolly creative process, but haven't been able to make one properly since the farmers started growing short stemmed wheat.
I proudly showed him my comfrey crop in the new allotment, and he said he hated comfrey, because it harbours snakes. His mate was bitten by an adder as he backed into a clump of comfrey while strimming. Dearie me. I'll be much more careful in future.
The other misfortune today concerned my apple crop. I was disturbed to discover that several of the apples had large nibble holes in them, some with droppings on. It was unmistakably a mouse. So, I'm in the process of moving my whole crop into the garage at home. It makes me wonder who I will be sharing my shack with in the winter.
I didn't notice at first what had disappeared. I noticed what had appeared instead. A pile of junk items which were all very familiar, because their usual home was next door in the allotment I had just acquired. Then I saw the beaten up old concrete encrusted barrow from next door by my heaps. Then it hit me - THE GREEN CHAIR WASN'T THERE. Instead there was the pile of junk.
I had a feeling I was on borrowed time with it. I'd tried to contact the owner to see if it was ok for me to adopt it, but the phone number didn't work. So I thought I would give it a loving home anyway, as it was lying on its side in a most forlorn way, surrounded by junk. I tied a note to it explaining my actions, in case it was wanted. Just as well as it turns out. So, I was fostering, not adopting.
It was an unusual and stylish chair from the late 50s Eames era. I loved the way its green plastic string, which formed its body support in the manner of sunrays, became luminous when the sun shone on it. Ah well, salut green chair I shall miss you.
I returned the junk to the allotment which had belched it up. It left me rather crestfallen and unmotivated about the whole land expansion idea. The new allotment really is a dump. I chopped back all the mugwort stems and similar today to see just what I'd taken on. There are four old car wheels with tyres, a child's plastic table and chairs, two beaten up barrows, a pile of broken bricks, and everywhere covered with weeds and grass.
I had an informative chat with my mate Brian, who is now a neighbour as well since I've taken on the new allotment. He said what I needed to do was spray the whole lot with weedkiller. He also told me that he is growing the very long stemmed wheat that I have wanted to grow. It's ideal for corn dolly making. I do love the whole ritualistic and primal corn dolly creative process, but haven't been able to make one properly since the farmers started growing short stemmed wheat.
I proudly showed him my comfrey crop in the new allotment, and he said he hated comfrey, because it harbours snakes. His mate was bitten by an adder as he backed into a clump of comfrey while strimming. Dearie me. I'll be much more careful in future.
The other misfortune today concerned my apple crop. I was disturbed to discover that several of the apples had large nibble holes in them, some with droppings on. It was unmistakably a mouse. So, I'm in the process of moving my whole crop into the garage at home. It makes me wonder who I will be sharing my shack with in the winter.
Saturday, 1 October 2011
New territory
Both I and the wren were having fun exploring the new allotment today. She has been inside the shed searching for grubs. I surprised her and felt her whirring above my head as she made for the door.
There is a huge amount of stuff for burning. It would make a spectacular fire for bonfire night.
I've had my eye on the huge lush comfrey plants in this allotment for some time. Today I felt I could legitimately harvest some of it. I want to give my butternut squash all the help they can get poor things. I didn't water them as well as I should have done earlier on in the season, and they're quite small.
I treated them to some liquid comfrey too. I was surprised to see a colony of miniature mushrooms growing on the surface of the liquid in the bin.
There is a huge amount of stuff for burning. It would make a spectacular fire for bonfire night.
I've had my eye on the huge lush comfrey plants in this allotment for some time. Today I felt I could legitimately harvest some of it. I want to give my butternut squash all the help they can get poor things. I didn't water them as well as I should have done earlier on in the season, and they're quite small.
I treated them to some liquid comfrey too. I was surprised to see a colony of miniature mushrooms growing on the surface of the liquid in the bin.
Croquez moi
Today has been a day of apples. Apples on the ground all wet with dew, apples nestling together in a barrow, apples on the Heap, and apples in storage. It was a very hot day to be apple harvesting, but I had to get the crop off the ground before the slugs and birds had a feast.
It took me a while to work out where to put them all. The coolest, darkest place was the floor of the shack. I spread paper over the shady side and carefully arranged the apples so they weren't touching. I worked at an apple farm once, so I know what to avoid when storing apples. None without stalks, none with holes, none with bruises. I was a bit lax with the stalks rule, as I hope to be quite soon turning most of them into cider anyway.
It took me a while to work out where to put them all. The coolest, darkest place was the floor of the shack. I spread paper over the shady side and carefully arranged the apples so they weren't touching. I worked at an apple farm once, so I know what to avoid when storing apples. None without stalks, none with holes, none with bruises. I was a bit lax with the stalks rule, as I hope to be quite soon turning most of them into cider anyway.
hummm buzzz
I'm so looking forward to reclaiming the new allotment from the wilds of nature. I am full of new plans. Many of them are buzzing like bees, as I hope long term to keep a hive there. It seems a very involved process, but I'm still not put off, even though I do have a strong reaction to bee stings. I hope to go on a local beekeeping course in January, which should galvanise things for me.
Dearie me
For a few minutes I thought I'd deleted this blog by mistake. I was trying to link two together, and I assumed the first stage was to delete an account. I can see my mad medieval studies teacher now, her eyes bulging, shouting at me, 'NEVER ASSUME ANYTHING!'
It's taught me to make a copy of everything. It's also made me realise how much I've written, and how awful it would be to lose it.
After a lot of searching, I found this wonderful step by step guide:
http://tinyurl.com/mergeaccounts
I also discovered that I can, if I want to, use the address of the account I deleted, if I undelete the account and merge it. However, I like the new address better!
Anyway, I've managed to create a sister blog to this one, to showcase my paintings and share my 'process', as they say. I find art can be a very insular kind of thing, which is perhaps why I haven't done so much of it lately. Being an allotmenteer is much more sociable. So it will be healthy I think to write a blog about my painting.
www.atelierclaire.blogspot.com
Actually I'm hoping that in the end the two activities will come together, as I'm going to recreate my main allotment next year as a kind of natural resource for artistic inspiration. I'm hoping that in this way I will bring my painting out into the community, so that I'm not shut off in a little studio, or in the seclusion of my parent's garden, but in a place where people will see what I am making as I am making it. This might be a little difficult in the winter of course.
It's taught me to make a copy of everything. It's also made me realise how much I've written, and how awful it would be to lose it.
After a lot of searching, I found this wonderful step by step guide:
http://tinyurl.com/mergeaccounts
I also discovered that I can, if I want to, use the address of the account I deleted, if I undelete the account and merge it. However, I like the new address better!
Anyway, I've managed to create a sister blog to this one, to showcase my paintings and share my 'process', as they say. I find art can be a very insular kind of thing, which is perhaps why I haven't done so much of it lately. Being an allotmenteer is much more sociable. So it will be healthy I think to write a blog about my painting.
www.atelierclaire.blogspot.com
Actually I'm hoping that in the end the two activities will come together, as I'm going to recreate my main allotment next year as a kind of natural resource for artistic inspiration. I'm hoping that in this way I will bring my painting out into the community, so that I'm not shut off in a little studio, or in the seclusion of my parent's garden, but in a place where people will see what I am making as I am making it. This might be a little difficult in the winter of course.
Empire building
I've just acquired another allotment! It neighbours mine, and has a greenhouse and a small shed on it. It also has raised beds, and a strange pond made out of a tortoise shaped paddling pool. Not sure what I'm going to do with that. I know I'm going to find a use for the goodly quantity of black plastic covering a large part of it though.
I plan to grow fruit there, and use it as a prep area. The greenhouse is going to be especially useful for propogation and protection of seedlings. My Dad is going to have a lot more space in his next year!
I now have my eye on the one next door to it.....
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