On saying nothing and tempremental indeterminate tomatoes

I need some wedding wellies, what colour shall I pick.

OK, so I'm not actually dead. I'll bet you're happy to know that. I'll apologise for my prolonged silence. I've been taught when you've nothing good to say, best just keep your chops shut. So I have. Its been a midery, miserable August mainly, so I've held my wheesht and just got my head down. I can't say that anything in particular has given me the hump, I've just been grumpy. However although the weather is sadly deteriorating up here in the frozen windy, wet, north, the mood is finally brightening. I've come to terms with the days shortening and the season changing. I'm also attempting to cheer myself up by doing some wellie shopping for our forth coming wedding - no clue what colour to pick, perhaps red for a change............

 

So - how on earth are you all? And what on earth have you been up to since we last touched base?

 

Well for me - although my mood has resembled a soor plum, its been a busy month. We moved a building on to my site at work. I got some glamorous gear to wear to mark the occasion. Steel toe cap boots and a hard hat are so THIS year. They really are. And I wonder why folks don't recognise me in frocks when I look like this most of the time.

 We've been down 'sooth' and visited, paced out and pondered over the wedding venue to decide where's best to do the 'we do' bit - the best we managed was to find a meeting venue :) I think it looks quite nice don't you? Although given the seating arrangements, most folks I think will stand. Its getting ready to glam itself up in autumn colour, a beech forest in October is a sight that can hardly be beaten.

 We've enjoyed a random mixture of weather up here - mainly misty, a bit of rain, a bit of sun. Now we're noting a marked change in the weather. The wind has shifted, gusting at 46MPH today, I fear its not long until the leaves are off to Norway and autumn passes through for a day or so to be replaced by an early winter.  There are calves by the cottage in our village, always happy to say hello, whatever the weather.

 Early in the month we did have the excitement of the letter with the 'Higher' grades for the cellist popping through the door. Whilst these days results are gained by email or text - the flurry of the postie and the plop of the envelope on the mat still holds a certain excitement.

 And she was as pleased as punch. She got her grades whilst she was in France, via email. Her home alone mother was able to open the letter in Orkney and feel as proud as punch for her. She did really well. And, now she's off at university open days. Whilst she has another year at school, the university applications begin now. With grades like these, I'm hoping the world truly is her lobster. She works hard. A very proud day.

Whilst the august days have been mixed with sunshine and showers, the garden guru escaped and I was charged with the tunnels. They are full of sweet peas with a scent to die for, courgettes changing into marrows at the blink of an eye, beans clambering up to reach the sunshine and tomatoes, lots and lots of tomatoes sprawling everywhere ready to trip you up as soon as look at you. Personally I am still at a loss why folks grow indeterminate tomatoes, (The kind that climb and climb and trip you up) as I tied in (on a daily basis) several hundred of them, unruly, tempremental and insubordinate (you did know tomatoes are pesky fiends didn't you?) I am still perplexed as to why they're grown at all. Especially in our short season.  Bush varieties put less energy into growing upwards and scullduggery, they grow short, flower and produce luscious fruit.

Quite frankly, I prefer bush varieties. Maybe its cos they make me feel like a giant? Mainly its because they grow in their dense squat manner, then fruit. They grow politely, no nonsense. They do not need tied in nor have their sideshoots pinched out regularly. They do not need captured on a daily basis. They grow, they stop, they flower, they fruit. Clearly bush tomatoes have gone to finishing school. The other kinds put me in the mind of herding cats, utterly impossible to keep up with. I can hear the space issues and the varieties on offer might temp some, but I, I have agreed to my self, am not a fan. Nor will I grow them myself. I am a bush tomato kinda gal.

 

Never fear they (the tall ones who shall not be named) exacted their revenge for my lack of lustre for them, each time I watered them, I got soaked. At 45 years of age, you'd imagine I'd be able to water tomatoes without soaking myself, it would seem not. They seem to have some sort of control over the hose. As the indeterminate beasts tittered, and escaped their careful tying in, I exacted my revenge by eating their offspring. It seemed only fair. It may seem callous but I really don't care for scrawny unruly tomatoes. I patted my own cheerful bush tomatoes on the heads and told them how clever they were.

Saturated legs, thankfully the tiny shoes kept my feet dry until the socks leaked down into them. Never annoy a tomato - they turn the hose against you.

There's also been a fair amount of petulant walking during my August of doom. The hoonds however never pay heed to my nonsense. Safest really.

 So we walked on beaches and we walked up the lane by the cottage. Some days the sun came out and some days the mist entrenched us like a blanket.

 Some days we even wore 'bare' arms, but not for long. The weather is turning, just like it did last September.

The nights are shorter, the wind is getting up again. So whilst the summers pretty much over up here,  there's still lots to look forward too.

 

1 week until Mr Flowers puts in another appearance up north.

 

2 weeks until my son moves back down to university and into his first flat. He's raiding the house for handy items and expects me to drive the loot down to Ayr. I guess that's called aiding and abetting isn't it?

 

3 weeks until I meet up with a few lovely chums to plan out the wedding feast - all home made. This requires a fair quantity of Gin to focus the mind. Its tradition.

 

4 weeks until panic sets in as its.........not long until we acquire a husband, albeit a p/t one for a while.

 

50 days until we toddle off into a forest and finally, actually get married.

 

And, less than a year until we find our forever house and garden and begin a new life, away from the islands and keep chickens again. Nearer to the children who will both be off at university, nearer to my friends and family, nearer to a longer growing season and further from the gales.

 

I really can't wait. Whilst I've loved living up here, with its beautiful skies and challenges, its time to move forward. Onwards.