Bulbs in the shed

November 26, 2009

It has been a glorious Indian summer of an autumn: crisp golden leaves catching in my hair and tumbling across the grass as I walk in the park. But now the clouds have burst to soak the leaf fall which pastes the streets like papier mache. London is good at this time of year quieter, more mellow. In the deepening shadows the city squares and churchyards seem more secret, invitations into the past.

At weekends it’s hat, scarf and ribbed tights weather. Dark sunday afternoons are for eating cake and idling at an exhibition. I really really recommend the visual magic at The Museum of Everything, showing unseen artists, who create their work outside the eyes and ears of the art world. Take Judith Scott, who made sculpture from household objects entirely hidden by being wound-about over and over by wool and yarn. Scott had Down’s syndrome, and only communicated through these things. They’re very convincing, together with the spirit drawings of medium Madge Gill, and the ceramic recycled kingdom of Indian roads worker Nek Chand. The works are unintentional, delicate and profound.

What a contrast at Tate Modern where Pop Life: Art in a Material World is billed as a foray into the world of the celebrity artist. It includes Andy Warhol wallpaper, Damien Hirst’s golden spot paintings, a reconstruction of Keith Harings’s Pop Shop and some unappealing top shelf stuff in the over 18s’ room. The artist as commercial brand continues to flow into the shop where Tracey Emin white mugs are a whopping ¬¨¬£15.00. It all left me feeling rather flat and anxious to go home and do something nourishing like collect the bean and nicotiana seeds from the pods I’ve been drying by the boiler.

I wake up to the door bell and a postman (something of a rarity during the recent post strikes) bearing a cardboard box with perforated holes from Crocus. It’s the tulip bulbs: Lilac Perfection, Tulipa White Parrot and Tulipa Violet Beauty. All to be planted asap. Six inches isn’t too deep too keep out the the foxes and squirrels who enjoy a crunchy bulb or two..or three….or more. By the way, bulbs are poisonous if eaten by humans and can be irritating to the skin.

A couple of weeks ago I planted up of bowls with specially forced bulbs of hyacinths, paper whites, and crocuses so we will hopefully be surrounded by gorgeous scent and colour over christmas.The secret is to keep them cool and in the dark to let them develop good roots before bringing them into the warmth and light.

Now for some trumpet blowing: Remodelista editor, Sarah Lonsdale has voted my blog as one of her top ten eclectic design blogs. And I’m ‘Queen of Simple’, no less, in Grazia magazine where there’s a piece on the house in Olhao. Speaking of which, hooray! hooray! almost a year to the day, we have the licence to start work on The Room on Top. Who knows what will be in store, once Mr Martinho’s gang arrive and start the heavy work? I will keep you posted.

A room isn’t a room without Farrow and Ball’s ‘Teresa’s Green’, it’s my current passion, having just re-painted the tv room. A room isn’t a room without a dog, but unlike paint which can be painted over if you get fed up with it, a dog is for life. Should be, but round here ‘weapon’ dogs roam the streets with hoodied youths who can’t look after themselves, let along something on four legs. We found a sad, abandoned and emaciated staffie with sores and trailing claws who clambered wearily into the back of the car and let me take her to Battersea Dogs Home. If you want to rescue her she is Brindle/White SBTX

What with all the leaves pouring off the trees it seems a little unseasonal to be to picking remnants of a summer flower garden: a few rose heads, nasturtiums and so on. I hope it’s not because of climate change. But then Pepys describes roses blooming in his London garden in the middle of December, and that was hundreds of years ago before we’d begun to stifle the planet. Anyway, it’s good to press the petals between the pages of the telephone directory for simple decorations that you can stick on your christmas cards.

The warm conditions followed by wet this autumn have been a fungi foragers dream. My family really got into searching for porcini, (penny buns) field mushrooms, chanterelles, blewitts and parasols when we lived in Spain. These are edible mushrooms that are quite easy to identify. The locals there were crafty so and sos and thought nothing of raiding their neighbours’ fields before daylight.

On a stroll through Berkshire parkland we found parasols (actually umbrella shaped) poking up beneath gnarled trunked oak trees. They’re very tasty fried in a little butter with parsley, but as with all edible mushrooms you shouldn’t eat them in large quantities because they’re hard to digest.