For those of you who suffer from alliumphobia, look away now, as I’m about to talk about a member of the Lily family....Garlic!

     Over 5,000 years ago the Egyptian slaves downed tools when their daily ration of garlic was stopped. This was probably the first ever labour strike. They used it in cooking and for medicinal purposes. And today, nothing has changed. Garlic (or stinking rose as some call it) is still grown and used all over the globe.

      So what has garlic got that makes it so desirable? Well I do know that it contains polysulphide allicin, ajoene and adenosine and these ingredients are the key to the bulbs health benefits.

      If you rub garlic oil directly onto psoriasis (a skin condition) it will possibly bring relief. Also, by rubbing raw garlic onto athlete’s foot this will speed up the healing process.  Or try placing your feet into a bowl of garlic water. This might or might not work but it is well worth a try. And should you find yourself with a splinter, place a slice of garlic over it then cover with a plaster or bandage to help draw the offending object out!

       And for those of you that keep hens, place a clove of garlic into their drinking water to keep them healthy.

      As for myself, I use garlic in cooking and for medicinal purposes. Here is one of my favourite recipes......

Garlic Potatoes

• 500ml double cream
• 500ml milk
• 3 garlic cloves
• 8 large potatoes
• 100g cheese (optional)

Heat oven to 190C/170C fan/gas 5. Tip the cream, milk and garlic into a large saucepan and bring to a simmer. Slice the potatoes very finely, about 3-4mm, add them to the cream and simmer for 3 mins until just cooked. Gently stir to separate the potato and stop it sinking and catching on the bottom of the pan.

Remove the potatoes and place in a wide shallow ovenproof dish so that they are about 5cm in depth. Pour over the garlic infused cream (discarding the garlic) – just enough to seep through the layers and leave a little moisture on the surface. Scatter over the cheese, if using, then bake for 30 mins until the potatoes are soft and browned – increase the heat for 5 mins if not brown enough.

Shadow Tail lived in a tree overlooking the home for waifs and strays. His bright and beady eyes never missed a trick and quite often, he would race down the tree, head first, and steal food from the hens.

     ‘Why do you steal our food?’ said a hen to Shadow Tail. ‘Aren’t squirrels supposed to be herbivorous and climb trees for nuts?’

      ‘Why don’t you mind your own business?’ replied Shadow Tail, gobbling up the hen food before anyone else had a chance to get some. ‘Anyway, why do you live here when you could be free like me?’

      ‘But we are free,’ said the hen, ‘and safe from the mouth of the fox!’

      ‘Suit yourself!’ said Shadow Tail as he scarpered back up the tree where he lived.  

      ‘And don’t come back!’ the hen shouted after him.

      But the squirrel kept going back and stealing the food. And every time, he laughed at the hens for staying at the home for waifs and strays.

      ‘Be free like me!’ he would shout as he ran like a wild thing back up his tree.

      Then one day, something happened that changed the squirrel’s life forever.

       The lady who cared for the hens was walking down the road when she saw a car coming a bit too fast. But Shadow Tail did not see the car as he ran in front of it. This is why most squirrels die within the first year of their life. Thankfully, the lady ran to where Shadow Tail lay, bloody and cold on the road.

        ‘Thank heavens you’re alive,’ she said softly and took off her coat and wrapped it around the squirrel. ‘You’re coming home with me where we can take good care of you and make you well again.’

        And so it was, Shadow Tail went to live at the home for waifs and strays until he was completely recovered.

        ‘It is almost time for you to leave,’ said the hen. ‘I bet you’ll be glad to go!’  

         Shadow Tail was very quiet. He had come to love the home for waifs and strays and even enjoyed the hens company. They made him laugh with their pecking order. That would never do for him, he thought, he didn’t want to be in any order. He, Shadow Tail Squirrel was born to be free.

         ‘Yes!’ replied Shadow Tail. ‘Yes, I will be glad to go!’

         ‘That’s a shame,’ said the hen. ‘I was hoping you would stick around.’

         ‘Why?’ said Shadow Tail, trying hard not to smile.

         ‘Because we like you,’ said the hen. ‘We all like you.’

         And so it was, Shadow Tail told the truth and said he didn’t want to live on his own all the time but he did like his own space up the tree.

         ‘If it’s ok with you,’ he said to the hen, ‘I will visit you every day but still keep my home in the tree.’ And that is what he did!

Cleaning the garden is much more favourable then cleaning the house! But just like the house, I have a habit of changing things around. The garden never seems to look the same one year to the next and quite often, my kind and unassuming husband (a creature of habit) gets quite exasperated with my ‘uplifting’ projects.  But I cannot help myself! I see things quite differently, one season to the next. And at this time of year, I always feel like I have a clean slate to work on. So it’s out with a spade, a fork and a pair of wellies. Oh! And a sketch pad too!

     Making a map of the garden is something I have always enjoyed doing. It’s a bit like art work! However, just like a sat nav, my paths around the garden don’t always lead to anywhere in particular. But I do try to make the journey interesting by adding plants that make me smile or herbs that, when I brush past them, release a smell that can only be described as delightful!

     Today, I looked at the compost bins and decided they ought to be moved to an area of the garden where they can’t be seen. However, when I turned to walk back up the garden path, I saw my kind and unassuming husband watching me. He was smiling and shaking his head so I guess I will have to work harder on that one.

      And for those of my readers who would like an update on our home for waifs and strays, here a few. Remember the baby chicks we had last June? Well they are fully grown and chase each other around the garden like excited children. Thankfully, they are both girls, so the village won't be woken up early, at least, for the time being!

      All seems quiet in our log store, where last week there was evidence of a polecat or ferret. I guess it’s moved on for the time being, I sigh with relief! And do you remember Miss Broody Pants? Well she is still sitting on an empty nest, wishing and hoping for more young ones. We keep lifting her off and feeding her, but at the first opportunity, she scurries back. ‘You will have to wait until spring,’ I tell her. ‘In fact, we will all have to wait for spring, but meanwhile there’s plenty of work to be done and plenty of mapping before then!’   

Today we have a guest writer, Karen Bown. Although originally from the highlands of North Wales, Karen spends as much time as possible in Athens, with her family.

"It'll soon be Plough Monday," said my great granny Towers, many moons ago. ‘I had no idea what she was talking about.

      It was Christmas and we were sitting besides the old range, watching the kettle boil above the fire. Granny was peeling the potatoes for the evening meal.

      I stared into the flames and wondered what Granny meant by Plough Monday and before I could say anything, she asked me to run to the milking parlour and tell grandpa that the tea would soon be brewed. Jumping down from the large farmhouse chair, I ran to find my boots.

      ‘Don’t forget your hat and coat,’ shouted granny Towers, as I stretched up towards the door latch.   A gust of wind swept across the yard causing me to walk sideways, like a crab.  All the while, I shouted to Grandpa. 

       I found him in the parlour. ‘What is it my pet?’ he called.

      ‘Granny said the tea’s brewed!’ I said breathlessly.

      ‘Aye, that I will,’ he said smiling, ‘but I just need to finish milking Gertie!’  

      I smiled back and sniffed the cold air that smelt of cow and straw.

      ‘Run back to the fire,’ said grandpa, ‘I'll  be done in a wee while but mind crossing that yard in the wind, it be a strong one! I fear there'll be some snow on the tarns tonight.’

     Hurrying back inside I found granny, sitting at the kitchen table, cutting and buttering the bread with the homemade butter she had made, probably from Gertie's milk. It wasn’t long after, the clunk of the latch sounded and grandpa appeared.

    ‘Grandpa,’ I said, ‘come and sit in your chair, I've been keeping it warm till you get in.’

    As my legs weren't quite long enough to touch the floor, grandpa scooped me up into his arms. I could feel the cold on him from outside along with the smell of cow and straw. And he sat for a moment by the fire to warm himself.

    ‘That'll get you warm Grandpa,’ I said, as granny gave him a crust of bread and a steaming mug of tea.

    ‘ Aye,’  he said, ‘and I’ll eat all the crust.’

    ‘Is it true, that if you eat all the crust your hair will turn curly?’ I said, sitting on the floor beside his chair.

   ‘Well, you never can tell,’ he said. ‘But one shouldn’t waste food!’

  After tea I asked Grandpa, what Plough Monday was.

 ‘Well pet,’ he replied, laying his head back in his chair, ‘after the Christmas festivities, all of us farmers have to get back to the land and the animals. They still need feeding after all and they can't go hungry. Traditionally, the farm hands went back to work on the first Monday after Epiphany.’

     ‘What's efipany, grandpa?’ I asked.

     ‘They called it Epiphany a long time ago, after the first sighting of baby Jesus.’

     I looked up to him a bit puzzled and said, ‘but I saw baby Jesus a few days ago when we went to church. Grandpa chuckled and gave me big fat cuddle.

N.b.
I think Plough Monday has moved to the weekend these days as people are working, but I don't think it's well known, if at all celebrated?

Our home for waifs and strays sits comfortably in a small but perfectly formed village in Gower. This is an area of outstanding natural beauty and offers the visitor more than breathtaking views.

     From sandy beaches to hidden coves, from wild moors to green valleys, our Gower home has it all. There are castles and caves to explore and King Arthur’s Stone stands on the Bryn, where it landed all those years ago! Well, supposedly so! Therefore, it is no wonder that I never run short of things to write about.

      I travelled the world over and lived many lives in search of a place where I thought I would settle. I fished the Pacific Ocean and bartered with the Indians, but I was young and life was different then.  

      To sail in seas where the great Orcas swam along side of us, was one of my greatest (wild living) memories. Although these social animals are referred to as ‘killer whales’ they are not really a threat to humans. Only when they’ve been captured and placed in themed parks do you hear of them killing or harming anyone.

       And as many of you know, the Adirondack Mountains, Up State New York, is where I almost lost my heart, but always, always, Wales called me back home to the place where I was born and raised to be a free spirit.

       Do I regret it? No, I don’t! For me, there is nowhere I would rather be than here in our home for waifs and strays, with my kind and unassuming husband, in Gower!