It's divine to come home after a long weekend away; I let myself in the side gate and smelled the sweetness of the overhanging branc hof blossom, simlutaneously a ? begins its shrill, melodious call which sings out into the evening air. Yes, the question mark. By now I should know what it is that I have heard - but I don't. Ah, but now I hear a blackbird's warning call in the bushes, that strange evocative chuckle. I have finally identified the mystery caller of the evening 'neep'; again, the blackbird. He is without doubt now my favourite bird; so simple in design with his fluid form and bright beak. His 3 calls are all wonderful; the fluting song, neither an encore nor a melody, his trademark chuckle and now the evening 'neep' - his alarm call, apparently.

A few weeks ago around May Bank Holiday time I was up at 4am to go on a bird call walk in Pensthorpe in Norfolk. I dont know that I can identify as many as I would like but I did get a chiff chaff, robin, wren and blackbird right, and the wonderful wooden-piped coo of a cuckoo skirting sleeky overhead was a dead giveaway. Amongst all the wetland it was unsurprising to hear alot of reed and willow warblers with their strange buzz and whistle. Probably not something Iwould hear down here in Surrey.

One of my favourite calls is the cack cack of a jackdaw, but those, heard in great throngs remind me of Yorkshire more than anything else where they used to swirl en masse around the great oak tree.

This evening the garden was lush and green after the weekend rain and smelt characteristically fresh, especially when mixed with the ongoing sweet smells of spring. Entering, the kitchen was cosy and clean as ever and the living room smelled of warmed wood and old, beloved textiles, ancient glass windows and drying papers and petals.

The sweet smell of Spring

First come the snowdrops, then the pretty primroses, the carpet of crocii and then bright, jolly Daffs; everywhere the trees are now luminous with the young green of Spring or weighed down with fluffy pink or white blossom against the perfect clear blue sky untainted by vapour trials or glimmering aircraft. Thursday morning and the sky was so quiet the clouds themselves could almost be heard to move and for once I really observed the quiet all-encompassing movement of these giant masses in the sky, swirling in their natural dance through the air, blown by the winds and the high pressure.

Here are some more shots from around the garden as it suddenly bursts into life after the long, cold Winter.

And this year the blossom is spectacular. I read a piece about Blackthorn in The Independent and since then have been spying it's wonderful spindly branches with their look of hoarfrost everywhere. And the cherry blossoms bursting their blooms out on the trees by roadsides in the village and in practically every road and street I look. I feel like Spring has never looked this good.

Holly's Houses Custom Made House stamps

A bit of self PR here I'm afraid.

For the past few months I have been working on my new project Holly's Houses - my house portrait and illustration service.

I hit on the idea a while back of making my drawing of my house into a rubber stamp (I'll feature this in a day or so).

I was so pleased with the result I thought I'd see if other people would be interested so I started making some of my drawings into custom made rubber stamps.

I'm very happy to say that people seem to really like it - I was also over the moon when the fabulous design blog design*sponge decided to feature them as one of their news stories. Here's a couple of pics - and a pic of the view from my studio (er..bedroom) whilst taking the pics - very postmodern!

Thanks to all my lovely customers so far.

Bird Stamps

This stamp is made from a drawing I did of a little bird like the ones I often see from the windows of the house hopping about on the plantpots and walls around the garden.

I used it on my Christmas and New Year cards, each one utterly unique, coloured in watercolour.


They looked very apt in festive colours; gold and claret coloured wings, ivy-green undersides and a bright red flick for the tail.

In Detail: The Drawing Room

The dark winter nights drawing in have meant I haven't been able to crack on with photographing everything as I would have wanted so progress has been slow.

However, I thought I would start recording some of the beautiful details of the house anyway starting with the Drawing Room.

This room is either lit by the bright streaming sun of a winter morning or warmed by lamp or firelight in the evenings so the ambient halflight in these photos evokes all it needs to, shining off the faces of the ladies in the prints and the gilt detailing of their frames.

Remember, remember the fifth of November.

Gunpowder, Treason and Plot.

I see no reason why Gunpowder Treason

Should ever be forgot.

As I mentionned in an earlier post about 'The Orchard', as my birthday falls in Mid-November we usually celebrate with a traditional bonfire party; fireworks, towering inferno, sparklers, hot dogs: the lot. When I was a child the heatproof foam cups that warmed our hands held creamy tomoto soup but in recent years hot, spicy cider has been added to the menu, and has achieved cult status as 'GROG', our Winter drink (and wet festival) favourite as a result. Here's the recipe we've used in recent years.

In other places the garden persists in colour - the rose still going strong amid gales and downpours, now redundant terracotta pots resting until next Spring and the Holly, bright and green, and looking forward to it's time entwined with ivy above the big mirror in the Dining Room looking down on turkey and sprouts and mahogany shining in the candlelight. For now it hangs in glossy green bunches and little gatherings of bold, crimson berries.

Autumn continues here with long Sunday afternoon walks in the woods and the clocks going back. At least I am able to see some of the day now when I rise at 6.30 and the dawn is beginning to break. My evenings are now just long and dark but the living room at home is cosy and welcoming as usual.

The trees are now showing their bare boughs as their summer coverings are blown to the ground in blustery gales or shimming october breezes in beautiful swathes of russet, gold and crimson, crunching and mulching underfoot.

The Mallow is still going; its pink heads alert to the onset of Winter, they begin to whither slightly in the chill but still shine on against the deep, bright blue skies and warm, toasted colours of Autumn.