Up On Hawthorn Hill Walking unveils a world of hidden wonders Two days ago, after visiting a friend in the village, I walked home, a jaunt of about five miles. I am a walker by nature, but it has been a while since I have taken a walk of any substantial length. Most of our walks around here are two to three miles. That, coupled with working in the gardens and doing chores up here on the hill, usually serves…
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Up On Hawthorn Hill Looking at language changes with displeasure Despite knowing all too well that language is always evolving, there are some aspects of its constant evolution that stick in my craw. My wife is the unfortunate recipient of my constant grousing about things I hear people say on the radio every morning. If I were to compile a list it would be long and, well, possibly annoying to some (especially the guilty!) and characterized as pretty nitpicky. So…
Up on Hawthorn Hill Garlic harvest is one of my favorite routines William Cobbett published his classic on gardening, “The English Gardener,” in 1829. I turn to it often not so much for its gardening advice, but for Cobbett’s often curmudgeonly, sometimes philosophical, comments about certain plants and how to go about dealing with them. Interestingly, his section on what he describes as “garlick,” is short and to the point; plant it, dig it up when ready and hang it…
Up on Hawthorn Hill Wondering where have all the bluebirds gone Ever since we moved into our house on the hill, there have been recurring natural patterns that have enriched our lives. One of those is the annual return of at least one pair of bluebirds. Some summers we have been lucky enough to share the place with two nesting pairs. If my notes are accurate (trusting notes more than memory these days!) normal bluebird behavior is to hang out…
