Last Saturday we picked nettle tips. Nettle soup was out of reach (still have no blender) so we had nettle stew, which was not too bad. The soup is probably better.
Oh a whim I decided we may as well try nettle wine, while we had a basket full of stingers. According to the old ripped-out magazine page I followed instructions from (I found it in a book, so I guess this was a plan I made before?) it should be ready the day after tomorrow. So if I fall in the river and die this weekend, that was probably why.
Small-town living is suiting me nicely. It’s been six months today, and I am happy! Footpaths in all directions so I don’t feel trapped, shops in reach by foot. It’s a good balance. There are a lot of fallow fields and meadows and everything is just gorgeous at the moment. I keep bringing pieces of hedgerow home, but wouldn’t you? Don’t you? Gosh, I love Hawthorne. I read I Capture the Castle last Sunday and Cassandra’s thoughts about “May”, the plant, are about Hawthorne. It has two names. I was very much in sympathy with her then.