I’ve just completed winter. Not actual winter, since it’s August and we’re in the northern hemisphere, but the chilliest colourway of the four-season cowl design that I’ll be publishing shortly. But as I said in my last post, this is a British winter, so discard any notions of sparkly white snow against a blue sky, and instead embrace the dank and soggy undertones of sludgy reality. They’re quite pretty once you get used to them. The yarn is Stylecraft Highland Heathers DK.
Next up on my colourway-creating list is summer. And summer looks less sludgy than winter, which is perhaps an inaccurate portrayal of the weather situation around here. Note to self: summer needs a bit more rain-grey, disappointingly-chilly-village-fete-brown, potato-blight-yellow, and uncomfortably-windswept-six-mile-run-blue.
Meanwhile, on the important subject of growing food for my family as a distraction from the horrors of the outside world, it’s the second best month of the year for harvest totals. (October always comes out top.) I keep spreadsheets and graphs of every last gram of food brought inside, so can tell you in an instant whether the blackberries were better this year than in 2020, and whether 2022’s carrots began cropping earlier than usual. But right now in August there are enough plums to sink a battleship (although more efficient means of sinking battleships doubtless exist so please don’t consider this a recommendation), sufficient French beans to fill a colander, and – as a first-time cranberry-grower – enough cranberries to fill… OK, there’s one cranberry. Just the one. Feel free to pop round and behold its miniscule magnificence. I check on it daily as it slowly ripens, just in case it needs a drink or a pep-talk or a bedtime story. It probably gets a little bit lonely on its own. Berries are herd fruits, after all.
Fortunately August is also an abundant time for runner beans, achocha, potatoes, shallots, green beans, blackberries, wild strawberries, onions, calabrese, courgettes, cucumbers, cabbage, edamame beans, and cauliflower. The chickpeas, apples, pears, amaranth, and quinoa are nearly ready, and the grapes are looking promising. I’m learning to cram as much food as possible into our tiny garden (and the beds kindly loaned to me by two friends), with achocha and thornless blackberries scrambling up the fruit trees, and forest-edge plants such as gooseberries, redcurrants, wild strawberries, and wild garlic under the shade of next door’s trees beside the fence. Anything that can be grown vertically occupies minimal ground space and is rewarded with its own metalwork arch for efficient scrambling/climbing. I wanted to illustrate this point with a photo, but… it’s raining. Again. So here’s a picture of a tiny proportion of our plum glut instead.
It’s been a slow change from how I grew years ago, when I attempted to persuade annual food plants to flourish in unsuitable places by sheer force of will. Reader, you will never achieve show-stopping heads of calabrese if you grow them along the fence, under the shadow of next door’s trees. These days it’s all about the perennials, which can push their roots down deep.
A couple of times each week, I wander outside and pick a few bits and pieces for a garden stir fry. This is an idea inspired by reading Alan Carter’s A Food Forest In Your Garden. Seriously, I highly recommend this book, far more so than anything else I’ve read on the subject – and I’ve read a lot. 
If you’re curious to see more (or you want to know what on earth achocha actually looks like), my garden Instagram is here. And of course my knitty Instagram is here.
But let’s return to the important matter of yarn.
The pattern for the cowl is largely complete, although I’m struggling to compile a yarny representation of spring. I’ll publish it soon, with details of how to join the ends of the cowl together using Kitchener Stitch.
It’s a relatively speedy and easy knit, and I’m looking forward to sharing the details.
Until next time, my Fine Fibrous Friends.
Phil x
i love EVERYTHING about this post … all the knitting, the yarn with kitty, and all the yummy veggies! thank you Phil … and i hope you have a gentle autumn! 🙂
Aww, thank you so much! May you also have a magical autumn.
Totally agree!
Thank you. <3
I look forward to purchasing the cowl pattern. I believe I can knit it.
I thought cranberries grew in bogs. TheTexas heat is so intense two cherry tomatoes grew in defiance—stunted though they were/are. The okra grows in baffling patterns that mean none will be eaten this season. Hope springs eternal though.
Apparently boggy conditions aren’t necessary. But yikes to Texas heat. I do envy your ability to grow okra, however. That would never ever cope with our cool damp summers. Stay cool, if possible.
I love your posts dropping into my in box- food, fibres, and smiles of recognition- a dream combination! I hope Cran Berry’s solitude is eased by your befriending, and the kitty-black ball of wool knits up without snagging.
Your colour palettes are always a delight, soggy winter looks great to me. But my solid takeaways this month are, how GORGEOUS that squash looks (ours were duds this year, no fruit), and, thanks for the book recommendation. I’ve been wanting to understand more about forest gardening.
I think your posts are worth rejoining insta for 🙂
Well you’re kinder than I deserve, but thank you from the bottom of my heart for every word of this. May your squash perform infinitely better next year, and may you discover a renewed enjoyment of Insta!
I’d be placing an armed guard on that precious blueberry. After the best crop ever, the last few of mine disappeared in mysterious circumstances. I’m blaming the blackbirds and hoping the little blighters enjoyed them.
Yeah, blackbirds are TROUBLE.
Oops, just realised yours is a cranberry, not a blueberry.
Meh, they’re all pretty similar.
The cowls are lovely, especially the autumn. Warm colours <3 Do I need four cowls, but of course XD Food homegrown is best. I only have herbs at the moment as the renovation, replacing roof etc, took such a long time with scaffolding everywhere that I didn't planted this year. I always share my cherries with the blackbirds <3 Next year my greenhouse will be assembled again. I miss homegrown tomatoes, yellow bulb gourettes and weird lettuce. The whole seedlings on the window sills was no success as the cats thought I planted it for them, and later the slugs had a feast. That one granberry. Indeed a bit lonely. Do read it fairy tales. It might get magical powers if you eat it. You never know, eh, we need a little magic in this mad world.
Thank you so much for your beautiful words. May you achieve abundance again in your garden next year.
Love this post. Thank you.
And thank you from the bottom of my crusty old heart for saying so.
May I suggest you try growing some ShoShi seeds. The kind where the leaves are green on top and red underneath (there are other kinds). It is an Asian plant, a herb, but I grow it because in mid-summer the plants become so beautiful that I just marvel at them. I have them in a long planter. Put them fairly far apart so they leaf out into that luxurious look. However, a neighbor likes to pickle her leaves.
Ooh, that sounds wonderful. Am off to have a Google. Thank you for the recommendation.
All looks so fabulous! Your knitting and your veggies.
What do you do with all this food, how are you preserving it?
Thank you.
I try to grow stuff that doesn’t need power for preservation: so there will soon be winter squash lining the bookshelves and buckwheat/quinoa/amaranth in jars. Some foods – especially grapes – are frozen. Quite a bit of surplus is given away to friends.
The cowl looks lovely in any color! And thanks for the book recommendation, it’s always hard to find gifts for my daughter-in-law who loves growing & cooking organic vegetables.
In that case, PLEASE give her this book. It’s awesome.
Another fabulous report from your part of the world. Those veggies look good enough to eat! Ha ha. Hope you enjoyed them as much as I imagine you did.
Thank you! It’s been good to enjoy food from the garden so far.
Mmmm MM mmmm! Lovin’ those Summmmer Colours! Particularly the Disappointingly Chilly Village Fete Brown and the Uncomfortably Windswept Six Mile Run Blue.
Not really a yellow person but the Potato Blight Yellow does sound Inspirational!
Love Heather
I am currently on Magnetic IsIand, North Queensland, Auuustralia, enjoying the sun,(26’C), breeze, bay and mountain scenery and reading your lovely musings. 😊👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻
Thank you Heather. But also, huge envy of your properly warm temperatures. Hang on, aren’t you people supposed to be in winter whilst we ‘enjoy’ summer???
We’re not quite up to your veg growing standards, yet, but our runner beans are doing magnificently since it turned damp in July. We’ve been inventing new ways of cooking them (‘Thai style’, anyone?) and including them in dishes that list either bean shoots (they were once!) or any form of greens (they’re green!) in the recipe.
Don’t knock it, it’s working, and we don’t have space in the freezer.
We’ve also got plums like yours, and must go pick them before the autumn gales knock them down & we have to fight the Gluttonous Gastropods for them. Now, where’s that adapted pop bottle, the broom handle and the duct tape?
Looking forward to seeing your Spring colour choices
Oh, ENJOY your abundance of runner beans in whatever form you choose to cook them. (I’ve discovered that they’re delicious in a multi-veg roast.) May you enjoy every bit of your garden abundance, and may the Gluttonous Gastropods go somewhere else.
Sending good thoughts and sweet wishes to your cranberry! And, don’t many balls of yarn have ears??? Thank you, as always, for the brilliant post that gives me a bit of glee!
Thank you so much! I’m slightly suspicious of this abundantly-eared ball of yarn…
I’m so impressed with all your foody abundance!
Thank you!
Thank you so much for every one of your posts Phil. You will never know how much they are enjoyed. Everything you say rings true, and the humour makes me chuckle. I sit here with my little dog, and knit, and knit, I don’t know what I would do without my needles and yarn! My dear old nan taught me to knit 53 years ago, but I will never be as good as her. And definitely not as clever as you. But I WILL try that beautifull cowl!
Your garden bounty is impressive, Phil. Clearly your research has paid off. I’m not sure how you find the time to work at what I’m sure is a stressful job, while at the same time raising two boys, crafting gorgeous patterns, planting and maintaining this productive garden and then sharing your experiences with wit and charm via Instagram and your blog. You are the bee’s knees.
“Rain-grey, disappointingly-chilly-village-fete-brown, potato-blight-yellow, and uncomfortably-windswept-six-mile-run-blue” – love it! And such an accurate description of this washout summer.
“…the dank and soggy undertones of sludgy reality. They’re quite pretty once you get used to them.” I shall have to take your word for that. Here in northern Wisconsin, those words describe our landscape from sometime in October (when the last of the leaves fall, except for the oaks, who apparently missed the memo about dropping leaves) until whenever Mother Nature drops a beautiful white blanket over everything. Said blanket will be there until March, so one must learn to love it.. And I love that you keep spreadsheets of everything you grow. As a nerd friend once said, “There is no problem that cannot be solved with a spreadsheet.” (Can you tell I am a retired accountant?) Also, I just love your writing. “Berries are herd fruits, after all…” for example.