A plethora of lettuce

 

A plethora of lettuce

                                            Romaine lettuce

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Somehow the stock-taking went awry and we found ourselves with a plethora of lettuce. As the buyer-in, I was somewhat on the defensive and said that we actually eat rather a lot of lettuce most of the time, and proceeded to tear off leaves and eat them.

I really like lettuce – ‘very soporific’ said Beatrix Potter in ‘The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies – and we were soon both chomping lettuce as though having grown enormous incisors and long furry ears and cute little scuts. 

               Image from The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies by Beatrix Potter

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Lettuce – well, the Romaine or Cos lettuce or possibly wild lettuce, depending on which source you care to rely on - was believed by the Ancient Egyptians to be an aphrodisiac and the fertility god Min was thought to gain his sexual energy through its consumption.

On the other hand, the Ancient Greeks served it at the end of banquets as an aid to digestion, to calm the diners and help them to sleep. Different applications for different appetites!

Image from The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies by Beatrix Potter

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Nonetheless, we still had a surfeit of the crisp green leaves, so I suggested lettuce soup. I’ve never made or eaten such a soup, but it sounded a reasonable proposition, so Barry set to and made a large pot of leek and lettuce soup, which was pronounced delicious and definitely a recipe to be repeated.

In the process, we discovered an excess of leeks, so the next day we enjoyed leek, potato and celery soup. We would not normally be eating soup in late June, but it was most enjoyable, especially as the weather was unseasonably chilly. It was so nice to have potatoes again, as we haven't eaten them for a long time.

                                    Fully sated Flopsy Bunnies

Image from The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies by Beatrix Potter

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Robin-a-bobbin no more

 

Robin-a-bobbin no more

An Epitaph on a Robin-Redbreast

Samuel Rogers (1763-1855)

Tread lightly here, for here, ‘tis said,

When piping winds are hush’d around,

A small note wakes from underground,

Where now his tiny bones are laid.

No more in lone and leafless groves,

With ruffled wing and faded breast,

His friendless, homeless spirit roves;

Gone to the world where birds are blest!

Where never cat glides o’er the green,

Or school-boy’s giant form is seen;

But Love, and Joy, and smiling Spring

Inspire their little souls to sing!

Samuel Rogers was a celebrated poet in his lifetime, but his fame was surpassed in time by those of his friends, Wordsworth, Coleridge and Byron.

He had wished to become a Presbyterian minister and was a lifelong member of the Newington Green Unitarian congregation, one of England’s oldest Unitarian churches. His father persuaded him to follow him into banking.

On Friday evening, as we sat enjoying the warmth and the soft air from the garden, our peace was disturbed when Jellicoe shot through the open patio doors like a bat out of hell, to return with a small baby robin. He dropped it on the floor and did not growl when I picked it up, which is quite unusual. Normally, his catches are jealously guarded.

The little creature was still alive and not making any noise, so I took it outside and put it safely in a plant pot, hoping that it might survive and its parents would find it.

However, it died, probably of shock, as there were no marks on its body.

Robins are popularly known as Robin Redbreast, although the colour is more orange than red. Orange as a colour was not known until the 16^th century when the fruit of that name was first introduced to the British Isles. The name ‘Robin’, a diminutive of Robert, was assigned to the little bird in the 15^th century, at a time when giving names to familiar birds was a popular pastime. Thus we have Jenny Wren and Jack Daw among others.

Male and female robins dress alike and their young are brown speckled with gold. The red breasts develop during their first moult when they are two to three months old.

Though robins are sociable and friendly to gardeners, they are fiercely territorial and chase intruders away quite aggressively. Like dunnocks and great tits, they sing nearly all year round, and will often be stimulated to sing by the light from street lamps.

Something small

 

Something small

On my screen this morning, I noticed a tiny moth, about 1 cm from wing tip to wing tip.

It posed quietly for quite a while but was later seen in the kitchen being stalked by Jellicoe. He batted it, and a dark trail was left on the freezer door. I think it must have been made by scales from its wings because I saw it fluttering, so it was obviously still alive.

Sadly, that did not remain the case.  Jellicoe expertly caught it between his front paws and that was its demise.  Herschel just watched. It was too small for his attention – squirrels are more his style.