Pins, Plants, and Pikes

On a journey of discovery, learning to sew, forage, and better myself for the future with some help from the past.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

First Walk 24/08/2020

I moved to Scotland a week ago, and haven’t really ventured out beyond a little tour of the village to orient myself. On that short walk I saw the beauty of the river, and knew there was going to be a lot of walks following it.

I’d followed it a bit to the left from the perspective of these photos, but have plans to go that way in the early morning with my host, and we hope to meditate on the shore since it’s so gorgeous and peaceful. So, today I decided to go right, partially in the hopes of finding blackberries.

I found comfrey, poor man’s mustard, nettles, hogweed, dandelion relatives, something plum-like, and so many other edible or usable plants, I’m very excited. I found something similar to elder but I’m not quite sure, I’ll have a look again as the berries ripen. And I did find brambles... but not really with any berries, and those berries that there were were so sour. Instantly spat out levels of sour.

But I carried on walking, because the river and pathways were just so gorgeous, who even cares about blackberries when you can see this?

The light was so glorious today, and the play of light and shadow on the water and around the plants made me really wish I had a proper photography nerd with me with a massive camera set up and good editing software rather than just using my phone. But oh well, I get the point across well enough.

I was quite disappointed this optical illusion rock didn’t come out very well though.

I followed the river path through a small park and then it opened up to reveal this:

I think I have some new cover photos out of this lot! But when I started nearing the little white building in the distance, my phone dropped to under 35% battery which dictated I turn back - being as I don’t know the area well on the off-chance I took a wrong turn and got lost!

I have but one final thing to share, and it wrenched my heart. A lot of people have probably forgotten or never knew this, but my dissertation meant I learned all about the horrible events this plaque is commemorating.

It seemed a fitting end to my first walk, and a sign of sorts that my move was to the right place.

[just-shower-thoughts]

Building a treehouse is the biggest insult to a tree. “I killed your friend, here hold him.”

[unclebeanbag]

“Friend”

Its more of I killed a potential enemy. Hold his dismembered corpse in victory.

[ulysseus]

Plants don’t wage war

[unclebeanbag]

Ever heard of blackberries?

Yes, plants do wage war

[kasaron]

Mint and strawberries, too. They need to be quarantined or they will kill basically everything else. 

[systlin]

I planted mint in the ground 2 years ago.

It’s currently fighting a bitter battle to the death against the raspberries attempting to invade from the east while trying to annex the patio.

Could go either way at this point TBH. Unless, of course, I take a shovel and the blowtorch out there and battle both back to within their original boundaries.

And anyone wondering if a blowtorch is overkill for weeding back mint has never actually planted mint.

[moirakatson]

This post did not go where I expected it to.

[deathbeforednf]

Our garden plot at my childhood home slowly got overrun by wild blackberries after we stopped managing it while my sister and I were in nursing school. And by overrun I mean it was like a 4 foot tall thicket of wild blackberries. It hadn’t been touched by humans in at least 4 years. I started the ultimately futile task of trying to clear this plot with a machete and discovered to my amazement a patch of mint several feet across underneath the canopy of blackberry, still fighting the good fight all those years later.

Ultimately it took two jars of homemade napalm and some creative fire placement to clear that patch but I damn sure saved that patch of mint. It earned the right to be there.

[norseminuteman]

Yall mother fuckers don’t even talk unless you’ve had to wage war on kudzu (it’s an ivy strain directly from Hell) that shit doesn’t just wage war with other plants, it wages war with all living things on planet earth. It’s some gnarly ass Blood for the Blood God, Chlorophyll for the Chlorophyll Throne demon weed. 

[breadgunner-deactivated20181003]

Can second the comments of Kudzu.

I forget where I read it but there’s this one tree that creates an extremely flammable substance that’s in both the bark and leaves. Dead trees become torches and crushed up leaves become dust-incendiary, all while the plant’s seeds are Giant Redwood levels of resilient to open flame. IE it has a goddamn scorched earth policy. It’s even more badass than plants that use toxins to starve other plants.

[booksandwildthings]

I’d like to third the comments on Kudzu. These are the battlefields:

See those weird pillars? Those were trees. See that strange lump in the middle? That was a house. Everything green you see in this photo is kudzu.

[nevercure]

Kudzu is an apocalyptic nightmare

They smother every other living plant to death

Those trees under there are dead, they can’t get sunlight. Kudzu takes over and steals everything from these trees, and becomes them. It’s creepy as hell. These plants are basically straight out of a horror novelist’s wet dream tbh.

The bodies of everything the kudzu has slain.

What used to be a house

Someone attempting to drive a four wheeler through it, to give you scale

It’s an ornamental plant kept in check in china, but was introduced to north america where it immediately went rampant and began to spread incredibly fast like a disease, destroying everything in its wake

The ONLY thing that has stopped this curse from engulfing the united states is goats. Apparently goats love this stuff like no tomorrow. Everywhere we find it now, we just bring a horde of goats to cut it down. Everything is fine…. for now.

[nevercure]

Kudzu is on time magazine’s top 10 invasive species to look out for.

This little buddy doing his part

[nevercure]

Not to keep spamming this post but 

“the growth of kudzu as it became a “structural parasite” of the South,[7] enveloping entire structures when untreated[11] and often referred to as “the vine that ate the South”.[13]”

“It has been spreading rapidly in the southern U.S., “easily outpacing the use of herbicide spraying and mowing, as well increasing the costs of these controls by $6 million annually”.[2]“

yall it’s been estimated this plant consumes 600 kilometers of the united states every year

it’s been suggested that we just start eating it to make it go away

[kiwilemonteanonsense]

Adding to the spam: yes, kudzu IS edible. In fact, all parts of it but the vine are edible. The leaves are supposedly great in salads or baked into quiche. The flowers supposedly are great in jam. The roots… Well, if you know how to cook other root vegetables, you know what to do with kudzu root. Feed this stuff to your livestock and cook it.

Eat it before it eats your house.

[vagaybond]

@solarpunkcast @solarpunkactionweek @solarpunkinspo @enviropunk feels relevant

[crittizen]

In this world it’s eat or be eaten

[thecringeworthybarisax]

As a person who lives in the south. They are completely right about the kudzu. On the highway that lead out of town, you can see old abandoned gas stations and dinners and truck trailers that have been taken over by kudzu. On my aunt’s old house, her back yard had a “gate” of kudzu surrounding the house. It was so wierd

[krystal-prisms]

Plant this somewhere around your enemies house but only if you live a safe distance away

[sushigrade]

Kudzu does not have a safe distance. It will find you.

[goingtiny]

Moral of this Thread: 

Build your treehouse at the top of the biggest, toughest tree you can find, and then just go up there and eat all the kudzu off the trunk of your tree below the house when climate change finally comes to North America and you have to be totally self-sufficient.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

I am ashamed of myself for not getting around to this post for so long. But lockdown coping mechanisms are what they are, and this is one.

In the past few years of re-enactment I had thought I didn’t like gin. It was bitter and chemically and all round foul to my taste buds. And last year when I ran out of lemonade for a St Clement’s (orange juice and lemonade) at my aunt’s house, It tried substituting tonic water. Big mistake! (For me at least, your mileage may vary) The drink was suddenly chemically and I could scarcely get to the bottom of the glass, which I only did because I hate to waste food and drink.

It was this incident that gave me the revelation that perhaps it was the tonic water in the typical gin and tonic I was finding distasteful. And so I experimented, and lo and behold! Gin is suddenly perfectly palatable and even quite enjoyable in the right circumstances.

In February this year I went to The Enchanted Market in Bracknell and encountered a mead company imaginatively called The Mead Company and bought three bottles, two of which I have subsequently bought again, the Grimnir and the Asgard, both rich and sweet and delicious. 

But this blog post is really about the other people I met. I had initially been going to walk right past them since I had thought of gin as just okay at that point. But something caught my eye, the beautiful typeface on the label in golden lettering said “Mead gin” and that was a fusion I could not pass up. So I did a doubletake, confirmed what I had seen on the bottle was true, and turned back to have a closer look.

The lady running the stall was very friendly and chatted with me about my interest in mead and recent revelations about gin. She told me about the origin of the fusion being a serendipitous occasion of mead not ready in time for a wedding then being distilled, and the result being glorious. I expressed my distaste for tonic water and she brought out some lemonade for me to try it with. I fell in love instantly and bought a bottle. If I had had the carrying space I would have bought more. Some part of me wishes I had anyway.

I brought it with me to my regimental banquet in March just before lockdown began. It was much enjoyed, but with the great quantities of alcohol going around was unfinished. While a bit upset that it didn’t vanish because people guzzled it, I was delighted, because all the more for me!

Since then it has been a fight of sparing the remaining amounts of the bottle, to truly savour its sweetness rather than just devour it and have it be wasted on me getting wasted. I promised one of my friends I would save some for them, but with the length of lockdown buckled under that promise and continued to drink it myself for fear of it somehow going bad by the time we get out. I am horrified to think of the idea of somehow losing any of it to something so low as corking issues. But because I am a good friend I have kept one or two shares, maybe for a special occasion for myself, or to bring out for that friend if we do get to meet up within the year. I live in hope.

Since then I have ordered two bottles from Perryley’s regular collection. The Rhubarb, and the Elderflower looked as if they would suit my tastes, and so far the Elderflower is delightful, if less sweet than the mead gin - though that is to be expected. I received an email immediately after ordering saying that because of lockdown I would not be having my order delivered through the postal service. I fully expected this to mean I would not receive my purchase for months, and was happy with this as I wanted to support the business regardless, especially as I had just seen their charitable acts towards local schools and care homes. But what the email instead stated, was that I would receive my gin, hand delivered, that day. I was ecstatic, and so I wrote a note, thinking that with lockdown regulations it would be a drop the order, ring the bell, and run.

My note elaborated on our meeting, and my thanks to the company for their product and their actions. But instead I got to meet one of the owners, who personally thanked me for my purchase, and for my previous Facebook message praising the mead gin.

I was also told I could personally ask for a bottle of mead gin from their private stock. I have been too shy and embarrassed to do this, but the gesture is greatly appreciated.

My father pointed out afterwards that this is the kind of occasion I could have tried to wangle my way into a job with such friendly businesspeople, but again I wasn’t quite sure how to approach that given lack of experience in the industry, and particularly in the current situation.

After very happily wishing the owner farewell, and watching as he pocketed the note I had written, I rushed my package upstairs to delightedly unwrap its contents. I was amazed by the quality of the packaging. I had to stab through the air pocket to remove the bottle. I am ashamed to say I initially tried to remove it (in hopes of reusing the air pocket) by pulling it out by the neck. The bottle did not budge, and instead the cork came off in my hand, spilling a few millilitres onto my hand which I happily licked off. This is how i decided to start with the Elderflower by the way, it opened itself, it was fate.

Once out of the packaging I admired the bottle, it was just as beautifully labelled as its predecessor. When the Rhubarb was out as well, I put them on my windowsill to fully appreciate them glistening in the light. After not too long I took them down and put them safely on the floor where there was no chance of them falling to their doom. That would have been terrible.

I am now a little over halfway through the Elderflower, and have been enjoying it immensely. And I know have some friends in Scotland who are eager to try some since they have seen me drinking it during their virtual regimental meetups which I have been invited to partake in even though I am of a different brigade.

I very much hope to see Perryley at events in the future, for I shall certainly be purchasing from them again, and again, and again.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

Gamboling in the garden 21/04/20-16/05/20

There was me, oh so innocently digging over and sifting the soil of my intended vegetable patch. And I put my foot down to collect fhe next bucket of earth to sieve, and kept going.

My leg was down this hole to over my knee. And i had to hold onto my flipflop with my toes for dear life. A silly part of my brain wondered if a mole might bite me.

After clearing, turning and wetting the soil in the two beds (which have subsequently become three after branching out even further) it was time to add some seedlings! 

Since the propagators of bean seedlings were bursting with little friends they were first into the ground. They quickly took over one patch and a whole bed in another area.

Next up was home grown chard seeds which you can see on the left, and shop bought larger chard on the right. I was a bit distressed that my homegrown seeds may be overshadowed by their older neighbours, but so far the little ones are flourishing.

The same, however, can not be said for the shop bought. After watering they wilted, and some have not truly recovered. My aunt put it that they are ‘in shock’ and perhaps a little more delicate than other plants. We do after all eat chard by wilting it with warm water...

This happy little lettuce keeps getting bigger and is one of my accomplishments. The other lettuces haven’t done anything at all so far!

A wider view of the bed with the addition of my cat Chatty, wondering what’s going o and why the humans are allowed to dig here but he isn’t. He then peed on the potato area immediately after this photo. Such a facepalm moment.

Most recent in the additions are broccoli in the Secret Garden around the front of the house. And this lovely little selection of the gourd family on the mound. Pumpkin and marrow at the back, squash in the middle, and yellow and green courgettes nearest. Such a shame that the day after this photo was taken the pumpkin had rather flopped, it looks like the stalk has snapped. I am very sad to have doomed it that early.

I had another slight setback in watering my beans too late in the day when it would be chilly overnight, I thought nothing of it given it wasn’t a proper freeze, but the moisture after dark led to some of my seedlings getting frostbite. They may recover, but probably not.

At least it’s only a few of them. Maybe a third of one patch, but that’s nothing compared to the 60+ total! But still, lessons learned. Do not water them after dark, especially not if it will be under 6 degrees overnight.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

Assorted plants and insects, or at least evidence of insects from 2nd, 6th, 8th, 14th May.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

A collection of wider shots from my walks dated 2nd, 8th, and 14th of May 2020.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

The Common and Uncommon 29/04/20

I didn’t go out looking for plants today. I went out after 7pm, just glad that the light continued, and feeling stir crazy and needing the open air.

I walked the familiar roads to the nearby common, and they were lined with matured Poor Man’s Mustard, which brought tears to my eyes that I could find the adult version of my first proper plant identification.

And all its many many many friends, cousins, aunts nieces and relatives too obscure to name!

This place still has so much to show me. Every time I come I find a new patch, a new tree, rock, glade, or area wholly new.

I bumped into someone I knew who directed me down a path I had yet to take, saying only that I would see it about 30 foot from the road.

It being this gorgeous fairy garden, with a swap shop of painted rocks, and some loving notes for the NHS.

It might be my first ever moment of true pride in my country, to see these signs of devotion and love where no one will necessarily hear them, and unlike the clapping it is not a public display to proudly declare yourself part of. 

It feels a quiet, personal, and wholly more meaningful sort of love.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

Locked In, Plant Out (4/04/20 -

I started by trying to propagate seeds in damp kitchen towels. To no result whatsoever other than lots of damp paper and a funky smell.

After over a week of that, I tried to plant those seeds into soil, along with many others from the seed packets at my disposal (all very old) in hopes something might happen.

In the various pots are seeds for radishes, chard, pumpkins, courgettes, any number of lettuce variants, peppers, pattipans, sweet peas (the flower) and probably a dozen other things I’ve forgotten but just sprinkled in hope.

From a garden center were bought saplings for chillies and dwarf and French beans. 

As well as some trays of pansies to go in our hanging baskets which I keep forgetting to water.

So far, the chard row of seeds seems to be taking root and shooting up, but everything else is either completely expired, potentially a weed, or only one seed has survived out of dozens. 

I will give them till the end of April then go from there on what has made it through. We’ll have chard and beans at the very least.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

A Cotton Pocketing Minute (completed 17/04/20)

My fabric arrived! A little late, but with all that’s going on it’s fair enough I supposed. It’s a meter by 45inches (I think? I will measure to be sure) of ivory poplin cotton. I’ve looked into what poplin means, but it rather went over my head. The pertinent point though, is that it should be fully natural materials, and not melt like plastic if gunpowder cinders get on it.

Before I ordered the fabric, I’d already done the seam ripping in the appropriate place, and the day before the fabric arrived I checked and drafted my pocket pattern and dimensions. It’s a bit smaller than the other pocket, but will hopefully therefore be a more manageable depth. While I love a pocket that reaches to my knee, it’s a bit unhelpful if I want to get something small which sinks to the bottom.

The pattern is drawn, cut, and pinned. I have put it in different positions to find the most efficient on not wasting fabric.

I just can't find the courage to cut.

My Brummie Mummy and general mentor has given constant encouragement and reminded me her first fabric she cut herself was SILK so this is nothing to worry about.

With the strains of Ella Roberts' rendition of Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond, here we go!

First snip.

I have learnt within a few centimetres that this is very difficult with a cat on your lap and limited light! It also didn’t take long to wish for fabric scissors, which there may have been some of in the house, but I didn’t want to go looking so just continued on carefully, using the very base of my scissors.

With it cut, I pinned the edged over to neaten them up, and ironed them sort of flat (because with curves and limited experience true flatness is a pipe dream). From there I pinned the two ironed pieces together and took them to the machine.

Sewing the seams was... more difficult than anticipated. How close I had to hold the fabric to get the stitching that near the edges let to a cut finger and crushed thumb from the mechanism trapping my hand on more than one occasion. But, lesson learned, be more careful and mindful of hand placement.

With the pocket shape secured on both sides as you can see above, this left the opening. I deliberately didn’t cut the opening as it would be the most difficult bit to make sure was the right size until the every end. I was right to do this, as some of the curve of the pocket needed to become part of the opening to have enough space for my hand. 

With this information I pinned to flaps outwards to the right length, trimmed off the excess, then pinned in the flaps on the inside to sew up.

Here I was tempted to hand sew, but I fought the urge for the simple way out and went back to the machine, holding the folded and trimmed sections very carefully. One, so I wouldn’t get hurt again, and two, so the machine wouldn’t sew my opening pieces together, making a lovely sewn oval that would be completely useless and not at all a pocket.

And here is the completed pocket next to its partner just before being sewn into my breeches. I am loving and laughing at the contrast of pure ivory white and the gunpowder stained grey. They will match soon enough if I get my way! I may shove some powder in at my first event back just for the hell of it. Give it a good powder scrub to remove all the white.

All that was left was pushing the pocket into the picked open seam and sewing it into place. I was recommended a ladder stitch as method of choice, but I’m not very good at it. My patience and precision is lacking, so the end result wasn’t as invisible as I would have liked, but it would do.

I can always redo it again at a later date if anyone ever actually notices. Not that they ever will, because who would ever study a soldier’s pockets in great detail?

[pinsplantsandpikes]

Pocket Making Machine (4/04/20 - 11/04/20)

At the beginning of lockdown I set out to add pockets to more of my clothes that are missing them. It’s a mission against misogynistic fashion. While I intend to not buy clothes without pockets, I can’t do much about the ones I already own and like, or the ones bought for me.

So I have been adding pocket to my 3/4 length trousers. I started excellently by cutting the wrong bloody seam. A rookie mistake, measure twice, cut once, everyone should know that mantra. But I clearly zoned out and cut the wrong side of the seam, ending up with on pocket far larger and one smaller than I really wanted. Observe the image of the different widths in horror.

But I was happier with wonky pockets than with two small pockets, so I continued as intended... by going to the sewing machine for the first time.  I pinned the seams down and ironed them. Not perfectly flat or straight since I’m only learning, but good enough for my needs. Functionality is the goal first of all, I can make it prettier as I get better.

I plucked up all my courage and set the scrap of ironed and pinned fabric onto the sewing machine, checked all the settings, got the thread and needle in position, then put my foot down on the pedal. 

The machine damn near took off without me.

And that is how I learned the footpedal has a pressure guage! Haha! Dad’s girlfriend came in and laughed, just shaking her head to say, “Maybe a little less pressure.”

It was a good learning experience.

So from there I pinned the flat pieces to the trouser legs, tested the angles and depth, the size of the openings, and handsewed the smaller, left hand side pocket in. It took several hours but I did it through a few Zoom calls for something to do so it wasn’t much hardship.

Then the next day I used the sewing machine for the larger pocket and it took less than 20 minutes! The power of automation!

All in all, despite wonky sizes, and not utterly perfect lines on the sewing machine (thanks to continuing to learn to get the foot pedal pressure right) The end result is still good. Perfectly functional for my slobby spring trousers.

Now, if only I’d noticed the fact the bobbin threat for the sewing machine was blue, not black, and that I could see it against the trousers... Oh well.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

While I was lost in the woods and maybe somewhere I shouldn’t have been I saw two chocolate brown deer with round puffy fluffball tails hopping around, and these little critters. Assumed they were laying their eggs in this mud patch, but it was very interesting to watch. Basically attacking the ground with their bums!

[pinsplantsandpikes]

Misadventures and Misdirection

Heading lakeward again and there have been some beautiful little heads of grape hyacinth popping out to meet me. I am already kicking myself for forgetting my gloves as the nettles are growing gloriously large and ripe for picking. Ahh well, there will be plenty more chances to try my hand at nettles.

I have encountered a massive bush with lovely fluffy leaves and white bell shaped flowers. I have walked past it before but now stopped to properly look. The app guesses mint family, lemon balm in particular but I am not sure. There is no distinctive smell. I will try ripping off a leaf on my way back and have a sniff.

I have made my way back through the mud and nettles to the stitchwort, even more profliferous than before, flowers everywhere in that small patch of vibrant green. I can't help but smile at their progress... and cringe at their taste. The gorse flowers were pretty grim too despite the Facebook post I saw this morning of someone having gorse, ramsoms, nettles and morels for dinner. The outer petals were hairy and course hair at that, and overall it was just bitter.

The primroses have been out in force to ridiculous proportions. I think of them as ornamental garden flowers, not hardy wild plants, but they are proving me wrong en masse. Massive bushes of them in heathland amongst broom and grass, and large scatterings amidst brambles.

While looking for a bridge across the river to reach an interesting tree I have long since passed I have come across what I thought was more violets but turned out to be some dainty periwinkles.

Prolific dainty periwinkles. Their family patch is quite broad despite my having seen no others thus far.

And the alkanet are also back. They have been everywhere but this bunch all have flowers again and are quite brilliantly blue. Beautiful.

I have now climbed through brambles, branches, nettles and ivy. Walked perhaps 30 minutes the wrong direction all to find a sign saying Angling Club Members Only on the land I assume leads up to the bridge I wish to cross. Ugh! The bane of land ownership! I only want to get closer to a tree to look at it!

But in my desperate wanderings I have found something wonderful. Something I always wish to see, though I am sad to find it beside a road where it cannot help me. Dead nettle!

Following the road and feeling the pollution fill my lungs for a good half a mile or so I finally find access back into woodland that isn’t explicitly off-limits so plunge in. There is no obvious path but all the more chance then to find something exciting off the beaten track.

So far it is holly, nettles and more Lords and bloody Ladies. I am getting sick of that plant.

I have come across a ground height barbed wire. I have no idea which side I am supposed to be and therefore now very nervous. There is a 50% chance I am already trespassing and I should cross to get off.

Or 50% chance I would then be entering somewhere I shouldn't. Aahhhhh! I chose to cross in favour of the clearer space on the other side and hope I can find a way out. 

To cut a long story short I did not. I found more fences, more barbed wire, no paths and generally more and more vibes of shouldn't-be-here. I frantically phoned my dad for lack of any better idea of what to do. He was of little comfort and no helpful suggestions, no reassurance that I would not be in trouble.

Eventually following the fences and houses lead me to someone who was actually outside despite the lockdown that I could then ask for help. He directed me to a nearby car park with a break in the fencing and I thanked him profusely (despite his crude and rather ominous comments about me being still lost after dark and something about food - I dread to contemplate).

I escaped, and as I started to walk the 20 of so minutes back home, a familiar car drove past, my dad's girlfriend and him had come back from shopping via my location to rescue me! How sweet.

Anyway, all’s well that ends well. It was an adventure if nothing else.

P.S. I subsequently didn’t get to investigate the potential lemon balm.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

A Stitch(wort) In Time Saves Nothing If You Don't Pick It (16/03/20)

(Tumblr decided to delete my draft so I ragequit this for two days)

The sky is bright, empty, and blue. The air is briskly cold but clean. I have so far seen a lot of Lords And Ladies, a lot of Lords And Ladies, incessant amounts of Lords And Ladies.

I am exploring lakeside today instead of in the heathland. I am determined to find some Ramsoms like the other foragers I follow have. The general advice has been waterside woodland, as old as possible.

With the recent rain there is a lot more waterside than before! But the age is potentially a problem, so we shall see what we can see and live in hope.

On the suburban end of my walk, leading up to the lakes, there has been thriving greenery starting to shrug off the grey of winter. A rife of blue flowers started to emerge as I approached the gate, leaves spotted with white, quite pretty. Alkanet or Bugloss, and in their abundance, absolutely beautiful and rather like Forget Me Not flowers for the individual heads. I should have recognised them instantly - rather than letting the app confuse me into hoping they were Comfrey - for they look exactly as they do in Elder Scrolls IV Oblivion, the game designers did a wonderful job on the plants.

Picking my way through the swampy ground I eventually made it to the path which followed a seemingly circular route, I chose to go left to start with. I passed some grumpy swans and a fisherman mired in mud to practice his craft. I don't envy the conditions but give him props for going to such lengths. Takes guts to be that close to swans, evil bastards that they are.

Continuing onward, I see some dogwalkers, numerous water based plants which look like Irises, more bloody Lords And Ladies, and wonder of wonders I find St John’s Wort--!

Not.

Of course I didn’t find anything so forageable as that. It was Shrubby St John’s Wort, otherwise known as Sweet Amber... uses, none. Cute little plant though.

Next up is Wood Avens, which might actually be useful at last! Ish. After some looking, none of its uses are really supported by science. Ugh.

All I want is to learn to find usable, useful, edible plants. It is not really so much to ask.

The next step in my journey was to decide whether or not to try and cross a flooded area of stepping stones, or stepping logs rather. The water ran over them and there was no indication how much they would sink. I would hardly drown if I slipped. I would get at worst a nasty shock, sore bum and a bit soggy. But on principle it was the risk vs reward debate. I vaguely knew my options for turning back, the right turn I hadn't yet taken that would eventually lead full circle to my origin point.

Or the waterlogged path, of which I knew nothing.

So, naturally I took to the logs, got one wet sock but otherwise survived the scramble intact. It was an adventure!

The view was spectacular, a river on one side after a steep drop, and the lake I’d been circling on the other, waterfowl taking off from the river and flying over my head. I carried along the path, excitedly looking at my feet for potential Ramsoms or other plants, breathing deeply, hoping to smell the strong stench of garlic. But nothing, just damp soil, water, and the fresh air.

It was along this path I ditched LeafSnap as my identification app. My final straw was it umming and ahhing about hogweed and whether or not it was really a parsnip. With lesser hogweed that’s not a dangerous confusion, even if it’s drastically wrong. With Giant Hogweed that is potentially lethal, given the plant’s infamous toxicity (seriously, go investigate that terrifying beast). So, instead I moved to iNaturalist, which so far has worked much better, keeping identification assumptions much more closely related, and peer-reviewed by real people when unsure. Happily trotting along I found more Lords And Ladies, brambles everywhere, grasses, dock, more of my good friend Poor Man’s Mustard, and what looked like Forget Me Nots!

Or more specifically, Wood Forget Me Nots. Gardener variety Forget Me Nots are my favourite flower, but this variation might actually leap to the top. The leaves were so fuzzy and soft. There were fewer flowers than the plant I know, but that may be the time of year as much as anything. The petals were a far richer blue, matching the Alkanet.

At this point my battery dropped below 50% so I started winding my way towards home, deliberately without turning back. I followed the muddied ground towards a swampy plain full of rushes or similar. Amongst the tall reeds there were some with what looks like bugs munching on them, fluffy little curls. When I got closer I saw that they were actually part of the Willows as iNaturalist identified them.

That’s just the family of plants, it wasn’t confident enough to narrow it down to the specific, but I’m happy with that much for something I don’t intend to touch or eat. It’s so cute though!

After the Willows I had a decision to make, with my battery running low enough it might not make it home. Either I went the wiggly way through the houses, or a straight line through some awkwardly overgrown wilderness. Just as I was weighing up these options something caught my eye. Bright greenery in a nest of dead leaves.

And in amongst the emerald sea in there were tiny white drops. Bright tiny blooms of delicately deliberate petals.

This was Stitchwort.

And it was so utterly beautiful. I’d seen flowers like that before but I have no recollection of where. They were exactly the kind of thing I wanted to see. Useful, edible, I even was developing a stitch after 80 or so minutes on the hoof at that point! But did I pick any?

No.

Because I’m an idiot who didn’t think of that till I’d already gotten halfway home, back through the undergrowth scritch scratch scritch scratch and back through the mud squelch squirtch squelch squirtch. It was only at I was opening the gate to return to the main road that I kicked myself for not getting down on my hands and knees to pick some of the Stitchwort, that I could have used it on a practical basis, tested its power. But no, my silly modern brain wanted to go home and have a banana to restock on potassium. Defying the whole premise of trying to reawaken older knowledge and customs.

But still. I know where they are. I’m pretty sure I could find my way back to that small cluster under that tree. They work well in salad apparently. Maybe I’ll do that for myself, a quarantine picnic, lockdown lunch of flowers and leaves.

Of course, yes, that’s the elephant in the room. I got home around 5pm.

Just in time to see the BBC tell me the country was on lockdown.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

23 and Me (No, not the DNA test)

I am a 17th century, English Civil War re-enactor. While I was born into such and in some manner had no say, it has left me, or been a result of an interest in the period. None of my three siblings has joined or remained in the hobby, so it must just be an aspect of my own personal being to find the historical period fascinating.

Britain in the civil wars was a tumultuous time of political, social, and technological upheaval. Religions clashed and roiled, turning and twisting on themselves, trying to fit the world around them. Puritanical prigs who despised fun or pleasure, and hedonistic bigwig Royalists who didn’t care for the voices of those below or beside themselves.

So when I found a Good Omens fanfiction piece where the angel and demon were in that period, I was ecstatic. And even better, they were presenting as female at the time, which led to further shenanigans.

It was in this way it struck me. I had never encountered fanfiction, or really any fiction much at all, set in this period, not that was of interest to me anyway. Much hard history exists, and debates upon debates of exact timings of events, revelations and peoples’ actions. But fiction, for fun, that just happens to be in that era? No.

So I investigated, as my brain is wont to do. And as of the day I searched, earlier this week, there was a grand total of 23 items tagged “English Civil War” on the entirety of the ArchiveOfOurOwn engine, which is heading steadily toward 6million entries as of July 2019. 

I acknowledge my period is quite insular, being as it shares a casual name with an event far more popular in America. I know that as wars go the average Brit knows almost nothing of it by comparison - people ask me in the street, I bloody know by now how ignorant a lot of people are. I know that the 17th century is often passed over in favour of the 16th with Elizabeth, or the 19th with Victoria.

But my period is important. It shows the true value of standing up for the rights of the people. Its reverberations affect the way our country operates to this day. The monarch has not stepped foot in Parliament for hundreds of years because of the actions I honour for fun. But I don’t take them lightly. I know and memorialise those who lost their lives. I learn every event just how dangerous our weapons are, but also how unfatal their impact itself is. To die by a musket bullet is the lucky fate, for it was the infections that had the real death toll. I know this as a musketeer, but also as a herbalist’s apprentice. I feel it on both sides when I talk to the punters about it, their shock, their surprise, their horror and disgust for the humanity lost in all of this.

That is why my era matters. Before the world wars it was the largest loss of live Britain had seen in warfare. The percentage of the population was massive. 

But where were the women in all this? Healers, wives, camp followers. I have read articles that suggest many Mulan-ed themselves to follow their husbands, sons or brothers, to keep them safe. I am not a historian, I don’t know how true any of that is. I am however a queer writer who sees an opportunity, an angle, an unexplored fish pond in which to throw a line.

I have found no fiction I would want to intake from the era, because it’s not something I can get behind. It’s all selfish rich people with political angles, or social situations I don’t believe in, like the devoted wife, or a woman who marries despite herself.

To put it simply: I want the ECW lesbians. Where are the affairs while the master of the house is away? Where are the forbidden romances between opposing sides - but with the added juiciness of not opposing sexes?

The Girl King explores Queen Kristina, who knew how to handle a musket, and had practice sessions with her lover, her Queen’s Bed Companion. The Favourite also explores a noble woman fond of shooting, but also fond of the Queen’s company. These are not quite comparable, but they are all I know to put as inspiration. I am very fond of these films, for while they are not my period exactly, they are close, they share much in fashion, politics, religion, weaponry, but attitudes... perhaps not? Who knows.

I have come to the conclusion I will have to write to appease myself. The questions being:

Which side(s)?

What rank(s)?

What religion(s)?

What county(ies)?

When exactly in the wars?

During the interregnum?

Will the characters truly believe their side is right, or do they do it for self-preservation?

Are they turncoats?

Are they married? Do they have beards?

Are they “out” or at least open with themselves?

There are so many questions to ponder with this period, so many layers to explore, I am quite excited. I could name some after my reenactment friends/enemies (by enemies I mean Royalists, not people who I actually dislike). I was given an authentic name for exactly this reason, all my siblings were, but there will be some others who have good old authenti-names.

I know I want a noble woman with dark curled hair, and a midblue dress...

[pinsplantsandpikes]

Thoughts 13/03/20

My playlist created a sublime synchronicity with my surroundings. A aeroplane flew overhead, rumbling through my earbuds, and The Shores of Normandy came on. The sombre vocals accompanied by this isolating scenery were truly haunting.

I love when music, emotion, and environment line up. It is a spiritual experience, much the same as singing with a group of people. Except when alone, it’s more like singing with the universe.

And sometimes, the universe sings back. On the same exact walk as the solemn war music instance, I also found a rock. On the face of it you may think, a rock, why is that important? It’s not. But I appreciated that rock. I really liked it. It had attitude, character. Enough personality for me to spot it amongst the decaying tree debris and go over for a closer look.

It's like a wizards staff top or something, I felt drawn to it. But unlike some witchy people, I didn't remove it from its place to take it home, I would much rather other people got to see it and appreciate it too.

The proverbic irony of picking a flower you loved and thereby condemning it to death has always stuck with me, so I do my best to leave things I appreciate exactly as they were.

There hasn't really been much to report plants-wise today. Winter still clings on enough to not let me find anything off the basic list of daffodils, hyacinths, and eternal gorse flowers.

I did find a mushroom though, three or so of the same, in a little space protected by the gorse and dead ferns around them.

Quite aesthetic if I do say so myself.

The picked up towards the end on stuff to learn. There were naked trees with new shoots. Fluffy, white shoots! And the one sprig of leaf I found was tiny and pointed. The identification app was falling over itself with differing options, none of which seem to match. After some time and many different example photos, I am left to conclude it was buckthorn of some kind.

And to conclude my rambling train with little connective tissue that was today’s walk, a dog just ran all the way from its owners at one end of the bridleway to jump on me. Did no damage, just a thorough licking, but the owners were so embarrassed!

[pinsplantsandpikes]

Banquet of the Bandes day 2, the feast (07/03/20)

Slight hangover, a lot more from lack of sleep and overheating than actual alcohol. Certainly could have done with more food given Gr's homebrewed meads repeatedly ending up in my hand.

We are slowly lounging the day away until evening. I have rebaked my Marlborough pies ready for the meal. Spoons still might be required thanks to the sherry slowing the setting process.

Cakes and sugar sticks and various snacks have piled up, banter over penises, diagnoses, and random history, and surprisingly little alcohol.

Les Mis brought a tear to many eyes when we watched it all together, and there was an attempt at a few games - all aborted in favour of the rugby lot screaming their successes or frustrations. Rh was not amused in the slightest when Wales lost - got the piss ripped out of him more than a little.

At 6.30pm the feast began with depressingly little fanfare. No awards or medals, no prizes or special mentions. Only a memorial toast to absent friends from other regiments we had lost in recent months.

There was good food, but no dancing. We had massively overcatered and overdrank, and with no movement to work it off mant had succumbed to bed by 8pm and the majority by 10pm. Very much unlike us midnight mob.

I gave up when the singing grew dull and uninspired, defeated by trying to down my rather undiluted mead-gin in one go - never do that.

For a weekend I had looked forward to so much it was a complete let down. I travelled that far to dance in a beautiful location with friends. I didn't get to see one of my friends thanks to a work clash, never saw the beauty of the local area since no one wanted to walk with me, and the ceilidh didn't happen.

All in all, I can't actually decide if it was worth it. Though I did get some tips on fixing my chemise, so maybe the Pins part of this will at least benefit.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

Banquet of the Bandes (06/03/20)

Today’s the day! At last it has finally come, the Norfolkes’ yearly banquet. It’s been delayed from November, so five months of waiting and we’re finally on our way. My gown is in a bag, along with Marlborough Pies, mead and gin. I am ready to party up in Derbyshire!

...

The journey took four or so hours and started an hour later than intended. My friend G was late, her alarms not having gone off, but we forgive her. She is normally reliable.

Arriving, we came to a tall building with irresponsibly steep stairs, and the rear end of my commanding officer.

The obligatory regimental squeal upon seeing each other, glomps galore for the fitter members, slaps on the back and hugs abounded.

After unpacking into a room and establishing dormmates amongst ourselves, and a trip to the pub for supper. Then out comes the booze. Mead specifically in my case.

Shenanigans continued throughout the night, including far too much drinking for R and O, leading to some encounters with the hostel's toilet bowls, and an airy confusion for O who lost track of where and when she was.

A bit after midnight I gave up on the hardcore drunkards and went to read a book before bed.