Herbal cordials

I could not say goodbye to the herbs without first harvesting the fresh purple flower of the lavender and the fresh soft tips of the rosemary. I needed to use as much of the reliable herb bushes before I took the roots and tough stems to the local refuse and recycling plant where they will be turned into compost.

I decided to make herbal cordials for healthy and refreshing drinks in summer. Historically, cordials originated in Europe where the art of distilling was refined during the 15^th and 16^th centuries. Most recipes for cordials contain alcohol but the nonalcoholic, syrupy drinks are also known as cordials, though mostly in the United Kingdom and associated countries.

Most of these were believed to be beneficial to one’s health, especially for the heart (cor in Latin, hence cor-dial).

I made a lavender cordial as well as a rosemary cordial. Perhaps the properties of lavender will infuse the syrup to stimulate circulation, clear one’s thinking and reduce worries. Sounds like the perfect drink on a sunny day, safely in one’s garden away from the Covid madness.

Rosemary can infuse the syrup with its properties of improving memory performance and quality, as well as boosting alertness, intelligence, and focus. Then I shall remember to forget about the pandemic and focus on planting the new vegetables and herbs for summer.

Removing the old herb bushes forced me to revisit the uses of these herbs in the garden. I undertook to use as much as possible and lose little. Reading of all the health benefits of the different herbs in the Towerwater garden, made me realise that I needed to make better use of the healthy abundance on our doorstep.

Cleaning the herb garden forced me to rethink the way I use the herbs. It helped me plan the new layout of the gardens with far greater insight into the uses and benefits of these life-sustaining gems of nature.

Fragrant faggots for food and fires

The herb bed dedicated to lavender, rosemary, and scented geraniums, had become overgrown. I decided to clear the bed and make it available for the planting of a new selection of herbs and salad greens. The replanting of the herb beds will also incorporate the new rosemary, lavender and lemon verbena plants which have been produced from cuttings taken earlier on in the season.

A herb faggot (bouquet garni)

The decision to take out the herb bushes was not an easy one. The large bushes were reliable suppliers of lavender flowers, rosemary sprigs and lemon verbena leaves. Before I had the bushes removed, I did a quick research on uses for lavender, rosemary, and lemon verbena twigs.

The overgrown herb garden

Historically, nothing in and around a house was ever wasted. All small branches and twigs were bundled and tied together to form faggots.

Herb faggots for making fire

Interestingly enough, when I researched the binding of faggots, I came across the website of the MOT, a DIY museum of old hand-tools and techniques which are powered by man, wind, or water. The DIY Museum is located near Brussels. It has a complete section dedicated to the binding of faggots. The sentence, “If you want to use a wood fired baker’s oven, or you know somebody who wants to do so, carefully keep the branches when clipping, pruning or clearing the garden”, immediately caught my attention. I needed to know everything about the use of faggots.

From the information on the website, it was clear that binding faggots was an important part of recycling twigs into faggots for their use as fuel in wood fired ovens. Thinking of all the prunings that we generate each year, made me realise how valuable these faggots could be for future use.

The website has measurements and practical guidance for making the faggots. “You make bunches with a circumference of about 90 cm and a length of about 80 cm that you press together well. Make sure to tighten well, the branches will shrink during drying and the binding will come loose.”

Side view of the Woodman's Grip and an example of a Faggot Press

There are also dedicated tools for binding faggots. There is a woodman’s grip to tighten branches as well as a faggot press and binding jig. There is even a plan for a binding jig that you can build yourself.

I am excited by this newfound information. I decided to cut up the large herb bushes and with the help of Fungai, we bound them into fragrant faggots to use as an aromatic fuel for fires.

I have discovered that the historical way of doing things was more eco-friendly than we are today.

In “Mrs Beeton’s Dictionary of Everyday Cookery”, published in 1865, she writes the following about the use of faggots, “Brick ovens are generally considered the best adapted for baking bread: these should be heated with wood faggots, and then swept and mopped out, to cleanse them for the reception of the bread.”

Clearly, binding faggots was an integral part of farm work. Making faggots produced a constant source of fuel for bread ovens.

In my further research, I came across the reference for herb faggots by Mrs Beeton. I fetched my own copy of “Mrs Beeton’s book of Household management” in the Towerwater library. I was hoping to find more detail of what goes into a faggot of herbs. From the 23 references to faggots in her book, the reference is either a faggot of herbs, a faggot of savoury herbs and a faggot of sweet herbs, depending on the dish. Clearly Mrs Beeton trusted that her audience knew their herbs.

In her Bechamel sauce, she calls for 1 small bunch of parsley, ½ a bay-leaf and one small faggot of savoury herbs. I will have to do some more research on Mrs Beeton’s cooking because when I make a bouquet garni (faggot of herbs), I normally include parsley and bay leaves.  

The cleaned herb garden ready for fresh planting 

Cleaning the herb beds after winter has taught me so much more about the functions of a herb garden and the optimal use of fresh herbs and pruned bushes. From a faggot of herbs for making lamb shanks to faggots of herbs for cooking fires, the herb bushes might be gone but they will not be forgotten. Their fragrance will linger on in future meals and fires.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary the word faggot means:

a. “A bundle of sticks, twigs, or brushwood tied together for use as fuel.”

b. “A bundle or bunch of reeds, herbs, flowers, etc.; esp. a small bunch of herbs for seasoning a dish. More generally: a bundle of anything bound or clustered together.”

 

Sources:  

Het MOT https://www.mot.be/en/ (The drawings of the Woodmen's grip and faggot press are also from this website)

Mrs Beeton’s book of Household management, published 1861

Mrs Beeton’s Dictionary of Everyday Cookery, published 1865

The Oxford English Dictionary - https://www.oed.com/viewdictionaryentry/Entry/67623

Lofty ambitions

Our oversees travel plans had to be postponed for a second year running. The routine of spending the week in Cape Town and the weekend at Towerwater has been turned on its head. With me working from home three days a week, we can spend five days at Towerwater and two days at Elmwood.

Trips to Cape Town serve as an opportunity to buy items that are not readily available in Bonnievale and surrounds. Spending more time at Towerwater also brought home the reality that we have too many things cluttering up the loft space.

The death of so many people in our circle from Covid, made me realise that life is unpredictable and the time that one has available needs to be used to sort out as many projects as possible.

For me, one of those projects is reducing the items stored on the solder (loft). Over the years, what used to be a painter’s studio and music room, has become a storage space for unused furniture, carpets, prints, books, crockery, cutlery, bedding, research maps and more.

On one of my trips to the local recycling plants, I discovered to my horror that somebody had dumped several boxes of books in the skip for paper recycling. Some boxes had burst open on impact. The books were in good condition. Clearly from somebody’s library now no longer appreciated and valued. Perhaps it was from a deceased estate, or perhaps more people are busy decluttering their lives and living spaces.

I contemplated climbing into the skip and rescuing the books. I love books, but that day I was strong enough to turn my back on the temptation. Most of the books in the boxes and on the bookshelves in the loft, are already rescued books that now needs to be put up for adoption.

I bravely ventured up the soldertrap (loft stair) and decided to start with the surplus bedding. I made piles of the bedding that we haven’t used in a long time. I could give the bedding to people that needed it and that could use it instead of it lying on the loft tempting the fish moths.

After the bedding was successfully distributed to grateful recipients, I decided to move on to the books. I contemplated not opening the boxes and just loading them onto the bakkie and taking them to be recycled in the way I saw it done at the local recycling plant. I discovered that only a very brave version of me would be able to do that and he was not with me in the loft on that day.

I opened the first box. It was like seeing friends I have not seen for a long time. The third book that I took out of the box was “Music for chameleons” (a collection of short stories and conversational portraits) by Truman Capote. The changing light and the chill in the air alerted me to the late afternoon that would soon turn into evening. I looked up and at my feet was the open box of books half-forgotten while I became engrossed in reading one of the “Conversational Portraits” with the title “A Beautiful Child”, in which Capote recalls an encounter with Marilyn Monroe.

Truman Capote dancing with Marilyn Monroe in 1955 - Bettmann Archive

I realised at this rate I will read more than I will recycle. My lofty ambitions to clear the loft will probably take longer than planned. For now, clearing the loft is like traveling through our Towerwater history. With linen telling the story of the different stages of the restoration of Towerwater. I also had to say goodbye to some linen inherited from my mom, but I realised she would have preferred for it to be used and enjoyed.

Memories of loved ones are not in the material things they leave behind. By letting go of it I did not let go of the memories in my heart and it somehow made me feel lighter.

I replaced my flight to Portugal with a trip up the flight of stairs to the loft. En-route, I discovered more about myself than I expected. Perhaps the restrictions on overseas travel is not such a bad thing after all.

The reality of dreams

Thirty years ago, to the day, we took ownership of a neglected property at 25 Church Street, Bonnievale. We were young. Everything was possible if one was prepared to work hard, make sacrifices, and be prepared to compromise. We still had to discover the price one pays for dreams.

The start of a dream. Large vegetation and rubbish removed.

We came to the realization that the town did not see the house as we did. When Keith personally submitted our building plans for the house, he was told that a demolition permit was a much cheaper option. The senior representative of the local municipality advised him to save his money and take the demolition permit. He declined the generous offer.

Saving the cottage. One hole taking 120 bricks to fill.

First clean-up about to start.

Love at first sight, or a moment of madness.

We had little money, but lots of energy and great dreams. We loved the old buildings. To us, seeing the cow-dung floors, reeded ceilings, wall cupboards, brandsolder and other indicators of much older buildings, were like reading poetry. The house only needed some editing to help others see what we saw.

Clearing begins and the house breathes again.

From the word go, we never saw the present reality before us. Instead, we always saw our dream. We were determined to realise that dream. We were very purist in our approach to restoring the old buildings. We loved Cape vernacular architecture in its purist form. White walls, thatched roofs, painted woodwork and clay floors. The property in Bonnievale was begging to be restored to its former glory.

The first consignment of 16 tons of stone to rebuild missing sections of the terrace wall.

When we bought the house, we found that the configuration had been changed. Somewhere in history, the front had become the back and vice versa. It had a 1960’s stoep added with large steel framed windows. In fact, almost all the windows had been replaced with steel frame windows. Mostly, fortunately, conforming to the original openings.

Renovated cottage. This should keep it standing until restoration starts.

Basic renovations complete. Enclosing the property begins.

A celebratory moment. Enclosed and renovated.

We bought the house as is, with most of the furniture and contents of the loft included. The property had no fences. Portions of the property had been sold off only a couple of years before.  The buildings needed serious intervention. The vegetation had to be brought under control as parts of the buildings were suffocated by under- and overgrowth.

Restoration of the cottage.

The house had been standing empty for a couple of years. As it is with vernacular buildings built with sunbaked bricks, it only takes a couple of heavy winters before neglected and exposed brickwork starts melting.

Home-made. Three sets of double gates, two single gates, hundreds of pickets, thousands of screws.

We realised that we had to stabilize the buildings urgently. A two-phased approach of first, renovation and then restoration, was called for. At the first opportunity we renovated the buildings. We kept to the external colour scheme of ochre and blue for the renovation stage. Saving the white, green and thatch for the final restoration phase.

Keith did a lot of the building work himself. From stone walls, garden walls, hearths, and chimneys. He made every picket by hand as well as all the gates.

Rosarium planted. Innovative automated irrigation system using canal water installed.

It works!

We were excited by every step of the renovation and subsequent restoration. The fact that we did it over a long time with spare cash and most of our available free time, meant that the decisions we made were better informed and ultimately benefited the house and us in the end.

Restoration and garden layout and planting complete.

We still have many projects at Towerwater that need to be completed. But, we are 95% there. There will always be details that we will want to improve.

Keith and a smiley Wolfgang take a moment to enjoy country life.

Planting and nurturing trees upfront for entertaining beneath 30 years later.

Looking back over thirty years, we must admit that we enjoyed every part of the process. The heartwarming as well as the heartbreaking bits.

Sticking out our necks to realise a dream.

Today, we have Towerwater to enjoy as the reality of our dreams. Friends and family have been an important part of this journey with us. Their insights and perspectives throughout the process have added a rich fabric to our lives.

 A settled country life dictated by the seasons.

We thought we were restoring Towerwater, but we discovered that Towerwater was in fact restoring us. 

More blog posts on the restoration of Towerwater:

Rescuing Beauty 1 – The Property 

Restoring Cape Vernacular Architecture  – The Main house

Restoring Cape Vernacular Architecture – The Cottage

A Vernacular Restoration Project Published

The 2014 CAPTRUST Award for the Conservation of the Built Environment

A year in the life of an Italian tomato seed

On 27 February 2020, I received a gift of 24 different heirloom tomato seeds from a gardening friend in Florence, Italy. They were enjoying the last days of winter in the Northern Hemisphere and we were enjoying the last days of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. The seeds were cleared by the South African customs office and on that second last day of February, I collected the brown padded envelope from my post box at the bottom of Signal Hill, Cape Town.

When I saw the Firenze postal stamp, I had an idea of the contents of the envelope. Somehow, it is still exciting to receive post from overseas. Opening the envelope, I was greeted by two dozen individually labeled little plastic bags of tomato seeds. Reading the foreign sounding names of these little seeds inspired a new level of excitement.

I could not wait to see what the tomatoes would look like and researched them immediately. I recorded the different names matched with photos on a spreadsheet for reference purposes. I decided to dedicate two vegetable beds to tomatoes in the summer vegetable garden of 2020/21 at Towerwater.

Because our homemade compost tends to contain a lot of tomato seeds, I decided not to risk sowing them directly in the beds as I usually prefer. I decided to rather buy clean ‘uncontaminated’ soil in which to sow them in individual pots. I labelled each pot, carefully repeating the names on the packets of seeds. The pots containing their well-traveled seeds were nursed in Cape Town until the newly sprouted seedlings were strong enough to be planted in their designated beds at Towerwater.

The courtyard at Elmwood in Cape Town proved not to be the best place to nurse seedlings that need a lot of sun and a constant soil temperature. The germination went well and soon every seedling came up. But the progress to the vegetative stage was terribly slow. Although the seedlings were rather small, I decided to take them to Towerwater and plant them out.

I enlisted my dibber to make the holes for the planting. When I wanted to record which plant was being planted in which position in each bed, I discovered to my horror that snails had eaten all the pot labels. Keith helped me to record as many as we could decipher from the half-eaten labels. The seedlings from the pots where the labels had been destroyed, would have to be identified as much as possible using the spreadsheet that I made that included photos of the different tomatoes.

Towerwater did its name proud. Like magic the seedlings bolted more in one week than they had in four, in Cape Town. I could sigh a sigh of relief. After a slow start, and with snails destroying the labels on the pots, the seedlings which had sprouted from the seeds of Florence were going to survive.

The seedlings loved the African summer. Like seasoned travelers they were making the best of the long days and warm nights. The first sign of something completely different was the blue tinted tomatoes that appeared in the two beds.

In their orderly rows, the variety of assorted heirloom tomatoes were a pleasure to behold. One could not help but be enchanted by their various delicious colours and shapes. I am enjoying my tomato gift from Florence, almost as much as I enjoyed visiting the Uffizi Gallery there some years ago.

Like Neruda, my tomatoes make me want to write odes to the simple things in life. To sing the praises of a fruit that enchants a meal with its colour and simplicity. A slice of tomato on a slice of freshly baked bread with farm butter and a crack of salt and pepper, is a feast fit for a king.

I am rich with the generosity of a friend in Florence who gifted me more than heirloom seeds. It is a gift of the enchanted experience of flavours, textures and colours. The lifecycle of a simple seed that spans four seasons and two continents, where two gardens meet in a shared passion for the earth and her heirloom vegetables.