The Good Life - Rain

View from the shed where sheltered during the showers

There are holes in the sky where the rain gets in

But they're ever so small

That's why the rain is thin

Spike Milligan

Nearly four weeks of dry weather ended on Saturday evening as gradually but surely isolated droplets of rain began to fall through the small holes in the sky. Initially I could count the drops on the windscreen of Corinne's car, monitoring with interest the possibility of a downpour, and after about 20 minutes of it became clear we would have a decent shower or two overnight. Harry worships the rain, and waxes lyrically about the special nourishment all vegetation receives from it. He often says that the watering can is no substitute for the rain and in his experience plants would be jumping out the ground after a good spell of rain.

The first radish; a striking 1960's red against our 1960's baby blue table

Harry always recommends a steady slow pace of work in order to make it through to the end of the day. He has numerous stories, approaching the status of parables of a bygone age, from his days working with Dublin Corporation. In between planting a few rows of onions Harry broke off and told me a story of a man he used to work with. He had been tasked with the preparation of a patch of ground for a lawn and half way through the day, but not the job itself, a manager arrived on site and insisted the grass be sewn that evening. After a moments thought, this man seeing the impossibility of the demand and the lack of knowledge or his supervisor, responded with a moderate amount of Dublin sarcasm, and requested permission to mow the grass the following morning. We laughed heartily for a while before casually progressing onto the few remaining shallots, while Corinne was slaving away elsewhere in the allotment transplanting beans.

Corinne sorting through the dandelion flower heads

 

Bright full blooming dandelions during a sunny spell in the afternoon

There has been a fantastic growth of dandelions in the last three weeks and recently I have been reading about traditional Midday Dandelion Wine. I suggested to Corinne that we might try to make a batch. She seemed to be quite enthusiastic and told me her father made many bottles of what they called vin de pissenlits in France and went on to say that it tasted very nice. I was immediately sold on the idea, and when we had a break on Sunday afternoon I walked across to a neighbouring field and set about collecting as many dandelions as I could. The idea is to pick the flowers at midday or when they are fully open. After about two hours I had tired of the constant picking and bending routine, and became slighly worried by the fact my fingers were being stained black, and  returned to Corinne. For a good hour we picked through the flowers watching the little beatles make their escape from the pile of yellow flowers while removing as much of the green leaves and stalk from beneath the flower head as possible.

Upon returning home, I measured out 8 pints of flowers into a clean bucket and then poured 16 pints of boiling water over them finally covering the bucket with a clean cloth. The recipe stipulates that they be left to steep for two days and no longer. The mixture must then be strained and poured back into a pot and brought to the boil. For the quantities I am using, I must use the zest of 8 oranges and boil the mixture for ten minutes. The mixture must then be strained again through a muslin cloth into a clean bucket containing what I am currently calculating to be 6 pounds of sugar, making sure to dissolve the sugar. When cooled sufficiently, the juice of the oranges and the yeast can be added, and this mixture can be poured into a secondary fermentation vessel with a fermentation trap, and allowed to ferment completely.
 

Corinne's father has warmed me already that yeast will not be necessary as this mixture will ferment like crazy. Furthermore he recommended I should leave at least 20% free space in the demi john to deal with the highly active fermentation process. The English recipes recommend racking and bottling the wine when it becomes clear and to allow it to age six months in the bottle before tasting. Corinne's father differs on this point as well, and being French he is probably more patient with the whole process. He advises bottling the wine after a year and promises us time will improve the wine. In any event my next date with the dandelions is Tuesday evening when I must strain the mix and add the zest and sugar, and make a decision in the yeast.
 

The forecast for the week is good for the allotment because showers are forecasted for just about everyday during the week providing good prospects for the initial growth period and reported green shoots. The Irish economy may not be as fortunate as every week brings with it revelations of financial impropriety. The unimaginative politician's refrain of green shoots has now lapsed only to be replaced with the specter of projected economic growth, which it must be said would sound more convincing from an old haggard gypsy clasping a crystal ball.