The Flowers Will Come When They Are Ready

June blows in each year as an unexpected guest. In Scotland, we never quite know which version of her will arrive. Some years she comes all sunshine and dusty paths, other years she arrives wrapped in mist and drizzle, asking us to keep the fires lit a little longer.

This year she is mostly cool and wet so far but when the sun breaks through you can feel the warmth and humidity trying to tell us that it is trying to be summer.

This week last year the sink was filled with our roses and peonies, freshly picked in the mornings. This year the buds are still tightly shut, seemingly determined to ignore the fact that it is June. A brave few are just beginning to peep out and I imagine them as the leaders, venturing forth to check whether it’s finally safe to unfurl. A feeling we understand, winter coats are still hanging up in the utility, waiting to be picked up for when we head out.

The flowers will come when they are ready.

Elderflower cordial is yet to be made, the flowers just opening now in the hedgerows so evenings spent wandering down the lane, wicker basket in hand, small children excitedly exploring and filling the basket with blooms. Days seem to start and end sunny but go grey and drizzly in between.

The plants I have sown from seed and nurtured through the winter and spring are slowing down their growth. I planted them out during the few days of warmer weather we had in May, now they are grumbling and looking crossly at me, asking why I’ve taken them from the warmth and protection of the greenhouse and into the cold soil. The broad beans have only just started to flower so it will still be a few weeks before we are harvesting them, radishes and salads grown as quick crops a month ago are still just germinating and the strawberries are very green. The flowers we do have in the garden are lasting much longer into June than usual though. Lacey cow parsley still lazily wafting in the cool breeze, verbascum clementine still adorned with flowers, albeit slightly dishevelled and tangled from the rain, ox eye daisies little smiling faces showing happy acceptance of the cooler weather. The soil seems grateful for the rain. After such a dry year last year, you can almost imagine it breathing deeply, drinking in every shower with quiet relief.

The chimneys are getting swept and logs ordered in case we need the fires on. When we first came to view our cottage, almost six years ago on a cold July day (it was 11C) the fire was on but we still fell in love with it. This summer feels like one for keeping the fires burning and the candles lit. For reading with blankets over knees, baking while the rain taps against the windows, colouring pages spread across the table, knitting in the evenings and finding little pockets of quiet creativity.

Al fresco meals will have to wait, We did risk firing up the outdoor pizza oven in the rain a couple of weeks ago. Between showers we dashed in and out of the house, laughing as we carried toppings and plates. Memories were made and delicious food was eaten, which is surely all summer really asks of us.

The porridge pan is bubbling away every morning. We are having to eat warming meals, lentil bolognaise and summer vegetable and chickpea pies, which I’m secretly very happy about. Salads and frozen cakes waiting for warmer days, if they do come this year.

Lentil bolognaise

Ingredients

• 1 onion

• 3 stalks celery

• 3 carrots

• 1/2 cup mushrooms

• 4 cloves of garlic

• 1/4 cup red wine (or two tablespoons of balsamic vinegar)

• 1 tin lentils

• 1 tin chopped tomatoes

• 2 tbsp soy sauce (or tamari)

• 1 tsp mixed herbs

• 2 tbsp tomato puree

• Salt and pepper to taste

• Pasta water

Method

1. Finely chop the onion, celery, carrot. Add to a skillet with 1 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil. Cook on a medium heat for 10 minutes until everything has softened.

2. Finely chop the mushrooms and garlic and add them to the skillet and cook for a further five minutes.

3. Add all the remaining ingredients and simmer for 30 minutes (or longer).

4. If the bolognaise is a little dry, add pasta water (or just water but pasta water is best) a ladleful at a time to bring it back to the perfect sloppy consistency.

5. Serve with spaghetti or linguine.

We are only a couple of weeks away from the longest day. It always feels too soon in Scotland, as though summer is only just clearing her throat before the nights begin their slow retreat again. Perhaps the solstice isn’t midsummer after all, but the opening chapter.

Tonight, lying in bed with my book, I can hear the rain softly pattering against the glass. The roses will bloom when they are ready. The elderflowers are opening in the hedgerows. The broad beans are taking their time. There is still summer ahead of us.

So I’ll happily take this lingering spring, this June of damp earth, cosy fires, candles, green strawberries and hopeful peonies. It may not be the June I expected, but perhaps it is exactly the June we needed.

Thank you for being here. I wrote up the recipe for this lentil bolognaise from a request on my notes. If there are any of my recipes you would like writing up from photos I have shared on my notes, please just ask and I will happily write them up and make sure they are included in my posts.

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