Tadpoles and damselfly larvae - click to view larger.     The pond seems to have become home to damselfly larvae!  I was doing a bit of pond dipping this afternoon, to see how the taddies are coming along and in the bowl were some fragile, insect-like critters which seem to have three tails.  Later, I did a quick Google search to find out what they might be, and quickly found photos of them.  I am genuinely surprised to find damselflies in a pond that's not even one year old yet - a pond which needs more plants to lift oxygen levels as algae is having a field day right now.  I wonder when the damselfly eggs were lain?  I love damselflies and dragonflies!  So I'm grinning like a big kid right now.   I once saw a HUGE emerald green dragonfly flying down Village Road, level with Mariner's Point in West Kirby.  I heard it before I saw it - a loud, droning buzz which caused me to look behind me in case it was a hornet heading my way.  Instead it was a magnificent,

Last summer, I made a frog pond in our garden.  The very short video above shows the tadpoles which are currently swimming around, obviously enjoying the warmth which the spring sunshine is bringing to the shallows where they like to congregate.  They're quite fascinating to watch.  As soon as I get home from my day-job, I put the kettle on, let the dogs into the garden then visit my pond to see how the taddies are growing.  Right now they're making short work of a slug which drowned itself.  Ok, so that is a bit gross - but that's nature for you, red in fang and claw.... Today I added another doll to my collection, one I've wanted for absolutely ages:  Daisy, which was designed by Mary Quant.  As a child I had Daisy and a friend of hers as paperdolls ; goodness knows how many other paperdolls I had, hundreds at least.  Anyway, today I won an eBay auction for a Daisy, so I'll be looking forward to receiving that through the mail and adding her to my collectio

What do you think of the new-look website?  The aim was to simplify the layout, reducing three columns to two so there was less visual clutter.  There's also a new colour scheme to consider; apparently some people using an old monitor found the previous one a little difficult to read. The temporary hiatus which Riverside Writers' meetings have undergone will end soon, as West Kirby Library have nearly finished repairing the interior after bits of the ceiling fell off.  The next meeting of Riverside Writers will take place on the 27th of this month.  Tim phoned to pass on the news about the library being ready to re-open, so my next little job is to zap an email round to everyone on the group's mailing list. Speaking of mailing lists, did you know I have a free emailing list with Yahoo Groups?  To sign up, use the clickable box in the side column.  Membership brings a number of privileges, such as having book release dates or events dates sent straight to your usua

City Stories, FREE ebook anthology   Contributors : Tim Hulme William R Jones Caroline Hubbard Andy Siddle Jason Barney Jack Horne Adele Cosgrove-Bray   Here's a preview of the front cover for the forthcoming City Stories ebook anthology, which is currently being proofread with help from Andy Siddle and Tim Hulme.  The photo on the cover depicts part of the Albert Dock in Liverpool, and was taken by my husband Richard, (who's currently trying to mend a broken stand for one of my Tangkou dolls).   Frog pond with pennywort, water soldiers, fairy moss and shy goldfish.   Who'd have guessed that fish have personalities?  To prevent the frog pond from becoming home to a legion of blood-sucking mosquitoes, my brother Eric suggested adding a few goldfish.  Three have been making themselves at home beneath the gradually-spreading canopy of pennywort and fairy moss.  They seem to like snoozing under the water soldiers, and they're particul

Shabby Chic - Toad Style!   One of our compost bins has been selected as a desirable residence by a toad.  Here he is, perched on top of an egg shell amidst a colourful squelch of veg and fruit peelings.  Toady seems entirely content, and has shown a distinct disinterest in moving on despite the lower edge of the compost bin having been propped up on an old brick so Toady can come and go easily.  Each time Richard or I go to the compost bin, we first have to check to make sure Toady has ambled off to one side to avoid being buried by a small avalanche of soggy teabags and kitchen peelings.   Location, location, location...  It's a handy spot for an amphibian.  The decomposing compost will help keep Toady warm in winter, and the thick recycled rubber walls of the bin itself will protect Toady from the worst of the winter storms.  The neighbours are edible.  And come spring, when Toady's feeling especially sociable, there's a lovely pond a small crawly-walk away wh

Emily and Poppi by the pond. I received a lovely email from someone who had noticed I'd deleted my old LiveJournal blog.  He had enjoyed the philosophical debates which had unfolded there, and was disappointed that the blog was no more.  I hadn't updated my old LJ blog since opening this Blogger site so I was a little surprised at this, but we all like to be missed, hmm? I'd like to reply properly to this person, but I accidentally deleted the email.  I've not blogged much on philosophical topics for some time, even though philosophy is a dominant part of my life.  Maybe I should?  Meanwhile, back at Maison Cosgrove-Bray, I've been busy creating a garden pond.  Earlier this year we were invaded by a huge number of baby frogs.  Apparently frogs don't reach maturity until they're five years old, and until their first mature spring season they don't spend much time in ponds.  However, we also have a small population of older frogs and t

I've gone frog mad.   I've now got a bee in my bonnet about making a proper frog pond, as our garden has been invaded by millions of baby frogs.   I tried making a small one yesterday only the DIY plastic liner leaks.   Who'd have guessed that, hmm?   I didn't see any holes in it, so  either I missed the holes or I picked porous plastic.   Oh well, as spontaneous bright ideas go, the principle worked ok even if it failed in practise.   No matter - I've now bought a proper liner and underlay off eBay for about £10, and I've been reading up online about how to build a frog pond properly.   I had visions of having to dig half way to the Earth's core, but apparently 25cms is perfect for the deepest point and gently sloping sides all round are supposed to be best as tadpoles like swimming about in warm shallows. The liner will be longer than the plastic I've used, but that's ok as I can easily lift everything out of the way and re-dig the pond a lit

One of the tiny frogs currently in our garden.  An army of tiny frogs has invaded our garden.  The photo above shows just one of them, sitting on our block-paved drive at the side of our house, which gives a good idea of just how small they truly are.  They're so cute!  We have to really watch where we're putting our feet, there're so many of them.  It's as well that we have no chickens at the moment, as the eggs would be so full of reassembled frog that the eggs would start hopping. Our roses have been fabulous this year.  Not so our raspberries, which tasted vile and quickly went past their best.  My attempt at growing garlic ended in a shrivelled disaster, and I suspect that the sun has been too fierce for the shoots to thrive.  The rosemary cuttings have taken well to their new spot in the far border, however, and the broom looks ok too.  The big box of wild flower seeds that I sprinkled round the borders has produced various poppies and a smattering of whit

An avenue of apple trees outside Gilroy Allotments.   Sign encouraging people to freely enjoy future apple harvests!   Gilroy Allotment site, a thriving community project.   Gilroy Nature Park, a few short steps from the allotments.   Click on the pictures to view them larger.      A new avenue of apple trees lines the narrow public footpath which leads from Gilroy Road in West Kirby, Wirral, and passes the Gilroy Road Community Allotments site and the entrance to Gilroy Nature Park.  The young trees are of mixed varieties, supported by stout wooden posts, and have been planted on both sides of the path.   There is a large sign, shaped like apple leaves, which declares:  "Incredible Edible!  When ripe feel free to pick some fruit!"  Another 'leaf' on the sign reads:  "The apple avenue is an invitation to consider where our food comes from and how we can reduce our food miles, encourage locally grown and and support independe

Emily & Poppi playing King of the Castle Cushion.     This is the last day of my week's annual leave so I'll be making the most of the sunshine as soon as I've typed this, and will get some more gardening done.  I've cleared two borders of weeds and planted three small rosemary shrubs and a broom which I'd grown from cuttings.  There's plenty more work to be done, of course, but that's the nature of all gardens.   This week I've written the first draft of The Grumpets , which could be described as a small book for small children of all ages.  This is the first childrens' story I've ever written.  I never intended to write for children, but then I had this crazy idea about little creatures called Grumpets...  I have no idea how children or adults will react to it; I've not even shared it at Riverside Writers yet.  The idea had been tacked to the wall next to my PC for at least six months, so this week I decided to take a brea

Blackbird hunting for worms     This afternoon I tackled the half-moon shaped flowerbed located beside the entrance to the grove.  It was badly overgrown, so the first job was to remove the dry remnants of assorted wildflowers and the rapidly-growing spring weeds.  Before any ardent conservationist throws a wobbly, I'll point out that all the wildfowers came from commercial packets of seeds, and last year's seeds have already either done their own thing or are sitting in a shallow dish on the kitchen window sill.   Meawhile, nearby, Richard was wrestling with the sawn-down stump of a Robinia pseudoacacia, a lovely tree whose oval leaves turn an attractive golden colour in autumn.  Unfortunately it also has thorns the size of rhino horns, and we were fed up of being lacerated each time we mowed the lawn.  We had tried pruning it back hard for several years with mixed success and much spillage of blood. Verdict:  a gorgeous tree, in the wrong place.    So I resc

Emily and Poppi    Here're our two Jack Russell Terriers, once again snuggling on their favourite doggy cushion.  It used to be Richard's cushion but they had other ideas.  It's a shame about the red-eye, though I managed to tweak it and reduce it to ochre-eye.  Is it an improvement?  I'll let you decide.   Last weekend saw us in the garden, raking together autumn leaves and making a bonfire from a heap of pruned branches.  The dogs were safely indoors, of course.  The leaves were quite damp from all this rain we've had, so consequently the fire was very smoky.  But it's one of those gardening jobs which simply needs doing.    Smoky autumn bonfire   Just behind the fire you can see our two conical compost bins, which were made from recycled rubber.  They have no base, so to extract good compost  you simply slide a garden fork under them and lift them off.   They're suprisingly light to move around, yet the compost inside stops them from

I enjoyed this video, which shows what one man has done with the gardening space available to him.  It demonstrates how even small and seemingly uninteresting spaces can be transformed into something lovely.  The idea reminds me of the late Geoff Hamilton's BBC series, Paradise Gardens , in which he promoted a similar idea.  The series is a pleasure to watch for its own sake; it has a dreamy, tranquil quality as well as being grounded in practicality. A quick Google search for "gardening in small spaces" offered me 82,800,000 results.  Clearly there're plenty of ideas out there, such as using tubs, drain pipes, old tires, vertical gardens, home-made greenhouses, wooden palette boards and even a derelict car to house both ornamental and food plants. Our garden is a fairly decent size.  I keep talking about putting in a pond...and maybe a duck or two could then be added to the menagerie which hasn't been so small in a long time.  Having now got only one dog, on

Mad dog & English hen stay out of the mid-day sun. Standing around like a headless chicken. Summer has arrived.  How long it lasts, this being Britain, is another matter but for now the sun is blazing and the sky is pretending to be Mediterranean.  A mere two weeks ago I was glad of my winter coat as hail stones and biting winds howled down the mouth of the River Dee.  Today all the house windows and the French doors are thrown open and, as can be seen from the two photos above, the menagerie has been hiding from the heat of the day.  And these are just the pets I could find.  The other hens had vanished beneath shady shrubs, and our cat Jasper is nowhere to be seen.  Fear not, she'll return at 5.55pm sharp in time for food at 6pm.  She always does. Jasper is once again without a collar.  We no sooner buy her a new one and she contrives to lose it.  I told Richard that we might as well just tie a £5 note to a tree and save ourselves the bother of buying a new collar, placin

Emily, enjoying today's spring sunshine. Joyce, Felicity and Penelope pottering around the garden today. If you're wondering how the leather tuffet found its way onto the patio, ask the Jack Russell who has sat on it since mid-morning.  Never let it be said that Emily doesn't use initiative. Mum and Evelyn were here on Sunday, bringing some more of Mum's family history research with them, including some old photos.  I haven't had time to look at it properly yet.  Most of the loose notes concern the Caslin and Corrigan branches of the family.  There are also some letters from the Meaghers in New York State, America - the writer being Mum's second cousin who also has an interest in genealogy. This arrival synchronises neatly with my Aunt Mary's further researches into the McGowan family, which she mailed to me this week.  Much of this information is of too recent a date to share online, but Mary has done a lot of detailed research.  It will all be safely

A glorious afternoon tempted me into the front garden, hedge strimmer in hand.  Ours hadn't been pruned since mid-autumn, so it was looking straggly.  When I get a Round Tuit, I want to redesign the front garden.  There are a few camelias - my favourite white one's coming into bloom now - and a lovely white rose that I want to keep, but the shrubs and "ivy cascade" (ie. tangled mound with tentacles) can go.  As things stand, it looks like the design didn't turn out quite according to plan - which is an accurate assessment.  It was supposed to be easy-care but everything grew like crazy and took over, but not in an interesting way.  In the back garden, in the Grove, everything went wild too but that looks and feels wonderful, but then this fits the context. One of the things I plan to install is a pond, as we get quite a lot of amphibians here.  Putting a pond in the back garden would invite disaster as Ygraine loves paddling, and her favourite way of getting d

Bonfire time at Maison Cosgrove-Bray.  Going up in flames was a 1940s chest of drawers, the type which is more wood than drawer space - an ugly old thing well beyond its usefulness or re-sale value.  There was also a heap of autumn pruning - branches, bits of hedge, snapped bamboo canes, broken brush handles etc.  Oh, and two kitchen rugs which were remarkable only for their vileness. In the midground of the photo are two compost bins made from recycled rubber.  The cone-like sides lift up cleanly if a garden fork is levered beneath them; they don't have a base.  These bins have been in constant use for ten years and show absolutely no sign of wear.  Beyond the compost bins is the green-coloured chicken coup. The photo shows only half of our rear garden, which is also the side which we've done the least with so far.  The garden is now ready for a good tidy-up before winter sets in.  Brick flooring can a mixed blessing, as every tiny groovy between each brick becomes a home

Freshly harvested from our four-year old tree - and not one drop of insecticide was used.  We lost two apples to wasps but the rest are ours.  They even smell sweet! It's as well we're not relying on this small harvest to support us through the coming winter.  Richard's already ear-marked them for an apple crumble, anyway. 

In the eleven years we've lived here, we've gone through four lawn mowers.  Whatever happened to electrical goods whose life extended long after the manufacterers' guarantees expired?  These-days products seem to be made as cheaply as possible in the full knowledge that items will develop faults sooner rather than later.  Perhaps it's a deliberate method of keeping the economy turning over, in that goods are made to break down so people will keep buying more of the same.  Repairs cost nearly as much as a new product, assuming spare parts are even available.  This is one contributing factor to the planet's ever-growing rubbish tips. It's also rather annoying.  Our high-pressure waterjet patio cleaner, for example, lasted one season before the plastic handle split, meaning all pressure was lost and water was pouring over the electric wiring.  Could a new handle be bought?  Of course not.  Our fairly new bread-making machine went on fire.  Our deep-fat fryer, o

You'd think that planning a small family get-together would be easy.  Most of us don't live in the same areas and we all have busy schedules.  Some are available some days but not on others, and each person's timetable has little correspondence to anyone else's.  Consequently I'm still trying to get people to settle on a meeting date, even.  Our get-together celebrates two forthcoming birthdays - Mum's 83rd and Vikkey's 25th - and also the news that Vikkey and Peter are expecting their first child.  Just don't address me as Great-Aunt Adele.  I have no objection to being ancient, (or, more accurately, ageless), being the dyed-in-the-wool Immortalist that I am.  It's just that it doesn't seem too long ago since little Victoria was gurgling happily while daubing paints and obsessing about Roland Rat.   His name was her first words - though she said something more like 'Woland Wat', and would squeal with delight whenever his maniacal grey