Glaciers melting in the dead of night

Our heatwave has finally upped and left, leaving us with much more bearable but still warm enough temperatures in the mid to high twenties range.

In spite of all our efforts, Dove Cottage's upstairs rooms still feel as if we've left the oven door open, and we know from experience that it will take a couple of days at least for things to get back to normal. Until then, there's nothing for it but to bear those sweaty, glacier melting nights!

We were still in the thick of it on Friday before last. With temperatures set to reach 37°C, Code Red weather warnings were issued, advising people to spend the daytime hours in a cool indoor space and keep doors and windows closed to keep out the heat. As usual, not too much exertion and a regular fluid intake were also on the list for surviving the sweltering heat.

Always contrary and unwilling to face a string of days spent indoors, after breakfast we packed a picnic and drove back to Blaasveldbroek, the nature reserve we only visited on Tuesday.

Those of you who read my previous post might remember that we took a wrong turning somewhere on our way back to the car park, ending up walking along some paths we'd never walked before. It was on one of these paths, not far from a second, smaller car park, that we noticed a boardwalk leading down from the path to a platform at the edge of a pond. We could even make out a bench, but weren't able to go down and investigate as there was someone sitting on it.

Hoping for a stroke of good luck this early on this baking hot day, we parked our car under the trees in the small car park, and with some trepidation, strolled along the path leading to the boardwalk, all the while keeping our fingers firmly crossed. 

There was nobody there, how absolutely divine! We made our way along the boardwalk and sat down on the bench, taking in the view and relishing the fresh and still relatively cool air. The only sounds were the high pitched clucking of a plump of moorhens (had to look up the collective name) and the rhythmic thwoks of an early morning tennis game on one of the courts hidden by the trees somewhere behind us.

All too soon, the sun's rays pierced through the canopy shading our secluded little oasis, dappling the bench with searing sunlight. We decided to walk into the direction of the visitor's centre, where shady picnic benches would be on offer.

But again, our walk turned out to be longer than intended, taking us along a mixture of sun-baked trails and woodland paths, and along various stretches of water, including Hazewinkel, a well-known rowing course at the edge of the domain (bottom left).

The visitor centre and surrounding picnic area were completely deserted, so that we were spoilt for choice, opting for the long communal picnic table situated on the secluded so-called otter and beaver island.

Afterwards, we trudged back to the car park, making a slight detour to the boardwalk and bench, where we watched dragonflies hovering over the lake in search of a meal. Speaking of the latter, we fortified ourselves for the journey home by eating the waffles we'd brought as dessert.

A final view of my outfit, which consisted of the charity shopped Zara trousers I wore on our previous visit, this time accompanied by a printed cotton shirt picked up on a charity shopping trip back in July.

The searing and sultry temperatures continued over the weekend, prompting me to wear clothes I'm only considering on the hottest of days.

Take this jumpsuit, for instance. I'm unashamedly wearing retail here and not even a sales bargain at that. Making a shortcut through Antwerp's walk-through Mango shop, it was love at first sight last Summer.

I can report that it was extremely comfortable to wear and didn't cling anywhere. For the sake of modesty, I did pin a brooch to its decolletage. After some trial and error, I found one that fit the bill perfectly! The wooden beads were the only thing I could bear against my skin

Any gardening is confined to either early morning, when there's still enough shade in the garden to do my deadheading round, or from 9 to 9.30 onwards, for a watering session when the sun has dipped below the horizon.

Hats off to all the annuals who keep going in the face of extreme weather conditions!

I almost forgot to show you the back of my jumpsuit, which is another reason why I was hardly sweating in it at all!

We put up our 1970s parasol - a family heirloom - in our bistro courtyard, even though it's too hot to sit out there. This is mainly for our poor plants' benefit, in order to prevent those residing there burning to a crisp. I even took down the two pots hanging from the brackets of the enamel sign, as keeping them up there would have resulted in their untimely demise.

The King Louie halterneck dress I wore on Sunday was another charity shop find, incidentally picked up in the same shop near Bruges as the Zara trousers.

Too hot for accessories, I kept it simple by pinning a vintage daisy brooch to the dress, and briefly wearing a fused glass ring. Shortly after taking the photos, I took it off to yet again wash my hands, and forgot to put it back on.

The red suede Gabor wedges were last Summer's sales bargain.

Once again, we mostly took shelter inside, at one point dragging ourselves out of our lethargic states to lug a bag of holiday maps and booklets downstairs.

If all goes well, we will be in our usual cottage in Belgium's west country in two weeks' time. Do keep everything crossed for us please!

I'm leaving you now with some more garden loveliness, as in spite of it all, and helped with some of our rather sweaty tender loving care, some plants are still thriving. 

Our hanging strawberry plant is still treating us to regular berries, while pale pink Malva, lavender Salvia and a happy marriage of Verbena and Rudbeckia stubbornly refuse to succumb to the heat!

This will be my first post published through the new Blogger interface, so I do hope everything goes well. Wish me luck!

As always, do stay safe, sane and fabulous! Hope to see you again next time!

If you go down to the woods today

After a rather restless night, I wasn't at all ready to get up at our usual time on Saturday before last.

I had been tossing and turning, jolting awake every hour to check the alarm clock which is at Jos's side of the bed. As I'm obviously not wearing my glasses at night, I had to squint really hard to decipher the digits, by which time I was far too awake to go back to sleep instantly, resulting in more tossing and turning.

It was the night when we would have set our alarm clock for 3.30 am to start our annual trek to the UK, which of course this year isn't happening. All through the day, I kept checking the clock and imagining where we would have been by then. As we have made the journey countless times before, I kept seeing the landmarks we would have been passing in my mind's eye. Always a nerve-wracking experience, we would even gladly have tackled the M25!

Oh Corona, so much to answer for ...

But back to Saturday, which not only had a slow start, but needed the wearing of a favourite outfit to cheer me up. Clothing as armour, as the wise Sheila would say!

Is she, or isn't she, you may wonder. Well, yes, I am. Wearing a jumpsuit, that is! After having scoured the charity shops for months, I found this one in a high street shop just over two years ago. I definitely haven't regretted my purchase as it has earned its acclaim as a wardrobe staple by now.

The fruit-and-veg necklace, which has a matching bracelet, was a charity shop find, as were the two bangles. Both the orange belt, which is an old favourite, and the yellow flower corsage, were retail buys at one time or another.

It had been raining on and off since Friday evening and overnight our garden had received a good soaking. The perfect weather, of course, for our garden's population of slugs and snails to have a field day. The one on the top left was preening itself in the mirror in the passageway after gorging on the gourmet food on offer.

The one and only flower bud in our Oriental poppy was getting itself ready to reveal its precious cargo. I inadvertently photographed an alien playing hide and seek behind it, with its eyes on stalks spying on me. It really pays to click on the collage and enlarge it. Isn't it scary? I wonder what it is!

We'd been gearing ourselves up all morning to put up the trellis in the newly cleared border and add the plants we'd bought on Friday. But by the time we finally made it into the garden, the sun had decided to put in an appearance, turning the spot in question into a heat trap.

Nevertheless, Jos persevered in putting up the trellis against the old and partly crumbling concrete wall separating our garden from next door's. Some of the tangle of Euonymus and gooseberry stems had to be removed, so we picked the poor berries, which were in their first blush, for further ripening inside. Don't worry, we still have more than enough berry-dripping stems left.

With the trellis in place, I already positioned the plants in their designated spaces, deciding to keep the actual planting for another day. We weren't exactly relishing the thought of the serious digging we would have to do before we could plant the Clematis. 

Instead, we gave in to our lethargic state of mind and just let it be. 

Little black rain clouds to match our moods were trying in vain to chase away the innocent whites. 

A host of Fuchsia ballerinas who were dancing with the blue sky as a backdrop were joined by two of the Echinacea flowers who'd donned their fancy tutus, with the soundtrack provided by the busy buzzing bees.

Yes, I was in that frame of mind!

Fooling around with a cheap fish-eye lens for my phone's camera, I made some otherworldly snaps of the garden. The fish-eye effect makes our garden looks much bigger than it actually is!

Still feeling jittery - and doing Jos's head in - on Sunday morning, I desperately needed to get out of the house for a soul restoring walk.

In order to avoid meeting too many other Sunday walkers, we drove down to a park in a neighbouring village around mid morning.

The park in question is one those semi-neglected leafy places, originally landscaped in a style greatly influenced by Capability Brown.

We needn't have worried as apart from some people sunbathing on the main lawn, we only met a handful of other walkers, often accompanied by their dogs, as well as a lady who sat reading a book on one of the benches.

Of course, now that this silly restriction was finally relaxed, we had to sit down on as many benches as possible, making up for lost time.

The winding woodland paths lined with patches of ferns and dotted with delicate pink foxgloves were a delight to walk along, with the sun filtering through the canopy providing a delicious dappled shade. 

Walking on the park's less trodden paths, it was quietly humming with life. Sudden bursts of birdsong mingled with the drowsy buzzing of insects, the snapping of twigs underfoot and the gentle rustling of the leaves.

My short-sleeved cotton vintage frock was a Think Twice bargain back in February. As it still had its tags, this is its very first wear ever. 

I accessorized its indigo, lilac and pink floral pattern with a pink beaded necklace, two pink flower brooches and a lilac vinyl belt. And look, it's got pockets, their tabs as well as the dress's collar made up in a solid indigo with contrasting topstitch.

A sunhat was a necessity but I didn't need the sunglasses I was carrying in my wicker handbag. As you can see, I am wearing my pink floral sneakers again. They have the longest pink satin laces, which have to be tied carefully to avoid tripping over them. I am also wearing socklets to prevent blisters. I'm sure the shoes would have been fine without them, but I thought I'd better be safe than sorry. 

We were making our way towards the park's folly, an ancient ice house with a gazebo on top.

The gazebo can be reached by a narrow winding path spiralling around the mound into which the ice house is built, almost completely hidden behind a barrier of yew hedges.

As passing people on the paths is impossible and would have been extra tricky in this age of social distancing, we had to make sure nobody else was up there.

We'd just reached the top and were about to make some photos when a lady walking her two dogs came up. We chatted while she patiently waited at the end of the path until we'd taken a few snaps. Then we traded places and made our way down the mound again. There wasn't much of a view to be had at this time of year anyway. We were also quite appalled at all the littering, the viewing plantform disfigured by empty beer cans and cigarette butts. 

Back on solid ground, we started walking back towards where we'd parked our car, crossing one of the bridges over the moat - the park was originally part of castle grounds - in order to take a slightly different route. 

Passing through a clearing, we were entranced by the fallen tree on the top left, which we thought  had the look of a long-necked but friendly faced dragon!

Soon we reached our car, but before going home, we stopped at a small open-air garden centre along the way. There are always bargains to be had here, but as it shares its car park with Aldi, we expect it is far too busy to go there during the week. With the supermarket closed on Sunday, all was fine, though.

Of course we couldn't resist buying some plants, which included some shade loving annuals for the passageway, which is hardly getting any sunshine.

The watering can is actually a flat-backed planter we've had for years. Vacated by the remains of the chives it had housed before, it had been languishing empty in a corner. Perfect to disguise the broken back of the old garden chair I've roped in as a plant table, I planted it with a Lobelia and a Begonia, making the sight that greets us when having breakfast even more cheerful!

I'm happy to say that our walk managed to chase away the remainder of my non-holiday blues and that I spent the next week feeling much happier.

Life goes on as they say, and I'm doing my best to grab it with both hands. I do hope that you are doing the same and staying safe!

Sand dunes and salty air

It was on the Friday of our holiday week back in September (can't believe it's already one month ago!) that we were finally greeted by the sun.

Drawing back the curtains, we were met by a sun-drenched landscape as far as the eye could see, even if the hills we were supposed to see in the distance were still obscured by a haze.

Neither a dress nor a pair of trousers were my outfit of choice that day: I'd brought a jumpsuit I'd bought from New Look, and I thought it was about time we went out together!

I used the scarf clip on the bottom right, with its exquisite Millefiori design, for modesty purposes, even though I was wearing a tee shirt underneath. With so many colours to choose from, I picked out blue for my accessories which, apart from the scarf clip, consisted of a belt, beaded necklace and ring.

If you look sharply, you can see I'm being photo-bombed! The tiny figure on top of the ridge where the dark green of the shrubs and the bright green of the field meet is actually the resident goat! Can you spot it?

Not having had our full fix of sea air yet, we decided to make the most of the sunny weather and return to the coast.

So, again we drove down to our nearest seaside resort, De Panne, which also happens to be Belgium's most westerly coastal town, just a stone's throw from the border with France.

Walking towards the seafront, we were welcomed by the statue of Leopold I, the first King of the Belgians. Brushing up my knowledge of Belgium's national history, and educating my non Belgian readers in the process, when Belgium became independent in 1830, its constitution declared that we should have a King. After considering several candidates, the honour fell to Leopold von Saksen-Coburg, who was born in German, but who lived in England at the time.

The new King arrived in Calais by boat on July 17, 1831, from where he was taken to De Panne by coach. The statue was erected in the spot where he first put foot on Belgian soil.

It was quite a blustery day, and as soon as we arrived at the seafront and ventured away from the shelter of the promenade, Jos had to make a run for his hat, which had decided to go its separate way.

Walking along the promenade and then down to the beach, we were leaning into the gale, with the roaring of the waves obliterating every other sound.

Where sky and sea meet, the horizon seemed to be hemmed in a choppy silver line.

No intentional silly pose: I actually had a problem staying upright, and it truly felt as if I was being tossed about by the wind.

The legs of my jumpsuit were flapping about, the thin fabric no match for the tempestuous wind, and putting on my scarf wasn't an easy task, as it kept trying to escape, following the example of Jos's hat.

Walking on the beach, eagerly breathing in the sea's briny aroma, we were mesmerized by the mermaid's call of the waves, overlapping each other in rapid succession, their tips edged by bubbling white foam.

Several years ago, we walked for miles in a nature reserve in the dunes, walking the final stretch along the coastline towards De Panne on the beach.

It had been a glorious Summer's day and we recalled eating our picnic at a viewpoint in the dunes which, in our imagination, wasn't all that far from where we were now.

What if we walked to the viewpoint from here? However, as the tide was high, we had to abandon the beach and walk along the sea wall.

As soon as we'd reached the path leading off the coast, and into shelter of the dunes, the cacophony created by the wind and the waves died away and it was as if we'd entered another world.

Shortly after entering the nature reserve, we started climbing until the aquamarine sea could be glimpsed in the distance. The whitewashed and red-roofed cottages are all that's left of the fisherman's village, where the town's origins lie and where fishing still flourished 100 years ago.

No fisherman could afford to live there now, as the cottages have been turned into exclusive residences.

The 340-hectare Westhoek nature reserve is the only dune area on the Flemish coast where nearly all dune vegetation is represented in one unbroken dune landscape. This is due to two artificial breaks in the dunes (called "slufters") where sea water penetrates into the nature reserve at high tide, making the vegetation and wildlife here of particular interest.

This is a region of rolling sand dunes interspersed with dense thickets of thorny shrubs, where it is possible to wander for hours, feeling miles away from the rest of the world.

The meandering sandy path took us deeper and deeper into the dunes, but we kept going, expecting the viewpoint to appear around the next bend.

We were just about to give up when suddenly there it was. It was hard slog climbing up to the platform erected on top of a dune through the soft and shifting sand, but the panorama which awaited us was definitely worth the effort.

We returned the way we'd come, passing a lonesome and bedraggled cormorant along the way. 

It was getting late and back at the promenade the newly renovated Kursaal beckoned us for lunch.

Sufficiently restored, we explored De Panne's one kilometre-wide sandy beach, which is the widest on the Belgian coastline. 

There's a huge variety of boldly coloured and striped old-fashioned beach huts, which are quite irresistible and a magnet for my camera lens.

Many of these have wheels, looking as if they have just arrived by time machine from a bygone age, when bathing machines, which allowed people to change into swimwear at the water's edge before wading into the sea, were an essential part of sea-side etiquette.

They huddle together in clusters, their colours and names identifying the different rental agencies.

Apart from the quintessential striped ones, I especially loved the blue and white huts named Alice (my late Mum's name), which were decorated with a yellow scallop shell.

We walked all the way along the beach, past a graveyard of empty razor shells and a lonely yellow buoy left landlocked in the rippled sand, to neighbouring resort St. Idesbald.

The wind had lost some of its enthusiasm by then, so that the going was somewhat easier. 

We almost had the beach to ourselves. On this wind-blown day, it was almost devoid of holidaymakers and day-trippers, with only a handful of people like ourselves blowing the cobwebs away. 

Our feet tired after all this walking, we took a breather and then returned to De Panne by tram.

Just one more day, and our holiday would be over ...

Linking my jumpsuit to Nancy's Fancy Friday!

All because of patience

More often than not, I am not the most patient of people.

Being forever strapped for time, I haven't got the patience to queue in shops, wait for unreliable public transport, be stuck in traffic or put up with cold callers, who, I'm sure, have all put me on their to-be-avoided list by now!

However, I'm the complete opposite when it comes to shopping. If we need something for Dove Cottage, for instance, I'm always prepared to look around the charity shops first, rather than rushing off to the high street, or worse, joining the crowds at the Swedish warehouse of sameness.

Take my beloved vintage wardrobe. We trawled around charity and consignment shops for many months until finally, in March 2015, I met the wardrobe of my dreams!

And then there is clothes shopping! As an almost exclusive second hand shopper, I usually go shopping without any particular expectations, and it is the element of surprise, the stumbling upon that one, unique, serendipitous find which makes my heart beat faster.

But once in a while, there is something which is on the wish list residing at the back of my mind, for which, as with the wardrobe, I am biding my time.

I'd been looking for a particular style of red skirt for well over a year but, even though red skirts aren't exactly a rare commodity, I hadn't come across the one, in the right shape, size and material. Until two Saturdays ago, that is. It was on the same day that I found the cape-sleeved vintage maxi, so it must have been my lucky day!

The skirt is an A-line midi length and has a pleat at the front, half hiding a row of buttons. It strongly reminds me of a skirt I had back when I was about 15. The top I wore with it was the same style as the one I paired the red skirt with here, but in plain white, with a red placket and collar, and showing just a little bit more cleavage. I remember getting wolf-whistled at when I rode my bike to school, something which had never happened before and, feeling embarrassed, it was a long time until I wore that top again with any confidence.

Another item on the wish list was a jumpsuit.

The chances of finding a vintage one had always been very slim and new-to-me ones weren't turning up at the charity shops either. As they have been back in fashion for a while, I'd even ventured onto the high street but I hadn't been able to find anything I liked. Even when it comes to fast fashion, I am very particular and not willing to compromise until I find exactly what I want.

One particularly hot day, I was returning from a work-related errand, when I walked past a recently opened shop here in Antwerp, one I always vowed I wouldn't be seen dead in. Consequently, ever since it opened, I'd been avoiding it like the plague but, as it was still early morning and it looked relatively empty, I walked in, relishing the coolness provided by the air conditioning.

And there it was! It wasn't skimpy as most jumpsuits I'd seen in the shops, it had sleeves and a print I instantaneously liked. Still not expecting too much, I made my way to the changing rooms, but I needn't have worried as it fit like a dream!

Although it came with a tie belt, I chose to wear it with a yellow vinyl one, piling on some coordinating jewellery.

You might have spotted the groovy bracelet I'm wearing. That was picked up during a short charity shopping trip last weekend. There was an accompanying pair of earrings (which I won't be wearing as my ears aren't pierced) and a necklace too, and the whole lot went for the crazy price of € 1,50.

I also found some lightweight short-sleeved summer tops and two cardigans.

The print of this vintage C&A frock might be a bit more demure than what I'm usually going for, but its cotton fabric and fresh green and blue print will be perfect for hot Summer days. Its skirt had a row of boring buttons down the front, which I replaced with more fitting, pale green ones from my stash.

The day's final find was a Devon Blue Ware teapot which was sitting rather forlornly and feeling sorry for itself amid some other blue and white pottery on a shelf. Apparently, it had been there for quite a while, as we could only just make out its price, € 0,50, on its faded label.

And now, let's look at last Saturday's outfit.

My Diolen dress has a full-on print of bright Summer flowers, in red, acid green and light blue. I admit that it got somewhat neglected, as I don't think I wore it at all last Summer.

Feeling a bit off that morning, its fiery print was just what I needed to cheer myself up.

My accessories, a lavender blue belt, sky blue flower corsage and light blue necklace helped chase my mild case of the blues away.

In order to balance out all the blues, I wore my mustard yellow short-sleeved cardigan on top.

You might recognize my wicker bag, which I picked up at the huge flea market back in May.

Sadly, one of its handles broke off while we were out shopping, and it's now awaiting repair.

I can't finish this post without showing you the wonderful canvas peep toe wedges I was wearing.

They are Tamaris and a lucky sales bargain from a couple of years ago. A pair that should definitely come out a bit more!

I'm taking my jumpsuit to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style!