Dixon Hill News

Have you signed up for the Dixon Hill newsletter yet?  If not, you really should!

It arrives in your inbox once a month and, besides Dixon Hill news, you’ll find extra goodies of various kinds reserved only for newsletter friends.  This month, for instance, there’s been free shipping on Moshiki skirts.

I also asked newsletter peeps to let me see March in their corner of the world.  My favourite image of those sent was this one on the left.  It’s from Bethany in Arkansas.  Gorgeous shot.  Don’t you just love hyacinths?  I can smell it from here!

But I also had to show you Karen’s lovely picture of daffodils and grape hyacinths (below); and, more importantly, the cake they inspired.  So pretty!  How could she bear to cut into that?

Sign up now and you’ll receive the April newsletter when it appears.  I promise there are more treats in store!

The Little Mermaid

Copenhagen is a city of buskers and bicycles.  It’s also, of course, Hans Christian Andersen territory.  I can’t be the first tourist to have spent a whole weekend singing Thumbelina sotto voce whilst images of Danny Kaye danced through my head.

We hadn’t, however, expected to see The Little Mermaid this weekend - Edvard Eriksen‘s iconic statue that pays homage to the famous Andersen fairy tale.  We knew she’d swum off to China amidst some controversy to feature in the Shanghai Expo.

Happily for us, though, she was back from her travels - sitting once again upon her usual rock at the harbour side.  Looking lovely.

I was glad.  Copenhagen wouldn’t have been the same without her.

Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen!

I’ve spent the last couple of days in Copenhagen.  And since travel is (so they say) an education, I thought I’d pass on the wisdom gleaned from my latest jaunt.

• Should you ever be invited to a wedding at the town hall in Copenhagen, you might want to rethink the tradition of showering the happy couple with rice as they emerge from the majestic building.  That is, if you want to avoid a flock of hungry seagulls dive-bombing the bridal party in an attempt to snatch a free dinner.


• An exceedingly good way to get about town for those too lazy to walk is to don a pair of roller skates, borrow two pet dogs and act like they’re huskies.


• If you spot a troop of soldiers and a marching band, feel free to tag alongside as they wheel through the streets on their way to or from the changing of the royal guard.  Very jolly fun.


• Should you be an optician in search of a novel idea for your window display, consider suspending slices of toast on threads of differing lengths and hanging in said window.  Use a few more slices as little cushions on which to place pairs of spectacles.  And toss yet more into a basket with some more glasses and a plastic flower or two.  Or not.


• For an truly exquisite meal, book yourself a table at GODT.


• Earth Hour is not the best time to begin picking your way through the streets of an unfamiliar and near pitch black city.


• Smushi (tiny Danish open sandwiches with a ‘contemporary sushi twist‘) are a seriously divine invention worthy of wider repute.


• If ever you find yourself within a hundred miles of a branch of Joe and The Juice, go there post haste.  Approach the counter and demand, ‘Sex Me Up, please!’  When the response is, ‘Certainly!  Large or small?’ you should most definitely reply, ‘Sex Me Up Big!’  You will then be given one of the most delectable nectars known to man - passion fruit, apple and ginger juice.  (If you have a juicer at home, try it!)

A Spring Summer’s Day

Spring may have arrived only a couple of days ago, but summer came today.

Up on the moor this morning, the scent of roses was so thick and heavy I actually curled out my tongue to taste the deliciousness.  Roses?  I swear it.  Impossible, I know.  It’s March and there are no roses in bloom; and, if there were, they certainly wouldn’t be found up on the moors.  Yet the fragrance was strong and persistent; the air so very still and sweet.

High in the blue above, a lazy aeroplane droned on and on and on.  In the valley below, a cockerel greeted the day noisily.  I was enveloped in birdsong as curlews dipped and darted about me on all sides.

Too warm to need a coat, even as the sun still rose.  The light was milky and clear and glistening all at the same time.  A day for dawdling, lingering, like a summer siesta.

The world’s weather patterns may be shifting (spring has brought fresh snowfalls for friends in New England and Canada….); but the weirdness does throw up the occasional gem.

The Nature Table: March

It’s the birds I’m noticing most now that spring is here.

This morning I peeped over a dry stone wall and two startled herons rose up from the pond in front of me and, silhouetted by the sun, headed for the horizon.

A couple of days ago, driving along our lane, a peacock flew across my path - just inches from the car’s windscreen.

Pairs of birds of various kinds are thronging about the sunflower seeds I pile on the wall behind the house each morning.  And the curlews are back on the moors with their distinctive and joyful cry.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the kind of long lens that is going to get me decent photos of any of these winged creatures.  And even my favourite tame robin is determinedly camera shy.  Then again, I could hardly go kidnapping a bird to put on my nature table, now could I?  So it really doesn’t matter.

Lambs, on the other hand, are entitled to be here.  I could certainly borrow one of those for an hour or two.  Which means I get to include them!

Here then are the spoils of March.

1.  Newly grown pond weed.
2.  Catkins.
3.  The mock orange bursting forth.
4.  Garden primulas.
5.  Coltsfoots (coltsfeet?) on the moor edge.
6.  The first wobbly-legged lambs are appearing in the fields.
7.  Fresh eggs from the new Dixon Hill hens.
8.  Bright orange moss growing on the wall tops.
9.  The small pond is filling with frog spawn.
10. The ducks are back on the big pond.
11. Miniature daffodils.
12. Crocuses.
13. The Lenten rose is out in the garden.
14. Tiny buds on the heather.
15. Hawthorn leaves unfurling.
16. The long stems of forsythia.