2025/53 - Green Doorways of Brielle

 This will be my last blog of 2025...and what a year it has been! For me personally rather a good year, for my gardens a bewildering year and for a lot of you, my cherished readers, sometimes a very difficult year. Wars, droughts, floods, fires. Heavy stuff! So I thought to bring you something completely different, which I hope you will enjoy.

The historical centre of my hometown boasts quite a few green doorways.

Snow is extremely rare these days, so I could not skip this photo.

This is only a selection. I will collect some more in due course.

Right, this is the moment that I will wish you all the best for 2026 with one of my home-made cards! Let's hope it will be a good year, a peaceful year.

I will keep blogging, so do look me up in January '26, and at my website Renée Grashoff Schrijft, where you will stay up to date with my book publishing. I upload a monthly blog there.

Have a safe New Years Eve, and remember: should auld aquaintance be forgot? Of course not.

Take care!

Renée Grashoff 

2025/52 - Toadstools, Fungi, is it all a Mushroom to you?

 My neighbourhood boasts a lot of oak trees. And although built up as we are over here, the grass verges underneath those lovely trees are a treasure trove of toadstools and fungi. I don't claim to be very knowledgeable, I can tell the difference between an ordinary  mushroom, an oyster fungus and a shi-take, and that is about it. But I do enjoy spotting them, so there being a lack of gardening news, that is exactly what I have done for you.*

There are dozens of these curious looking 

Elfin saddle (Helvella crispa) underneath one oak. I am told by my book on fungi it is also called White saddle.

 At first I thought some silly bugger had dropped a load of crumpled tissues...

Anyway, very exotic looking, and to me very welcome!

Not a great photo, sorry!

This is a very common kind underneath our oaks. It is a Lactarius quietus, or milk cap mushroom. They sometimes form circles, what we call 'heksenkringen' (witches circles), and apparently some kinds are edible. But others are very poisonous...so would you take the risk? Not me!

Another find underneath the oaks is this one. It could be an oak gall?

At first I thought it was an Earthstar, but on second thought...no.

Those oaks were infested by the procession caterpillar some years ago, and the council hung up a load of bird boxes in the hope the tits would eat the caterpillars.

If I am correct, this is a family of Lycoperdon perlatum, or Warted Puffball. I took this photo in the Arboretum in Rucphen.

This huge willow hosts what we call 'elfenbankjes', a seat for elves. I believe these are Laetiporus sulphureus. The tree lives in Kralingse Bos in Rotterdam, where I took a walk last August. If I am correct, this is the famous chicken of the woods, and edible. But again, I would never take a bite out of an unknown fungus.

This belongs to the same family, often confused with the abovementioned,  but it is a Meripilus giganteum I found in the Hortus Botanicus in Leiden. A giant polypore. Aren't those colours amazing?! It was as large as a good sized tea tray.

These ones are called Peziza cerea I think. I found the cup fungus on a woodchip path very close to my house, and was quite chuffed, as I had never spotted them before.

* disclaimer

I am no expert! As I mentioned before, I can safely identify 3 edible kinds of mushroom, in the supermarket, and that is it. So please, do not take my word for the identification and never ever eat any of the fungi above. This blog is just for fun!

2025/51 - December Rains and Birds

 This post could also be titled December Mud. Take your pick. The fact is, us delta dwellers cannot see the one separated from the other. When it is dry here, we walk on soil turned to concrete even a pick axe has a hard time breaking. When it rains, we slog through mud up to our ankles.

Attuned as I am to the seasons, I aim for that window between concrete and mud to do my gardening. Some years I am lucky, and the window lasts for a couple of weeks. Other years it slams shut on me within days. The year 2025 will go down in my personal gardening history as 'practically impossible'.

In February 2025, usually the month my gardening year starts in earnest, my soil was okay for digging, except I had no digging planned, as I am a 'no-dig gardener'. That practise has turned my utterly depleted soil to one that boasts fungi and invertebrates again. Hurray! Instead, I sowed seeds in the greenhouse, ready for those seedlings to be planted out in April/May. Except, it never rained from the beginning of March onwards, and when I wanted to plant out the annuals and new perennials, I could not get a spade in the ground.

Okay, long story extremely short: it was a total failure, and took me waiting (and watering pots) until the end of October (!) before I could finally plant out the few surviving perennials. The annuals were dead by then.

And now it is December, and we have had weeks of heavy rain, and my soil has turned to mud. I did put some bulbs and those few survivors into the ground. And now I play a waiting game. Will they settle? Or rot?

Is it all doom and gloom then? No, of course not! I travelled (by bus) to Rotterdam yesterday, and saw to my immense joy a group of storks (Ciconia ciconia) perched on the motorway lights. One on every light mast, sitting relaxed high above the busy traffic, with one bewildered cormorant (Phalacrocorax carbo), no doubt asking himself what company he had landed himself in. A bit like myself having the same thought within a group of football supporters, I imagine.

If you have read some of my posts (or book, where jackdaws play a major role), it will come as no surprise to you that the sight of those large birds made my heart leap. I am not a proper twitcher, but I do enjoy watching birds. I imagine they had just flown in from Africa, and were now resting a bit before finding a nice more permanent perch.

In the area I live in, there is a nature reserve called Breede Water which hosts loads of cormorants, but also spoonbills (Platalea leucorodia), and the latter are thriving in larger and larger numbers. And on the next island over, they have spotted flamingos.

Very close to my house there is a waterway, where herons (Ardea cinerea) congregate, and have a roost in the oaks and shit all over the path. A few years back I painted one. Despite the shitting, I do like them, and Puck greets them with a friendly 'woof!'. They usually greet back with a furious ear-splitting screech.

My appartment is overlooked by the birds that use the flat roof opposite as their perch. I watch them watching me. Gulls (Larus argentatus) love to sit on the modern chimney, and also nest there. And every year a couple of oystercatchers (Haematopus ostralegus) swoop in screeching, in April, and nest on the pebbles of the roof. As I am typing this, that herring gull is watching me very attentively, as if he feels I am writing about him.

Small birds visit the food I put out for them on my balcony. Mostly tits, both coal (Parus major) and blue (Cyanistes caeruleus), but the occasional finch (Fringilla coelebs) lands as well. The jackdaws (Corvus monedula) and magpies (Pica pica) try, but they cannot perch anywhere to get at the food. Mind you, both kinds try to hang from the pot of bird butter I put out, and there is one magpie that has got the hang of it, so to speak, and gulps down a beak full before he falls away. All birds are used to Puck and me, and ignore us. Puck tolerates the jackdaws when on the balcony, but she shows them who is queen when we are walking. They in turn dive bomb us during their breeding season! Last June one of them drew blood, and I was forced to evade their corner for weeks. I do not mind one bit, I enjoy their noisy gregarious murder.

Right. This blog has become a mix between garden and birds. The thing is, there is not a lot to tell about my garden right now...It is mostly very wet. And the sky is mostly very grey, and wet. And when I do venture out to the allotment I get very wet...

Whereas birds show themselves, now that they find fewer insects and seeds in the hedgerows. When I walk Puck in the dark at 6 a.m., there are birds singing. Just a few, but all the same! Their song lifts my spirits.

Totally off-subject, I would like to convey my condolences to my readers in Hong Kong. That devastating fire of Nov.26/27 was shown on our TV, and I was shocked. I am wishing you well.

Take care,

Renée Grashoff 

2025/50 - Botanical nerdy stuff

 Since my last two posts our Delta weather has taken a wintry turn. Suddenly the night frost has reluctantly arrived, and during the day it is chilly, what we call 'guur'. Guur means your lips chap, you curse yourself you have forgotten your gloves, you have to defrost car windows, and you long for hot toddies. In my personal case it also means walkies are a wet affair, for it rains a lot.

Still, I do visit Hunky Dory, and try to do my business in between the showers and hail. This week I have continued replanting. I did dig up that pesky clump of Solidago that was in the wrong spot, and have moved a few shrubs to better places. 

The Pyracantha 'Teton' I mentioned last week has gotten a pyramid support and a trim. I am trying to get it to form a pyramid shape. Quite ambitious, as this plant longs for a nice wall to climb against... I can't provide one, so I am experimenting. It 'thanked' me by piercing my leather gardening gloves with its thorns. Wicked they are! Still, the berries are glorious this year!

Whilst I was walking back and forth doing my bits and bobs, I surprised (or scared, sorry sweetie!) a large hare in the Fig Jungle. It suddenly jumped up from its lair and legged it down the allotments.

Seeing wildlife in the garden always makes me happy. I know there is a hedgehog around, as I find its scat, but I have only seen it the once.

That hare was in this Fig grove. It borders my plot and is sadly totally neglected. Why some people take on an allotment and then never visit, is beyond my comprehension. My bewilderment must be because I was on the waiting list for years!

Some toadstools have sprouted beneath my Pinus. They look nibbled. Mice?

Making a sudden leap to something entirely different: this gorgeous Orchid is my son's. I am very envious.

He has inherited my love for plants and wildlife, so I have painted him a plant as one of his Christmas presents.

It is actually a wooden tray.

Obviously I could not forget my daughter, but her 'thing' is cats.

Cute, eh? Being in the mood for some more painting, I did myself a new one for my wall.

Liking the one for my son, I used the same umbel plant as inspiration.

Right, back to basics! For those of you in Mexico, and Asia, that sky, and more specifically that light level, is your typical Dutch Delta winter gloom. ( I took this photo in the middle of the day!) So perhaps you can understand I fight winter depression? Still, meeting hares does brighten up my day, and mood, at the same time.

I hope you have a lovely weekend, wherever you are. Do visit my website at Renée Grashoff Schrijft if you want to keep up to date about my novels.

Take care!

Renée Grashoff 

2025/49 - Have you planted your Tulips yet?

 Being Dutch and disliking Tulips is a contradiction in terms. Or almost a sin. Take your pick!

Still, when I was young, I thought them stiff plants, boring. That was long before I started gardening myself. And also before I started getting the winter blues with the climbing of my years. Now, I use planting Tulips in November as a reminder that 'things' will get better again, that the grey winter sky will become blue again. 

So ever since Hunky Dory has become 'mine', I have made it a ritual to plant some new Tulips in November. This time I have gone for red ones: Tulipa Pallada, Tulipa Miranda, Tulipa Doll's Minuet, and Tulipa Pieter de Leur.  Hopefully they will do better than my pitiful summer bulbs! When I was planting them, the largest earthworm I have seen so far, wriggled up from the soil so fast that I nearly jumped. Hurray! As thick as my finger and 10 cm long! My hard work at improving my soil is paying off! Happy, happy😃

Besides that, I have only done some tidying this afternoon. I had planned to dig up the Solidago which has spread into the grass path, but when I was actually there I lacked the energy. I did thin out the planter in the greenhouse though, taking the excess endive/chicori/romain/chicory* to eat as a salad. We call it andijvie, and I love it both raw as well as cooked.

* English translations of this plant name vary wherever you live. Andijvie is translated by endive, but what is called endive, we Dutch call witlof! So: the official Latin name is Chichorium endivia var. latifolium. What's in a name, eh?

Outside there were some surprises for me, the weather being weird as ****

This Helleborus niger Mont Blanc is supposed to flower in March. But here it is.

The Rosa Masquerade I moved into the soil from its pot a few weeks ago, is so happy there that it produced one flower for me. Its flowers are no larger than a 2p piece, but it was covered in them in summer. I bought it in the sale, and truthfully its flowers look totally different from the ones on the label! Not quite as elegant, nor as large...A case of the wrong label, or simple fraud? Never mind, a rose is a rose is a rose, right?

The Pyracantha Teton is covered in berries this year. The Papyrus next to it keeps looking interesting, even when gone brown.

This grass is gorgeous! I like grasses anyway, and that is a good thing too, as my garden is swamped by the wild varieties*. This one I bought though, it is Carex Testacea Prairie Fire. It comes into its own now that the surrounding summer perennials have died down.

* some of those are really nice too. But most are just thugs that I have to pull out. The seed flies in on the wind from the fields next to the allotments, me being on the edge.

These Phlomis russeliana seed heads are much too lovely to cut off, don't you think? I planted it especially for the butterflies, but made the mistake of putting it too close to the Artichokes, so it gets a bit bullied. But looking at those Artichokes today, made me realise that they seem to have moved themselves a bit to the left for next year. Come to think of it, everything is a bit too close to the Artichokes...or they are simply getting too big each year. Still, the bumblebees and ladybirds adore them, so they can stay.

Another plant that refuses to go dormant is the Scabiosa. It has had a difficult time this summer because of the drought, and is now making the most of the rain we've had lately.

I have deadheaded religiously, which helps. Still, I should plant some fresh ones next Spring, as the clumps do dwindle after four years.

The entire garden is covered in young Nasturtiums...obviously they are much too late in the season , but some are flowering. So far no night frosts are predicted (weird in itself, in this part of the delta we should be having night frost from late October onwards), so they will live on until then. And then turn to snot.

The Artichoke which I cut down to the soil, as a storm had blown it completely flat to the ground, has grown up to hip-height already. The other two are still tiny, so this one must be on a rich water veign. 

Now that the trees in my neighbourhood have dropped most of their leaves, the little birds are moving into the gardens. So this afternoon I drove to my favourite nursery and bought a simple birdfeeder. I hung it on the balcony, in sight from my easy chair. The Jackdaws are already checking it out from the flat roof opposite, but they have nowhere to land, it is for the small birds only. I get visited by Blue Tits and Coal Tits during the winter months. I keep hoping for a Robin, but they think my 3rd floor balcony much too high. And I wink at the group of 15 Banded Parakeets that screech at me when they do their fly-by to swoop on the birdfood in a house perpendicular on my block of flats.

Okay, this is it; have a good weekend wherever* you are. (* I noticed some new readers in the USA and Sweden, welcome!) I'll leave you with a photo of my 'kerstcactus', Schlumberger, which refuses to wait for Christmas every year, and stubbornly flowers in November instead. I have repotted it 4 times to bigger pots in the 7 years since I was given it as a baby, and it has given me numerous new babies.

Do look me up on my website: Renée Grashoff Schrijft

Bye bye,

Renée Grashoff 

 

2025/ Boerenwormkruid Nieuws deel 3 - update november

 Voor diegenen onder jullie die met ingehouden adem (niet doen hoor! Hou gewoon je vingers gekruist, dat is beter voor je gezondheid) wachten op de publicatiedatum van deel 2 in de trilogie over Noor en haar vrienden, heb ik nieuws.

Ik kreeg dit screenshot door een vriendin toegestuurd. "Oh my giddy aunt", zou Noor roepen. "Wereldberoemd in Oekraïne!"

Eerlijk gezegd zijn dit de momenten waarop ik eerst van schrik mijn ogen toeknijp en mezelf afvraag of ik dit wel leuk vind, en in tweede instantie in lachen uitbarst. Als jij niet weet wat 'imposter syndrome' is, moet je het maar even opzoeken. Voor mij is het een dingetje, dat ik meestal probeer te negeren.

Feedback

Heel af en toe word ik 'herkend'. "Jij bent toch...?" (Vul maar in: die schrijfster, Grashoff, die van dat boek, dat mens dat over Brielle schrijft)

Gelukkig zijn 99% van dat soort reakties positief! En dus leuk. Tot die ene ochtend dat ik aangesproken werd (tussen twee schuifdeuren in, kon geen kant op) door een oude kerel. Hij vond het absoluut nodig mij te vertellen dat hij, "Het is echt geen kritiek hoor, maar feedback en daar moet jij maar tegen kunnen!", teleurgesteld was in mijn schrijfstijl. Vervolgens herhaalde hij zijn feedback nog vier keer, back-to-back. Ik schrijf te simpel. Het viel me nog mee dat hij niets feedbackte over mijn gebruik van Engelse woorden. Misschien vielen die wèl in de smaak, gezien zijn gebruik van het woord feedback?

Simple schrijfstijl

Dom, dom, dom, probeerde ik nog uit te leggen dat ik mijn simpele schrijfstijl volkomen bewust inzet, zodat ook mensen die nooit een boek lezen in elk geval mijn boek kùnnen lezen. Hierbij mijn eigen regel, nooit tussen schuifdeuren in discussie gaan met oude kerels, vergetend. Het werkte ook totáál niet, hij deed wat oude knarren zoals hij altijd doen, nl de mening van vrouwen volkomen negeren.

Publicatiedatum

Hallóó, hoor ik je nu roepen. Je nieuws?!

Sorry.

Ja, mijn grote nieuws. Trichis en ik zijn overeengekomen dat 'Zwaartekracht' wederom in februari uitkomt. Dat wil dus zeggen over pak-em-beet 3 maanden. De tekst is af, de aquarel voor op de cover ook. Je kunt Trichis al laten weten dat je niet kunt wachten het in je handen te hebben. Vinden ze leuk.

Een tipje van de sluier? De eerste april, maar ook de Tachtigjarige Oorlog, spelen weer een grote rol in het verhaal. Noor loopt Inspecteur Jansen voor de voeten, en Agnieken balanceert op het slappe koord van het leven in een door godsdienst gepolariseerd Den Briel. Kortom, er valt weer veel te genieten, te grinniken en na te denken. In een simple schrijfstijl. Hell yeah!