It’s the peak of autumn and there have been several
opportunities to enjoy some psithurism, mostly in the form of raking up leaves. The autumn colours at home and throughout the
valley are stunning, as are the crisp mornings that give way to glorious
sunshiny mornings. As soon as the sun
goes down at the end of the day the temperature plummets and we’re grateful for
the penetrating heat from the wood burning stove.
The veg garden is still being bedded down for winter, and
most areas are nicely tucked up. Once
the leaves from the step-over espalier apple trees have fallen, then that bed
can be tidied up properly. That’ll
include pruning the apples, cutting out and tying in the raspberries, and then
digging up the boysenberries and replacing them with 3 other berry fruit plants
(berry crosses that produce large berries).
The boysenberries haven’t ever fruited really well, and they are very
rampant and prickly, so I’m keen to try something else. They’ll probably be a nightmare to remove. The fig tree bed also needs some final attention. There are carrots in there hidden amongst the weeds. The fig tree itself has been severely pruned and re-balanced after it was wind-ravaged. Fingers crossed that's what it needs.
I’d thought the fruit was over, but had totally discounted
the humble feijoa. There are 4 trees,
one of which was originally on the property when we arrived, and then dug up
and moved into the vege garden. It’s the
biggest of them all, though that’s not really very big at all. There was a small crop last year, but this
year it’s dripping with fruit, and the other 3 trees have also fruited. I’ve dehydrated some and they work well as
little pockets of tangy dried fruit.
Such a pleasure to have fresh fruit at this time of year, though they
are a fruit that polarise people in terms of love/hate. A bit like sprouts. Or pumpkins.
There are still some hardy veg hanging in there, but we’re
mostly down to the stalwart (and totally fabulous) carrots. A patch of leeks are nearly ready to eat as
baby leeks, and there are a few final brassicas left. There are the stored pumpkins, onions and
spuds too. The remaining kale is getting
a bit too robustly brassica-ish, even for my tastes. The currants need some tidying and the
asparagus has to be cut down and fertilised with generous dollops of horse poo. Finally there needs to be a bit of raking the
organic matter from the gravel paths around the beds and making a decision
about how to deal with the pathway weeds.
Karyn demanded a parsnip re-count, and it has to be conceded
that I had considerably underestimated.
There are 6 parsnips in her bed, not 3.
Not exactly a panacea for world hunger, but I stand corrected. She’s also growing some pretty impressive
cauliflowers, broccoli and cabbage. There,
I said it.
The giant pumpkin weighed a whopping 25kgs. It was great fun hacking it with a machete. It was soft and quite
edible, though not particularly flavoursome.
The pigs had a good feed of it, and there’s some in the freezer waiting
for me to ‘tszuj’ it up into a soup or something. I’m hoping the other pumpkins from the veg
garden will be tastier.
Thyme, sage and fennel seedlings have been planted in the
last raised bed in the horse arena.
They’re quite small and I’m hoping that it’s not a mistake to have
planted them now. The soil beneath them
is still a composting work in progress and is quite woody in places at the top
– a kind of upside-down hugelkultur bed.
That means they’re planted quite deeply and there’s a risk that they
might be overwhelmed by the surface pea straw.
So far so good, but knowing me I’ll probably take my eye off the ball at
the key moment.
The gardens around the house are also being prepped for
winter. Most of them, including the herb
garden, have now been weeded, horse-poo’ed and hay mulched. A few hardy flowers are hanging in there, but
most of the remaining colour is autumnal.
I’ve dug up, divided and re-planted a large patch of paeonies that were
too close to the new hedge, and also planted some gifted iris bulbs. Hopefully no perennials were weeded out, and
hopefully there are plenty of annual seeds poised ready to pop up in
spring.
No chooks mean that the farm is eerily quieter than
usual. And now no pigs too - Bruce, the
local home-kill man came for them.
Friends Carol and Karyn have one each, one will return to us from the
butcher as hams, bacon, sausages and loins.
The last pig was initially stored in Bruce’s chiller, and then
transferred to our dining room table where Peter honed his amateur butchery
skills again. One of the hams is now
being brined (in a cool box on the front door step), and the other is salting
to become prosciutto. There are 2
shoulder joints soaking in a brine/cider (batch 3)/honey solution in the
fridge, which will be sliced into bacon.
With Karyn’s help and plenty of innuendo-filled banter, several pounds
of mince were fashioned into sausages and chorizo. The joy of transferable skills!
There have been no more cider explosions, but it has become
necessary to store the ginger beer outside.
As we were watching Coronation Street one night, there was a great big
BOOF. One of the ginger beer bottles had
exploded and re-decorated the kitchen.
The top and base of the bottle was blown off, and ginger beer dripped
from the ceiling, the walls and the benchtops.
Bugger. Even despite a major
clean up, it only takes to the sun to shine in a certain direction to reveal
more sticky streaks all over the place. That’s a pretty poor track record for my
ferments this year, though it does confirm the power of wild yeasts.
Anzac Day was as poignant as ever. We decided to go to the Blenheim ceremony so
that we could watch Sam march and play with the Marlborough District Brass Band
for the last time before he left home.
It was a gorgeous Marlborough Day (as it often is for Anzac) and Seymour
Square was beautifully autumnal. Sam
left soon after, driving to Burnham (Christchurch) via the Lewis Pass. It was a hideous drive for him as the Pass is
well munted from all the extra traffic and the freight. He did get there ok though and is now settled
into the army barracks, getting straight on with recording a brass band CD, acquiring
heaps of kit, and looking forward to playing at the British and Irish Lions
rugby in July.
We’re beginning to adjust to being down to 3 at home. We didn’t see a great deal of Sam when he was
here, but there’s still a Sam-sized hole in our lives. Pass me the pipe and slippers. And the gin.
