May 2017

                                  

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.

April 2017

Cyclone Cook has been and gone and was much less of a disaster than predicted.  For us at least, though not for the far north east of the North Island, who really copped it.  Otherwise it’s been quite a mild autumn so far.  There’s been a run of cloudy days that are definitely not conducive to solar dehydrating, but can’t really complain.

The gardens had been neglected a bit, and the weeds were thriving as usual.  The Easter weekend allowed for some good progress in terms of clearing and tucking up most beds for winter.  The last of the tomatoes have been harvested, and the green ones are now ripening indoors.  Only a few crops remain in the ground.  The cleared beds are receiving a top dressing of horse poo and a layer of pea straw that should serve them well.  The pea straw contains lots of pea seeds that should add more soil nutrients by germinating.  I’ve also thrown in a few broad beans and lupin seeds for good measure.  The pea straw copped that recent deluge of rain and is now very difficult to handle.  It’s slimy, mouldy and is generating a fair amount of heat as it decomposes.  Yum.  It has an earthy sort of smell too, not unpleasant, though not the kind of scent you’d want to dab behind your ears.

Weeding of the pathways has started, and that’s a stern reminder of the drawbacks of using gravel.  It gets very hot in summer, too hot to kneel on to work the beds.  It’s also impossible to keep out the soil that falls from the raised beds, so weeding becomes an ever-present task.  Then there’s the pain of kneeling down with gravel in your gumboots.  It always manages to find the most painful place on your foot or ankle to dig into.  And old-age knees mean that kneeling down to weed for long periods is just not going to be a forever option.  I’ve bought some ‘organic’ weed-spray, but have been reluctant to use it.  Probably I need a long hard word with myself.

Cropping is still ongoing – carrots, cabbage, beetroot, kale, tomatoes, turnips and of course, pumpkins.  The cabbages are mine, but the cauliflowers in the picture below are Karyn’s.  She’s feeling smug because she’s got 3 more parsnips than me, i.e. she has 3.  But with a pumpkin that big, I’ve surely got the monopoly on smugness.  The plan is to pick it at its biggest and before it starts to rot.  What could possibly go wrong?

There are herbs lined up ready for planting.  They just need to wait until the pea straw has bedded itself down, and in they’ll go.  The thyme cuttings weren’t very successful – only 3 survived, and they’ll be planted with some bought thyme (pizza, purple, silver and golden).  The sage (plain and variegated) have propagated much more prolifically and will be planted alongside the thyme in the remaining raised bed in the horse arena that was the previous compost bed.  A few bronze fennel will also be added.  Parsley seedlings (that self-seeded in the peppermint bed) are poised to go in the rosemary-hedged bed next to the Gin Palace.  Hopefully they’ll all put down some good roots over winter and take off in spring.

There are a few autumn raspberries, and the strawberries have fruited again - a smaller crop that the birds mostly got to first.  The strawberries need some serious thinning, that one day I’ll get round to.  In the meantime I’ve potted on several of the runners.  These will be planted in one of the citrus beds.  They’ll eventually be crowded out by the citrus, but we should get a couple of years fruiting out of them before that happens.  Wild alpine strawberries in the flower garden have been dug up too.  Some are potted, and the rest are planted in the other citrus bed. 

There’s been a late flush of flowers that have brightened up the flower garden.  The nigella is a long-standing favourite, and the dahlias are abundantly cheery.  That the hollyhocks are still upright is a tiny miracle.  Dandelions and other weed flowers add a touch of sunny yellow.  Some serious weeding and a good dollop of pea straw mulch is on the cards.  That’ll be quite a task once it hits the top of the priority list (probably the middle of winter).

 

We’re still holding out that there are some pregnancies among the cows and sheep.  We

moved them all into the hay barn paddock when the heavy rain was forecast (it’s our highest land) and it’s here that they enjoy finding many ways of making mischief.  The hay barn itself is a source of much entertainment – how best to break in to get to the pristine hay for example.  Then there are the joys of crashing through the chicken wire into the chicken run, and the potential for breaking into the wetland or orchard. The cows are the worst culprits, though their naughty behaviour can sometimes be quite endearing.  Hermes, the last in the cattle pecking order, has discovered that he can exert his power over the sheep, and spends many a happy hour herding them onto a corner again and again.  Dionysus is the noisiest and the beast most likely to give you an ‘I’m a big angry bull’ look, before shooting off with his tail between his legs when you raise your voice and arms at him. 

‘Solly’ has been cranked up at every ray of sunshine.  We’re still trying to tweak her to increase the heat capacity, and have added a fan powered by a solar panel to improve the air flow.  Peter’s also rigged up an attractive fan ‘brake’ – a piece of wood that can be swung down to shade and thereby halt the fan.  It was a joy to discuss the fan with the geeky staff at Jaycar’s, who seemed quite genuinely intrigued by the whole solar dehydrator project.  So far the fan experiment is looking very positive, and optimistically will extend our dehydrating season. 

Three batches of cider are bottled up, just in time for the 2017 Onamalutu Cider Competition in June.  Batch 3 (‘Silke’s Rough Again’) is not looking a likely contender because of its explosive tendencies.  The first clue came when the brown plastic bottles wouldn’t stand up because the pressure generated by the wild yeasts pushed out the base, and also the flat-caps were strangely convex.  An earlier and relatively minor eruption from a bottle of ‘Scrumpy Jill’ that coated the kitchen benches and windows, meant that we figured it would probably be a good plan to open ‘Silke’s Rough Again’ outside.  The video proves that this was one of my best plans.  On balance, I won’t be entering it into the cider contest, though it’s tempting. 

The chooks had gone off the lay, and we made the decision to not carry them over winter.  They’re now in the freezer, except Sweet Pea – last year’s hen who’s younger than the others.  Luckily we found another home for her at our neighbour’s place.  Shona and Craig have several other hens and were happy to add another to their flock.  Having no foul means we can really sort out and clean the hen house/run, and in the absence of stored feed, optimistically we’ll have a better chance at hammering the rodent population.  It’s been a while since we were without chickens, and it’s quite an adjustment. 

The pigs are on countdown too, probably early May or before.  There are still a few old apples around, and plenty of weeds when I get round to weeding, so they’re not devoid of food treats.  But these are drying up and the pigs are robust and a decent size.  And there’s space in the freezer.  We just need to make a few decisions about processing (in the absence of that cold-smoker that’s been on the to-do list for a few years now).

Peter hadn’t ridden a motorbike for years, and figured if he didn’t get round to it again soon, then old age and senility could well prevent him from doing so in the not too distant future.  A cute little red Ducati for sale on TradeMe tempted him, and it’s definitely his new toy.  He’s made a couple of work trips on it already, but the plan is to use it as a commuting vehicle in the warmer months.  Maybe I’ll even take it for a spin one day (if I’m allowed).

Sam has just had confirmation the he’s starting in the army as a musician.  He’d been waiting months, and suddenly it’s all happening and he’ll be moving to Burnham, Christchurch next week.  The lengthy process to date had lulled me into a false sense of ‘never-going-to-happen’, and it’s only really dawning on me now that he’ll actually be leaving home.  I’m feeling a sudden urge to dig out baby photos and assemble a survival food pack.

As another child packs his bags in search of a life more exciting and happening than the one he’s leaving behind, it’s an appropriate moment to reflect on our not-very-exciting life here on the block.  It’s not something I’d have aspired to as a young woman, but somehow my life has driven itself to this place.  It’s more a place of contentment than excitement, and so arguably more in-keeping with my life-stage.  I do get excited about things others would find mundane (like solar fans and giant pumpkins), and I’m massively grateful that my good health enables me to work hard physically when that’s required.  I love a good old belly laugh, and the firewood in the photo really tickled me (and shows that we don't only do rude carrots here...).

However weird I might be, I feel blessed that this is a felicitous life for me.  Happy days.

March 2017

The days are drawing in, and winter's beginning to feel like it's snapping at our heels.  I’m desperately trying to squeeze in as many solar-dehydrating hours as possible before Autumn rolls over.  The fruit is the main priority – mostly apples, peachcots and peaches – being joined by whatever herbs that can be accommodated depending on the weather forecast.  Still in use is the Sunflair, as this can reach higher temperatures than ‘Solly’.  Generally the fruit starts off in the Sunflair before being transferred into Solly to complete the dehydration.  I’ve also had a bash at drying rhubarb and celery, which shrink to tiny weeny pieces.  I’m looking forward to spending some time re-hydrating and seeing what everything reverts to.

I've ordered 3 Thompsons Seedless grape vines, that will arrive in a month or so, and have potted on 2 Camellia Sinensis (real tea) plants plus a Stevia.  They'll be protected over winter and then planted out in spring, once the decision is made about where they're going.  The grape variety is the most common grape used globally for drying into raisins, and I hope to be able to take cuttings to expand my stock. 

The 3^rd batch of cider (unremembered name Russety + crab apples) is in a bucket on the kitchen bench, covered by an old tea towel that is tied on with some string.  Batches 1 (Bramley apples) and 2 (Hetlina + crab apples) are already bottled and should be left for as long as possible to brew.   I‘ll have to hide them from myself (haha).   I’ve been using Lynda Hallinan’s recipe, involving freezing apples, blitzing them, adding water, leaving to ferment in wild yeasts before straining, sweetening and then bottling.  The Bramley batch was creatively named ‘Scrumpy Jill’ by Peter.  Then we did a little research into the origins of Scrumpy and found that before it was called Scrumpy it was known as ‘Rough’.  According to the oracle Wikipedia, ‘Rough’ was known as the customary drink of farm labourers in the west of England, who would generally receive up to a quart daily as an incentive on top of their wages.  In honour of my familial connections with the West Country, future batches  of cider will henceforth be known as ‘Silke’s Rough’, at least until the double entendre wears too thin.  Here’s hoping that one of the batches enables me to defend my Cider Queen crown for 2017.

Ongoing ferments are the cider apple vinegar and sauerkraut.  They’re at least looking like I’d expected, so hopefully will not be disasters.  The quinces are ripening, so I’ve taken the liberty of purchasing a couple of bottles of vodka, only because that’s the best way to preserve them.  I’ve also learned from Lynda Hallinan (at her talk on preserving in Blenheim Mitre 10 – never let it be said that Blenheim is a backwater) what the heck to do with medlars.  Apparently they make great jelly, though you do have to wait until they rot (known as bletting) before using them.

The vege garden is beautifully productive, and happily I’m just about managing to keep on top of cropping.  There are a few has-beans and some gone-to-seed peas, but otherwise things are either being eaten or preserved somehow.  Carrots are on tap, as are kale and beetroot, and as usual, it’s a great pumpkin season.  Even Karyn begrudgingly conceded that my most massively stunning pumpkin is already impressive. 

The fruit is coming to an end, really now just the peaches are left to finish off the season.  There were several conference pears hidden amongst the high branches, despite the storm that wreaked havoc with unripe fruit.  Hopefully next year will be significantly better.  We’ve had a go with my new fruit picker grabby-baskety thing that was a Christmas present.  Peter ingeniously attached it onto the pole of an old landing net, so it’s extendable.  It beats the alternative of standing under a tree and shaking it, and being pelted with falling fruit.  The pigs are still doing pretty well from orchard windfalls and gifted rotten fruit from a range of sources.

The honey yield total was around 24 litres all up, similar to last year.  Luckily the second honey raid yielded loads more honey than the first harvest would have suggested.  I’m planning to make more mead with the residue of last year’s honey, and also have a go with this new honey.  I might even get it formally tested for tutin this time.  Previously I’ve relied on the old ‘test it on myself’ method, which has in fact been totally successful in that I’m still alive.  I may not always be so fortunate…

The chooks are just going off the lay, and I’m facing the prospect of buying eggs.  They’re always a disappointment, even the organic free-range ones.  It does make us realise how generally spoilt we are on the egg front.  Karyn often brings food treats round for the chooks and the pigs (and for Maggie, though these are deliberately selected to make her fart).  She often goes home with eggs that she assures me are shared by the family.  I reserve the biggest eggs for her son Greg, partly so that I can confirm with him they are shared.  Over time, these have become fondly known as ‘Greg-eggs’, and there have been some right whoppers that must have made the hen’s eyes water.  The photo shows (in reverse order) a normal sized egg, then a large egg, and finally one such colossus. 

The overall harvest has been mixed this year.  Top vege crops were carrots, corn, brassicas, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, beetroot, courgettes, pumpkins, onions and spuds, with Jerusalem Artichokes yet to be dug.  The single hop plant (in the photo) has bloomed its heart out and the flowers/cones are just about ready to harvest.  Better start looking into beer recipes.  Top flops were aubergine, peppers, and peas.  Garlic has also been as pathetic as usual, but this year I’m determined to get it planted on the shortest day as recommended.  Apples and stone-fruit have been abundant and feijoas are promising; cooking apples and pears were moderate, and cider apples, cherries, berries and currants quite disappointing.  Some of that is down to the weather bomb and my failure to use bird-protection.  The rest I’m working on. 

On the livestock front, not a lot has changed.  The pigs are robust and grunty, and have nearly totally cleared their run of vegetation.  The remaining greenery is tansy - a plant that is toxic to some creatures - probably very wise for them to avoid it.

The sheep are behaving and so, mostly, are the cows.  Other than a penchant for damaging their water tank supply. Heracles and Hermes are no longer little things, and are quite able to stand their ground in a cattle-tussle.

Work continues to take up massive amounts of time, but I am on a degree of countdown.  I intend to quit undergraduate teaching at the end of the year.  That will leave me with a local permanent contract for 2 days a week, plus several casual contracts.  Hopefully that’ll be enough to keep the wolf from the door, and should give me a fighting chance of getting myself together for some market sales of solar-dried crops.  That’s the plan anyway.  Maybe it’ll just end up being an expensive hobby, but I’d like to give it a decent crack nonetheless. 

Sam is still hanging on at home, but is really really close to running away with the army band.  Billy’s still doing kitchen work, and has been independently driving on his Restricted Licence for a few weeks now.  Peter’s working his arse off in the newly set up Bottling Company, but hopefully that’ll settle down as time progresses. 

Welcome Autumn - a truly gorgeous season to enjoy.  As the saying goes: 'Autumn paints in colours that summer has never seen' - and we’re just starting to get a peep of that with some chilly mornings.   We have the huge privilege of living here in the country where nature’s wonders are all around.  By the next blog we’ll be enjoying one of my favourite concepts: psithurism - the sound of the wind in the trees and rustling of leaves.

February 2017

It’s been an unusual kind of summer so far.  The spring winds are persisting and we’ve had numerous blustery nor’westers.  We’ve had some really hot days, but not as consistent as we’ve come to expect for this time of year.  There’s been some rain, always welcome, and a fair number of cloudy days.  I guess we’re still waiting for the real summer to show up. These pukeko may also be a bit confused - we only usually see them when it's wet.  Maybe they were doing a quick recce in advance of a rain dance

.

The tea garden is taking off, and it’s already clear that I’ve planted way too many plants too close together.  Habit of a lifetime alas.  The spearmint and anise hyssop currently look identical.  They are unwisely planted alongside each other, and they are spreading themselves far and wide.  Hopefully they’ll declare themselves when they flower, but I will have to look at separating them into different beds eventually.  One of the liquorice has disappeared (we suspect bunny involvement), and the other 3 look a bit dodgy but are putting out new leaves.  It is lovely to see the dots of tiny herb seedlings grow up into a green haze of happy herbs.  A reasonable harvest is likely to be possible in a couple of weeks.

I’ve been having a ball trying out some dehydration in my Sunflair Solar Oven.  I’ve had enough success to spur on some experimentation, which so far has been pretty much successful.  Culinary herbs are easy – parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.  The abundant plums have found their way into the freezer, and also have successfully dehydrated into small slices of tangy flavour bursts.  I’ve learned the art of ‘plum popping’ – turning plum halves inside out so they dehydrate more efficiently.

I'm in the process of multiplying my herb stock so that there'll be plenty to dehydrate come next spring (and hopefully also this autumn).  I already have more rosemary than you can shake a stick at.  I planted half a dozen bought parsley seedlings before I realised that parsley has been happily self seeding in one of the herb beds.  So too has fennel.  I've dug them up and re-planted them into some potting compost, and it looks like they're all sorting themselves out. They should be plant-able in a couple of weeks and harvest-able not too long after.  Sage and thyme cuttings have been taken and just put in small glasses of water to root. The water needs to be changed every day, and some roots are already on their way - very satisfying indeed.

The new citrus (lemon and orange) seem to be settling in well, and have now been joined by a guava.  Allegedly these make good companion plants for citrus.  They will all be under-planted with some wild strawberry plants that are currently in a shady spot in the flower garden.  I'll transplant them in the Autumn.  Strawberry leaves make nourishing tea, so it'd be good to expand our stock as well as enjoy the tiny, scrumptious wild berries.

I’m keen to increase our dehydration capacity and have been searching the web for ideas.  It’s probably impossible to buy a larger-scale solar dehydrator in NZ right now, so the only option was to build one ourselves.  Mother Earth News (US) supply free plans for their extensively-researched solar dehydrator, so that seemed a good place to start.  Converting into metric and sourcing the materials has been a mission, but we seem to be getting there with the project.  When I say ‘we’, I mean Peter, mostly.  I did the sourcing, the measuring out and the painting, but otherwise Peter has nobly got on with it.  It’s still a work in progress but has been ridiculously exciting so far. Ultimately the capacity will be 11x what I can achieve in the Sunflair, and the drying process should be quicker because there’ll be more airflow.  There are plans to solar dehydrate not only herbs and fruit, but also veges, in the long-term hope of eventually making a few sales at Farmer’s Markets. 

The bees have been busy.  I took off about 8 frames at the end of December (just before the tutin risk date) and need to get back in again to see what they’re up to.  This season’s honey is much reduced in volume (though more may come later), significantly darker than last year’s, and has a very sweet syrupy taste.  I definitely prefer the taste of last season’s honey.  The photo shows both together – last year’s honey has only just started to crystallise.  Other hobbyist beekeepers seem to have the same thing, and commercial beekeepers are reporting less honey volume.

The orchard is a gorgeous and abundant place, despite last month’s storm that took out a whole heap of fruit.  Plums are on tap, and other stone fruit is looking promising, especially the peachcots and black boy peaches.  With the exception of the cider apples, so are the other apple trees, including those espaliered in the vege garden.  Other stone and pip fruit are on their way too.  When they’re ripe they’ll be dehydrated too.  It’ll be great to have dried fruits that can be added to a batch of homemade muesli, as an alternative to raisins and sultanas.

The vege garden is truly a haven of beauty, at least to my eyes.  Pretty much every bed is currently productive and has further production potential.  Potatoes only need digging up, tomatoes are ripening, carrots are fattening, and there are some fabulous cabbages begging to be eaten.  Courgettes are becoming marrows before my very eyes, corn is cobbing, beans are threatening to be has-beans, and pumpkins are taking over the world.  It’s a joyful place to be, and demands very little of my time, other than frequent sprinkling and several associated dark and sleepy trips into the vege garden in my dressing gown and gumboots because I forgot to switch the bloomin sprinkler off again.  Even (dare I say it) Karyn’s bed is tidy and fully planted.  You can tell it’s her bed because everything is labelled.  I generally work on the assumption that eventually I’ll recognise whatever I’ve planted, and maybe even get a pleasant surprise.  It’s a better argument than I can’t be bothered with labelling, but it doesn’t fool Karyn.  She’s pretty much conceded carrot conquering, but is hanging out for parsnip prosperity.  After my ghost-parsnip experience last year, she thinks she’s in with a chance.  I’ll re-negotiate with the rabbits and we’ll see.  Moo ha ha.

Madame Cholet is nurturing a good crop of cucumbers and tomatoes that I’m thinking will have to grow outside next year to free up space for crops that really need the extra protection.  Cucumbers in particular need beating back with a stick every now and then.  The pigs will eat inflated cucumbers of course, but only if there’s nothing else.  Some peppers and chillies are coming through, and the aubergines are flowering.  The ginger is throwing up several new shoots, but the piece de la resistance is the turmeric, which has decided to grow after many months.  I sincerely hope that it isn’t simply a very clever weed and I’m tragically mistaken.  The truth will eventually out, and patience will have to be a virtue here.  I daren’t dig around in case I upset it, but am really hoping I won’t be bitterly disappointed.

The animals are just getting on with living and eating.  There doesn't appear to be any signs of heat in Hera or Athena, so really really hoping that means they're pregnant.  One day they were all mooing loudly, especially Dionysus.  I checked out their water trough and it was empty.  That doesn't quite make me a cow-whisperer like Peter, but I'm glad I investigated.   Hopefully Leggy will do the deed with his ewes, or he may face replacement. The pigs are robust beasts and are still calm and easy going.  We'll definitely go for Wessex Saddlebacks another time.  The chooks have yet to be released for free-ranging, but it won't be long before their damage potential is limited and we'll be happy to let them loose.  

Another month in the life of a small-holder.  Yep, it's still paradise out here.