One word: WET. There’s been so much rainfall that pretty much everywhere is a great big bog. The one silver lining is that the wetland is absolutely stunning. It’s great to see it so full of water, and fantastic to observe that the native trees (mostly black beech) are in exactly the best place, i.e. along the banks. The crack willows are just randomly growing anywhere. This has not been really obvious before, and confirms (to me at least) that the willows should go. Another 28 native plants plus a few more flaxes went in last weekend. Bailey from Renwick School came to help out this time and we made some great progress on the higher bank. It was too water-logged to plant anywhere else. I’m keeping everything crossed that the plants we put in earlier, lots of which have been completely underwater for some time, will live to tell the tale.
Also water-logged is the orchard. This is particularly bad in the places nearest the tiny stream (barely noticeable in dry weather) which is the conduit for the rain falling on the hill across the road. It cuts across the orchard, and flows down into the wetland. Most of the fruit trees only went in this year, so I really hope that they can tolerate having wet feet for so long. Happily all of them are budding up, so maybe spring is closer than it feels. There are even some huge bumblebees around too. There orchard is now also home to some ‘new’ (mostly ‘acquired’) plants. I’ve planted a kind of low hedge, made up of soft fruit (currants, gooseberries, boysenberries) intermingled with flowers for bee food (lavender, rosemary etc.). There’s plenty of room to continue the hedge, so they’ll soon be joined by raspberries and blueberries, and some native rock daisies. I’ve sheet-mulched around the plants (cardboard and horse manure so far), then I’ll under-plant with mountain strawberries and flowers for beneficial insects. I’m picturing the end result as a gorgeous mass of colour and scent. Probably it’ll be wild and messy and the birds will scoff all the fruit, but it’s still a lovely thought.
We plan to dig the stream bed deeper so it can carry more volume of water, and then plant swamp flaxes and other marginal plants alongside to help hold the banks together. It’s so tempting to think about hiring one of those mini-diggers to do the job. We’d have no shortage of volunteers with that, and we could even dig out a pond in the vege garden whilst we’re at it. The pond will be the next phase of the permaculture vege garden, so I’m pricing up pond liners and wondering how I can bribe boys to help dig it out. Hmmm, perhaps I should seriously look into the digger. There are now 4 keyhole mandala beds, but the weeds are already breaking through from below. It seems that the excessive rain has dissolved the newspaper and card much faster than expected. I’ve made some temporary covers with tarpaulins for now - not pretty but should do the trick. The original vege beds are looking good with their green manure cover. Not too long for them to be dug in and then the season will really begin. It must be time to pore over the seed catalogues!!
The beehive has begun its journey over to the vege garden. Moving it at a metre a day means it will take a few weeks to get there, but should be better protected from the wind and the waterlogging. There’s not a lot of bee activity apparent, though a recent glance inside the hive confirms plenty of bees and plenty of honey to see them through the rest of winter. It’s quite a relief after the worry of whether the colony was even viable.
The turkeys are no more and the chooks are contained in a hen run/house. We pulled the original hen house from behind the hay shed up to its new home just beyond the sleep-out. It’s on skids and was quite an exciting moment to watch it being dragged along by the car. Going down-hill was fine and there was a collective sigh of relief as it made it up the other side. We put up a wire fence so they now have their own pad. That the chooks are actually contained is more the hope than the reality. One particularly persistent Mrs M can still get out, and sometimes she lures another Mrs M along too. We’ve clipped their wings, but there’s a chance that they may be getting out under the fence, rather than flying over it. The rain has made the ground so boggy that it’s hard to tell, and harder to secure. Still, there’s considerably less poo around the house, which was getting to be much less tolerable with all the rain. I’m looking forward to a big tidy up of all the poultry damage around the house and garden once the weather dries out.
The cattle and sheep seem fine despite the lousy weather. The cows escaped from the property one night to go partying on the neighbouring forestry land. Some idiot left the gate open - it must have been me but I’m not admitting that too loudly. Luckily it was the morning after Sam’s birthday sleepover (he bought the bow and arrows with his birthday money) and the extra boys made for an easy round-up. They’re farm-boys so it was pretty much a busman’s holiday for them. The returning cattle had that arrogantly guilty look about them, a kind of teenage ‘whatever’.
Thankfully the sheep didn’t seize the opportunity to escape too. Perhaps it was a cattle-only party. They’d have been much harder to drive back as they’re still pretty nervy and give us a wide berth. Lambing has begun in earnest across the country, but we’re only expecting the pitter-patter of tiny hooves in early November. Rambo will return to his real home anytime soon, so here’s hoping he’s done the deed. We really have no idea so will just have to wait and see.
Our dry firewood supply is long gone, so we’re in the ironic position of firewood, firewood everywhere but not a log to burn. We have plenty but it’s all wet - both unseasoned and rain-wet. The fire isn’t working that well any more either, so we’re having some chilly times. There’s no point getting it fixed because the good news is that the wood-burner stove is ordered, and we’re just awaiting the consent formalities. And we are getting some wood stockpiles going, so next year should be sorted. It looks like we’ll just have to sit this one out as there’s no dry firewood available anywhere to buy. The woodsman who’s coming to cut down the pines has none spare and his business has been significantly delayed by the rain. He can’t move machinery around in a bog - we may be waiting a while.
I’m still dreaming of a stunning wetland, with a small jetty (and deckchair) perhaps. Of spending more time at home, tending the animals, fruit and veges. Of solar hot water and wind power, and perhaps a rainwater collection and waste water system. Maybe even turning the boys into hippy land-lovers with a penchant for permaculture. Probably I’ll never get there, but at least I’m on the road and enjoying the journey.
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