February 2016

The drought continues, though a recent couple of days of fabulous rain (and some not-so-fabulous wind), has been a blessed relief.  I had got to the point of considering a rain dance.  The moisture might have to last for a while though, as no more rain is on the long term forecast.  The ground is very very dry, and that’s knocked back the pasture growth.  Peter has been out and done some paddock topping of the dead, straggly grass, using the grass cutter attached to the car.   There still seems to be enough greenery underneath to keep the cows and sheep satisfied, though we’re moving them around quite often. 

Last years’ lambs, like their predecessors, were growing huge.  As the boys hadn’t been castrated, we didn’t have the leeway of waiting too long to get them on the menu, as they seemed to be sexually maturing.  The home kill man came and took 3 ram lambs from last year, plus the remaining ram from the year before who’d escaped the chop by accident (our mistake).  That leaves us with the 3 original ewes, last year’s ewe lamb and ‘Leggy’.  Carol and Karyn are having a lamb each, and we’ve sent one to the butchers for ourselves.  Peter’s butchered the last one at home.  Aside from a few choice cuts, he’s made lots of mince that will be made into lots of sausages.  Maggie loves being a butcher’s dog, but even she got full up!

Online lamb sausage recipes seem to be quite thin on the ground.  There are recipes that include rusk, though most suggest that breadcrumbs work as well.  In the past I’ve used breadcrumbs or oatmeal, as I couldn’t get hold of rusk.  Now I’ve discovered that rusk is easy to make – basically a biscuit that is baked and dried and then blitzed.  Rusk absorbs 1.5 times its own volume of liquid, whereas breadcrumbs only absorb their own volume.  As lamb sausages are fattier (at least they are when I make them), hopefully this will work well.  The rusk can be seasoned with herbs and spices which help hold the flavour in the sausage, rather than it leaking out with the fat.

Most of the soft fruit is done, though the blackberries are on a roll and I can still pick a few redcurrants when I trawl through the undergrowth.  Plums are go too, and in huge abundance.  I’ve had to think outside the square (well at least as far as alcohol) to find ways of using them.  Plum Schnapps was an obvious solution, so there’s a jar each of Hawera plums and the unknown variety that was already on the property (possibly Omega).  I came across a recipe for blackcurrant schnapps too, so that’s busy infusing alongside some stunning blackcurrant liqueur that was already made using a ‘River Cottage’ recipe.  Whilst foraging in the orchard, it was a happy discovery that the damsons were also ripe.  There are 3 jars of damson gin now, 2 sweetened with a little sugar, and the other with honey.  I couldn’t find any recipes that included honey at the outset of the process like this, so it’s an experiment.  It’s already looking murky, whereas the sugared ones are a glorious pink/purple and crystal clear.  Here’s hoping not a disaster.  Something tells me there’s going to be rather a lot of fruity liqueurs making their way into the pantry.  It isn’t even sloe or quince season yet.  It puts me in mind of a quote from a home wine-making book: ‘Five gallons are as easy to make as one, and last nearly twice as long.’

The other stone-fruits are maturing nicely.  Apples and pears are nearly there, though they’ve seemed nearly there for ages.  Every now and then I check out a few, but they’re still solid and with white pips, so a little more patience is required.  There are plenty of windfalls too.  The orchard trees have had some damage in the form of branches knocked off by enthusiastic sheep or blown down by the wind – creating a special treat for the cows in addition to the windfalls.  The pasture in there has been partly munched by sheep, and is generally overgrown and raggedy.  Optimistically it won’t be too many years before it comes right, when the trees form a canopy and the pasture growth can be grazed by sheep all year round.  In the meantime it’ll just have to be a case of beauty being in the eyes of the beholder.

The frogs have already produced tadpoles that are now a good inch long.  Peter captured another frog in the same drain at work, this time a juvenile.  It went into the old bath pond (rather than the stock trough pond which the older frogs have opted for) and has managed to survive the last few days.  So far so good.  The ponds are a joy, always a honey pot for wildlife traffic.  Insects are abundant and cicadas are loud.  Peter has put in Paradise fish and White Cloud Mountain Minnows - previously old fish tank favourites.  It’s mostly possible to spot some of them (even by me who’s usually less than observant).  The temperate White Clouds had overwintered in the half barrel-turned-pond in Madame Cholet before it got too hot in there. 

Only one chick made it, and is growing beautifully.  It’s in a run with its mum and Auntie – the other hen that went broody but none of her chicks survived.  We were going to move Auntie into the run with Cornelius and the other 2 hens, but she was skinny and bedraggled from her weeks of fruitless brooding.  There isn’t any animosity between her and the other hen and chick, and we thought it best to keep them together so that they can all be fattened up before being returned to the pecking order.  It seems to be working.  One day we’ll put them all back together, but no hurry for that.

Karyn has been a treasure and helped with some gardening whilst I’ve been incapacitated.  She even helped to tidy up the pumpkin patch – quite a big ask of a pumpkinophobe!  We chopped off multiple rampant tendrils, but are still left with more pumpkins than you can shake a stick at.  Madame Cholet was next on the list, and Karyn heroically hacked down some of the flowering plants that were taking over.  The compost heap has never been so beautiful, and there was hidden treasure in the form of ripe tomatoes and peppers which had previously been obscured by the humongous cosmos and marigolds.

Much of the 24 litres of delectable honey has been bottled.  It’s been put in old jars with their labels painstakingly scrubbed off, then labelled ‘Ti Kouka Raw Honey’.  It makes fantastic gift currency.  What was surplus to the jars was bottled in 1-litre Agee jars (x10 of them).  It can be used for topping up or in baking or mead-making.  It’s such a luxury to have unlimited honey.  It’s added to my foraged breakfast smoothie, sweetening the seasonal fruit, greens, nuts, seeds and home-made kefir.

I’ve managed to weed the paths between the beds in the vege garden, but the weeds are already re-establishing themselves.  I’m working my way through the beds too, but progress has been slow and the weeds are winning.   Among the usual weedy suspects are parsley, fennel, tomato and kale seedlings, springing up everywhere and making the task of weeding more enjoyable.  Where I’ve managed to do some clearing, winter crops have been planted.  Sprouts, celery, spinach and silver beet are in, with peas, cabbage, cauliflower and carrots still waiting for their slot.

Despite the weeds, the vege garden is pretty productive.  Carrots and corn are nearly fat enough to eat.  We’re picking beetroots, beans and courgettes, and a few varieties of brassicas and greens.  Managing to coordinate lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes and peppers is a triumph for me.  The melons didn’t come to anything (again), and though the aubergines are beautiful plants with gorgeous purple flowers, they haven’t fruited.  Must research this as I’ve never successfully grown them.  A few batches of tomato sauce are already in the freezer.  It’s interesting that the tunnel house tomatoes have ripened no sooner than those planted outside.  Maybe that’s more common in the hotter summers.

Whilst I indulge the Good Life here in paradise, it feels reassuringly cut off from the rest of the mad world.  The rise of Donald Trump right now is truly horrifying – why do so many people rank arrogance as a quality?  Thank goodness there are folk like Jake Bailey to restore our faith in humanity.  He’s head boy at a Christchurch school and was recently diagnosed with a very aggressive cancer.  His prize-giving speech went viral:  "Here's the thing, none of us get out of life alive. So be gallant, be great, be gracious and be grateful for the opportunities that you have."  Such wise and beautiful words, which were enhanced by the school principal’s observation that ‘humility is so much more powerful than arrogance’.  I’m deeply deeply privileged to have the opportunity to live this life on the land.  To be surrounded by beauty and abundance.  To love and be loved.  Now – what’s for tea?