Late summer harvest is in full swing, its processing hampered as always by lack of time and those dastardly weather gods. It's 30 degrees today, far too hot to spend more than a few minutes at a time outside. The nights are cooler, so at least the day's heat takes a while to peak. We have had some cooler days too, and even some rain this month, so can't really complain. Watering has to happen in the mornings and evenings when possible, and I can't help but come to the same conclusion as always, that the weeds protect the soil, and therefore the crops, from the temperature extremes. Go you weeds!! (no, I'm only pretending I mean that dammit). Some progress has been made on weeding and it kinda feels manageable most of the time, until I venture into a zone that has been ignored for a while. Then the sheer volume of work strikes, along with that familiar sense of being overwhelmed. It's at these moments that I try to convince myself of the privileges and joys of living on the land. How lucky am I that I can spend time outside, that I can grow my own food and firewood, that I can wake up to beauty every day, and that I have no neighbours?
Peter has just started digging up his (quite impressive) spuds, around big sessions of stocking up the firewood. He's been taking down some trees on the property, including willows that look to be beyond our boundary, but which are in fact are still on our land albeit on the other side of the fence. He's planning to fill up the new shed completely, and then we can work out how much firewood we get through over winter. We've been pretty ad hoc about this up to now, so it'd be good to know an approximate volume. The dead possum on the balcony was shot by Peter in the middle of the night. We were being woken for several nights by the loud activities of possums just outside our bedroom window. This was the 3rd possum he shot, and the only one to die on the spot and not run away like they usually do. I took this photo the morning after, and when I sent it to Peter saying he'd left something behind, he accused me of putting it into the recovery position and pointed out that wouldn't work!
The calves are doing great, and are mostly an utter pleasure. When they break into the vege garden, twice, then they are much less so. They found their way through an unlocked gate one fine day, and had a ball munching the peas. They were swiftly evicted, but the next time the opportunity arose, they pushed hard and broke in through the gate. This time they weren't spotted immediately, and had an even better ball working their way through the vege beds, occasionally depositing some compost on the paths. Grrr. The sheep and lambs have remained angelic, this month at least. The girls even asked to be let into the orchard one day, and then out the next. We daren't leave the gate open in case the cattle decide there are rich pickings worthy of breaking in and entry. Both lambs - Saul and Holly - are robust little critters that are growing rapidly. We might replace our genetic stock with a new ram and bid a fond farewell to the current boys. When we get a round tuit.
Vegetables are magnificent and abundant. I have more jars of pickled beetroot than you can shake a stick at, and still there are more in the garden. A big bean pick is the next priority when it cools down. Saucing tomatoes are blushing and some are huge. They are a mix of varieties that came from a pack of seeds from Koanga Gardens - a company that sells heirloom seeds, gifted to me by my beekeeper friend, Jo. There are a million peppers in Madame Cholet, and those delicate pink flowers in the photo are a promising start to the aubergine crop. There are marrows for Africa, most of them gifted to Polly, our neighbour's pig who happily adores them. The broccoli is about done, but there are still heaps of cabbage, kale and caulis. Lettuces, onions, leeks and cucumbers are ready too.
Aztec corn planted in the horse arena raised bed is clearly well out of its comfort zone. It's barely reached my knee height. The extra seedlings that Karyn germinated and I couldn't bear to part with, were planted in one of the fallowing beds and are magnificent specimens, standing proudly taller than me. Such a relief that we won't be without Aztec corn this year, and that my saved seeds can continue to create another generation. A clear demonstration that my 'can't-bear-to-part-with-anything-growing' tendency does occasionally play out beautifully. Hopefully I'll feel the same when the gourd crop, that is taking over the world, eventually matures. I've trimmed some of the ends of the vigorous creepers in the hope that they'll focus on growing their currently tiny fruits. There are too many to count, and it would be gutting to lose them to a rogue frost one night. It might also be a bit gutting to have to deal with 99 mature gourds, but I'll cross that bridge if it arises.
On the fruit front, I'm eagerly awaiting the ripening of the rock melons, of which there are several, and the first of the limes. The plums are now done, heaps in the freezer waiting to be bundled into smoothie packs. There were some greengages, but nowhere near enough. That's 2 consecutive years of poor cropping, so keeping fingers crossed for Greengage 2022.
Pears are coming on tap, and it turns out that dehydrated nashi pears are stunning. I'm having a bash at Red Bartlett pears in Solly today, and they're joining the elephant garlic that was sliced and put in the dehydrator yesterday. The pear crop is phenomenal this year, so some will also be frozen, and the bulk gifted. Apples and peaches aren't quite ready, but it doesn't look like we'll be suffering from a shortage of either.
Alcohol stocks are being sustained. Rhubarb gin is bottled, and elsewhere damsons are soaking in 3 litres of gin. In the demi-johns is 10 litres of finest peapod wine. Yes, I finally did get round to that. It smells absolutely heavenly. Earthy rather than specifically pea-like. There are heaps of lees already, so I'm guessing it'll take a long time to clear. The online reviews for the final concoction are mixed, with some claiming it's fabulous and others much less complimentary. No doubt it'll be like most of my wines - the first glass a bit iffy, but by the end of the bottle, undoubtedly the classiest wine ever.
The bees are very busy indeed, and I'm planning a venture into all 4 hives this weekend to see what spare honey they have. The top bar hive looks to be going strong too, even one of the vines is trying to gain access. I've solar filtered Jo's wax using the usual technique, and have added to my wax stash with another 10kgs bought from Putake. Half has been sold on to Shona, and the remaining chunk will be made use of in any of the silicon candle moulds that have all arrived. Just need to sort out a 'Candle-making and Gin Day' and invite a few friends round.
Indoors, the tatty old stair and upstairs carpet has been replaced. Not only does it look great, it feels fantastic underfoot. So bouncy and so quiet. Most of the downstairs painting is complete, and the final piece of kitchen furniture has arrived. We have a March date for the downstairs flooring, so will have to put aside some considerable time to clear everything out. Coincidentally, Billy's work contract finishes at the end of the week before, so at least he'll be able to sort out Maggie while the contractor is here.
