September 2012



Two words this month - WET WET.  Any more and we're in danger of turning into a band, and water won't be the only thing that's all around us!!  Even still some frosts.  But in between, some serious signs of spring.   Buds a-bursting and blossom a-plenty.   One of those endearing bumble bees stung me when I leaned on it by accident whilst weeding.  My finger swelled so much I couldn’t even pick my own nose.

The warmer weather was bound to come as soon as our woodstove was fitted - hurray, here at last.  It has come in handy for those occasional frosty mornings (even with our not-very-dry firewood), but probably won’t be fully in action until autumn.  In the meantime it’s lovely to look at and hot baths are seriously back (very pommy).  Here's the very first attempt at using the oven: a pear tart served with freshly-made custard (using our own eggs) - not a bad start.

Whilst I’ve been getting to grips with the oven, Billy and his friend Liam had a much better way of coping with the rain.  This giant puddle formed quickly during a heavy downpour, but disappeared the next day.

The vege garden is slowly taking shape.  Very slowly really.  The spring winds are blowing the tarpaulins off the mandala beds, and weeds are coming through.  And the grass is growing fast, as it is in the garden.  With more rain forecast tomorrow (Saturday) it’s looking like yet another week will pass before the mower emerges.   I’ve chopped down the green manure, and am now in the process of roughly digging it in.  Despite the rain, the soil isn’t waterlogged, and the structure is lovely and crumbly, like chocolate cake.  Mmmm.   The only vegetable growing right now is a purple-sprouting broccoli.  - just the one plant.  For months there were 10 plants and I believed them to be non-sprouting purple-sprouting broccoli.  Utterly disappointed, one-by-one I fed them to the grateful cattle.   I’ve definitely learned my lesson here.   The one plant is only there because I hadn’t got round to digging it up.  It’s absolutely smothered in glorious purple sprouts - my all -time favourite veg.

 
The cattle and sheep are enjoying the spring pasture growth, and we’d been moving them around the property in the hope of synchronising their pasture use with the pine tree removal.  The woodmen came today, so we’re now several pine trees down.  The plan is to get them all felled and chopped within a fortnight, then stacked in the horse arena (at last it’s come in handy!).  They’ll be taken away as they sell, so may be around for a while.  We were thinking we may have to wait until late autumn to plant up natives along the river, but I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.  I’ll try to stick to one or two clumps where there is most erosion along the river bank, and hope that I can get an efficient enough irrigation-thing going to keep them alive over summer. 

Rambo’s owners have decided to add some different genes to their flock, so he’s staying on, at least for another season.  He’s begun to shed his wool, so hopefully the ewes will follow suit soon.   We’re still not entirely sure they’re pregnant, but we are totally optimistic.  Our neighbours are happy to help out if they get into any difficulties with lambing.

Rabbits have also moved onto the, er, menu.  Many moons ago, Peter’s dad used to breed rabbits for meat.  He says he’s not fazed by the whole processing business of fluffy bunnies.  Can’t say that I share that.  However, they make good lawn-mowers and there’s plenty of herby pasture in the orchard.  We’re thinking of converting a couple of the ‘mobile’ chicken runs into rabbit runs.  Apparently ‘New Zealand White’ rabbits are the best meat-rabbits.  We just need to locate a source, which is not as easy as their name suggests it might be. 

Progress on the wetland is still stalled, though Bailey came round for another session and we planted another 28 plants on the high slope, plus a few flaxes which were lurking around the driveway.  We were gifted several clumps of flax, and are getting around to planting them.  Thankfully they are very hardy and have tolerated much neglect.  The removal of zillions of willow branches from the wetland is becoming more urgent.  They’re all sprouting shoots, even the pieces which are stacked in our firewood piles.  Talk about a resilient weed.  It is quite high on our priority list to shift them, but not until they’re high enough above the water level to be reached.

The days are stretching out - there’s even occasionally a bit of time after work to potter around outside.  The seed potatoes are chitting away under our bed, and seed packets are starting to arrive.  I’ve gathered the ingredients and created seed-raising compost - compost, river sand, coir and vermiculite.  All good to go, and I’m hoping to get some seeds sown at the weekend.  The wild ducks are quacking, the birds are singing and the sand-flies are biting.  The boys are growing too, and hatching plans for their own lives.  Lucas is considering study options for next year, and Sam’s musical interests are taking over our lives.  We’re looking into a summer break in Northland.  We have relatives up there (my dad’s cousin Shena and her family) who we’d love to meet and spend time with. 

That Lotto win’s still eluding me, so in the meantime, on with work it is.  Come on you sunshine….

August 2012

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.

July 2012

Greetings from a very wintry Onamalutu.  Another significant frost this morning, one of many so far this year.  It’s much better than the alternative of rain, which we’ve also had plenty of.   Mostly these cold nights give way to stunning sunny days, so I guess are really quite welcome.  It’s a glorious sight to watch the sun’s rays break out over the hills and make the frost disappear.

In the last couple of weeks we’ve felt 3 earthquakes.  Two were closer to the North Island, but the one last night was centred in Blenheim - actually near Okaramio which is just over the hill.  We do have an emergency kit, though I’m planning to check it out today and make sure it’s adequate.  Our caravan “Lazy Mazy’ was supposed to be our emergency shelter, but work on her has been stalled since we moved here.  She’s sheltered and water-tight at least, but not really happily habitable yet.

On the animal front, things have been relatively quiet.  I miss the pigs, their happy frolicking and grunting and enjoying a scratch.   I don’t miss the twice daily mission to feed them though, and that sense that they always wanted more to eat.  The cattle and sheep are so much more independent and peaceful.  We’ve moved them around pastures and are lucky enough to still have some remaining pasture, which they all prefer to hay.  The chooks are still conveniently laying in the former wood-box outside the front door.  The 3 turkey girls still potter about and poo everywhere, and don’t seem to miss the infamous turkey tom (who weighed 5.2kg and fed us for a few days).

Our free time has been spent outside on the property.  The wetland is in the process (I hope) of transformation.  The power company came and took down the huge willow which was threatening the cables.  They left a huge mound of branches and twigs and a giant log which will probably have to become a feature.  Its removal has certainly changed the view. 

130 native trees and shrubs, plus numerous cabbage trees and flax have now been planted with the help of Greg and Matthew from Renwick School - great work thanks boys.   They've also helped out with clearing away some of the branches, twigs and debris.  You can really see the difference this tidy up has made.  Lots more to do, but very motivating to see what progress can be made in a couple of days.  Those trees in the background of the picture are the crack willows (in winter dress) - all of which need to come out.  It’s a very exciting project, though one of those which seems turns up more and more projects as we work on it.  There's an obvious place for a path going around the back.  Wonder how long it'll take to get around to that?

T
he vege garden is also being transformed.  So far there are 3 keyhole mandala beds, two of which are pretty much complete.  They were staked out then sheet mulched, beginning with thick wet newspaper and cardboard, seaweed (gathered from Rarangi beach) and horse manure, and finally topped with some bought garden compost.  Billy's been helping me - perhaps he's dreaming of all the veges we'll get this summer?  Yeah right.  Hopefully that’s the last time I have to buy compost for this garden.  I do have some of my own but not in enough volume for setting up.  I really should have anticipated that the chooks would find their way in and scratch them up.  Some kind of plan is definitely needed and quick - every day I have to rake them back together again

The paths are being made from the horse arena gravel, which is working well.  Ultimately all the grass will go as all the whole area will be sheet-mulched.  I'm thinking of using the old animal feed bags which came with the horse poo, and we have plenty on the property too.  I'll cut them open and use them as weed mat, then cover with more gravel.  I’m paying the boys hard cash per wheel-barrow load to scrape up the gravel and gather flat river rocks to edge the ‘keyhole’ paths.  They want money because we’re going to Hanmer Springs for the weekend, which not only has a fabulous hot pool complex, but also the best sweet shop (the Lollipot).  Suffice to say a favourite destination for us.

Lucas is proceeding with his plans to study Design at Christchurch Polytechnic next year.  He’s visited the campus and even miraculously seems to be on track with his school work.  Sam has just returned from Timaru where he was attending the National Brass Band Contest.  The band was rehearsing lots in the build-up, so he’s pretty tired.  Luckily it’s not a problem for him to sleep in until the early afternoon.  The photos show Lucas in his suit for the ‘Formal’, and with Sam in his band suit.  I’ve added them to the blog in response to a request from mum for more family photos - there you go Grandma!!

       

June 2012

Winter’s well and truly here - many frosty mornings and even once some snow.  A neighbour tells us snow hasn’t settled here for 10 years.  If you have brilliant eyesight, in the photo above you’ll see 2 pukekos by the lake that formed after heavy rain.  Very exciting - it’s the first time we’ve seen them here. 

The house keeps toasty warm as long as the fire's lit.  I was almost hoping it'd be a crap fire so I could really justify that wood-stove.  I'm having to work on a bit more justification, but I think I'm nearly there.

Our cows arrived safely and have settled well, inseparable now from Butch and Woody.  And what’s really nice this time is that these ones are unlikely to end up in the freezer.   Aphrodite* and Persephone** are 10 months old, a bit older than the steers but not that you’d know it – they’re way more petite.  Billy remarked that “they must be girls because they’ve lied about their age!” They’re Galloway cows (aka Teddy Bear cows) so not  Greek Goddess-like at all.  Maybe they'll grow into thier names.    They should be the right age for insemination at Christmas, so optimistically we’ll have Speckled Park X calves around September 2013.  At least that’s the plan.

The sheep have also settled and have now been named.  There’s a rugby theme to their names, even though they’re female (at least we hope so!).  There’s ‘Nonu’ (Ma’a Nonu), ‘Israel’ (Dagg….think about it), ‘Tate’ (for England player Matthew Tate) and finally ‘Fitzpatrick‘ (Sean).  You really didn’t want to know eh?  Billy and Peter reckon they know who’s who – but I can’t tell them apart.  Hope that doesn’t count as ‘sheepism’.  Anyway, they’ve done a fine job of mowing the orchard – you can even see where the new fruit trees have been planted (and now staked).  We’ll move them to another paddock at the weekend for a change of scenery and pasture.

Fighting between the 2 turkey toms (and excess turkey poop around the house) led to a reduction in their numbers.  One male and one female were processed, leaving 3 females and a tom.  Since becoming leader of his pack, this turkey tom has turned his attention and aggression to his next rival – me.  Apparently it’s not unusual for turkeys to attempt to be dominant like this, but frankly it’s a pain in the arse.  He displays constantly and stalks me, snapping at the back of my legs.  He stamps and makes angry wheezy sounds, and tries to follow me into the house.  When I open the curtains…..he’s there, like a scene from a horror movie, waiting to torment me.  Sometimes it’s quite entertaining, mostly it’s infuriating and a bit of a concern that he might go for someone else.  When he really gets on my nerves I find myself childishly gesticulating a cut throat and declaring: “into the pot you turkey”.  To think, I used to be a vegetarian.

The chooks, on the other hand, are being delightful.  5 eggs most days thank you very much. Several of these are double-yolkers, as you often get with young birds, and there was even a triple-yolker (hope you enjoyed it Karyn!).  They started to lay them in our firewood box just outside the front door.  At first we tried to persuade them to return to their nest boxes in the hen house, then we realised that being able to pick up clean eggs from by the front door is a truly fantastic concept.  Peter took the wood out and replaced it with hay, and we created a second ‘nest’ – a hay-lined cardboard box on the other side of the firewood box.  Voila!! 

Not long now for Smoko and Supper, who now look absolutely huge.  Interestingly they've begun to fight with each other, which didn't happen when there was 4 of them.  They mostly come to blows over food, taking it in turns to be push the other away.  We haven't cleaned out the pig house in the whole time we've had the pigs - it hasn't been necessary as it's remained squeaky clean.  All we've done is added a few extra haybales, mainly for warmth.  We've decided to see how long the meat from 3 pigs last us before deciding when to get more piglets.  I've enjoyed them, but they are quite time-consuming in terms of feeding - I'm looking forward to a break.

There’s no real change in the wetland in the last month, except for some clearing up of willow branches and 130 native plants ordered.  The council has agreed to cut down the tallest willow which could bring down the power lines if it fell the wrong way - Murray didn’t want to go ahead for that reason.  It’ll take 3 months before it gets to the top of their list, but won’t stop us being able to begin planting.  I’ve earmarked the 2 week July holidays to get on with planting, and am hoping to have some volunteers to help out.  I’m also hoping that we’ll make some progress with clearing more of the rampant willows before planting begins.  There’s been quite a lot of rainfall and the water level is the highest it’s been.  Hopefully it’ll be high more often once the willows stop sucking it out. 

The vege plot is also unchanged, though the green manure is growing well, and I’ve tentatively drawn out some plans for mandala beds in the new fenced-off area (and eventually to replace the existing oblong beds).  It’s the first draft so very likely to change several times before I settle on something.  I’ve included a pergola in the middle next to a small pond.  Not a priority of course, but knowing me it’ll probably be one of the first things that goes in.  After all where else am I going to sit and drink my beer/sloe gin/vanilla vodka?

My Go-organics course has come to an end (once I’ve finished the assignments) which I’m quite sad about.  We had a great group and our fabulous tutor, Chris, is totally motivating and inspiring.  I only wish I had a fraction of her knowledge and skills.  She’s mentioned the possibility of a further course in propagation which we’d all be up for.  And being able to propagate natives would bring down the costs of re-vegetating the property.  We had our final session / social right here, and it was great to show off the place and get everyone’s ideas.  The top tip came from Chris for suggesting we use the gravelly grit from the horse arena for paths in the new vege garden.  Genius.  What the hell else are we going to do with it?

TIme to sign off now and go and do something useful.  Firewood stacking, fencing, sorting out willow branches, housework (yeah right) etc.  It's BIlly's 12th birthday tomorrow so we're out bowling and having a sleepover tonight.  One more year then they'll all be teenagers.  No stop, I'm not even going there.  In the meantime it's a stunning sunny winter's day, after a serious frost  again this morning.  Sigh.....life's sweet.




*Aphrodite: Greek Goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation.  She was born when Cronus cut off Uranus' genitals and threw them into the sea, and from the sea foam (aphros) arose Aphrodite. Her Roman equivalent is the goddess Venus.
**Persephone: Queen of the underworld.  She's the daughter of Zeus and the harvest-goddess Demeter.  Also known as Kore (maiden / vegetation goddess)

May 2012

As I’m flicking through my photos for May’s blog, it’s apparent that winter has seriously arrived since April’s blog.   We’ve already had some stonking frosts, and the trees in the photos are now leaf-free.   We’ve also reduced our cattle number by 3 and our pigs by 2.  Only Butch and Woody, and Smoko and Supper are not in the freezer.  

Yesterday day we picked up 4 Wiltshire lamb ewes from a farm near Ward (18kms down a windy unsealed track to the farm – quite a drive), and today we took temporary possession of a ram.  He’s on loan from a friend and I’d say he’s quite a catch.  We’ve nicknamed him ‘Rambo’ and the girls were already interested as soon as he arrived.  We’re a bit worried they’re too young, but that all depends on whose advice you take.  If their hussy-like behaviour is anything to go by, we should have lambs by the end of the year.

Peter’s ordered 2 young Galloway cows.  He wants to breed ‘Speckled Park’ cattle which are a new and therefore very expensive breed.  He’s learned that they were developed from Galloways, so hopes to set up a breeding programme and eventually end up with what would be classed as pure Speckled Park.  You can buy Speckled Park semen straws, and he believes that, as a midwife, I should be able to perform the artificial insemination.  Just a case of long plastic gauntlets and cervix location apparently (yeah right).   Having cows also raises the possibility of milking at some future stage.  Then I’ll definitely have to give up work.  Here's Peter constructing a small shelter for any animals that need a cosy home.

The veg garden is enjoying its green manure, and my happiness was complete when my new and carefully constructed compost heap began to steam one chilly morning.  Peter’s extended the fencing of the veg area so I can create some new beds.   The dividing fence is still up, so there was somewhere contained and close to the house for the sheep.  Once the sheep settle I’ll be able to get started.  I’m feeling thoroughly inspired by the Permaculture course I’ve just completed as part of my Go-Organics evening class – so it’ll be a mandala system (circular beds) with wood chip paths. 

The wetland is looking quite bare now – partly because it’s winter and partly because Peter’s mate Murray (ex-logger) has been round and chopped some of the whopper crack willows down.  We’ve kind of abandoned the drilling-holes-and-inserting-Round-Up approach in favour of the lop-them-all-down method.  We’re planning to do the Round-Up thing when new growth comes up from the stumps, in the hope that we won’t need half as much Round-Up.  There is already a mountain of twigs, branches and trunks to be sorted.  We’ll use what we can for firewood, some of the straighter logs for building stuff, and hope to hire a big wood-chipper for the rest.  That should provide enough woodchips for the veg garden paths.  Just like that.  Another 5 minute job then. 

Bob’s discovered his ability to cock-a-doodle-doo very loudly at sunrise, and the chickens have finally started laying.  Quite amazing really, since it’s winter and I’d assumed they would wait until after the shortest day next month.  What’s also amazing is that they shunned their own nesting boxes - lovingly-prepared and lined with soft wood-shavings.  Instead they found their way into the bathroom in the garage - used by the teenagers – and laid the first egg there.  They haven’t been back since, and I’d like to think that they were pretty shocked by the level of hygiene of the place, and sought superior accommodation. 

The turkeys are becoming much braver, and wander around by the house where there’s a chance they can pinch food from the chooks or the pigs.  They all roost together on the gate, which is quite a sight when the car headlights illuminate them.  They produce large volumes of poop, and gobble loudly whenever there’s a noise.  That means every time a vehicle passes, every time we open the box (creaky door) where the stock-food is contained, and every time we gobble at them.  They (usually the females) also scrap with the chooks.  Bob usually has the upper feather in any dispute, but not always.  Quite entertaining at times, and frustrating at others.  We’ve pretty much decided that the turkeys will end up in the freezer soon too, and we’ll probably not continue keeping them unless we get round to building a very large run which contains them.  I’m hoping that ducks will be less trouble and produce fewer poops (what do you mean - ‘yeah right’?).

The soldier-pines are still there, but probably not for long.  The property will be really bare once they’ve gone, and I’m itching to plant more trees.  I’ve added a few fruit trees to the orchard, which is really filling up now.   The inedible remains of Breakfast and Dinner are buried under them.  I have managed to eat some of our pork, but it wasn’t an enjoyable experience.   Somehow it’s easier to distance the origin of beef from my mind, but not the pork.  Probably it’s because I spent a lot of time feeding the pigs.  Anyway, I’m the only one on the house who dwells on it; everyone else just eats up and enjoys.

Roll on the frosty nights and sunny blue-sky days, and the endless days of leaping onto an inflated tractor tyre as it's being pulled by a go-kart.  Of course I've had a go too, and have to admit it was pretty darn cool.  The boys reckon they were kind to their old ma and didn't go fast enough to throw me off.  Or maybe I clung on too well?

Fingers crossed the sheep are still here in the morning...

April 2012

Hard to believe that I'm doing April's blog on April 7th.  It's a sure sign of acute task-avoidance behaviour.  I really don't know just exactly when I'm going to get round to completing that assignment from my diploma.  I just totally know that doing my blog has to be a priority.

Life on the farm contines to keep us happily busy.  The pigs are still getting bigger, enjoying yet more windfall apples as well as other autumnal excess crops.  Many times I muse over the possible reasons why they have not yet attempted to escape.  Their enclosure has no barbed wire or electric fence - we'd planned to add those as required, and so far there hasn't been a snort of wanderlust.  Is it because they know they're onto a good thing on the food front?  Is it because they can root around, play in the mud and be entertained by the chickens?  Or is it that they're waiting until I get really, really smug, then they're going to make a run for it?  I worry that maybe they are over-fed, then I worry that we'll run out of feed for them.  Clearly I'm not really sure what to be worried about.  Maybe I'll just try to stop worrying.

The turkeys are one (male) down.  Since we had no idea how much they'd weigh, it seemed like a good idea to, er, 'process' one.  When I say 'we', obviously I mean Peter.  He did the deed, then  we had the inaugural momentous occasion of eating meat from an animal we'd raised to eat.  That turkey was 3.5kg and provided 3 meals-worth of meat for us all.  I definitely had mixed feelings about going ahead and eating it.  The men of the family had no such qualms.

The wetland has had some attention and is now a few willows short.  And we have several large piles of firewood so we'll keep toasty over winter.  We've sold the pine trees which border the boundary of the property to a local man who sells firewood.  He plans to come and take them all down in June, and we're going to ask him if he could also chop down the really big willows in the wetland.  Hopefully he'll have a gargantuan chainsaw to do the job.  I've priced up and made a few tentative plans for re-planting in natives, and hope to get on with this fairly soon.  I'll start once the wetland is fenced (staked out and some posts dug in today), optimistically with a few helpers from Renwick School doing a community conservation project.  Nothing wrong with a bit of child-labour in the interests of saving the planet eh? 
The next project in my head is how best to replace the pines - I'm thinking woodlots, fruit and nut trees, trees for birds and bees, trees for cattle and more natives.  Happy thoughts....

This photo of the veg patch was taken from the balcony.  It shows some of the pines in the background which will soon be no more.  We've also staked out the fencing for the veg-extension area to the left of the current patch.  This will double the size of the veg area (meaning we'll be able to grow even more spuds, some maize and grains), and will also provide a small fenced paddock close to the house in which we can accommodate any animal who needs to be separated - sick or giving birth or too randy.   I have desires for ducks in among the veges somewhere - they are seriously, seriously cute, and apparently duck eggs make great cakes. 

Talking of eggs, the hens are not yet laying.  Though they are adorable of course.  Bob is honing his early-morning crowing skills, but has yet to penetrate the teenagers' sub-consciousness on a school morning.  The chooks like to gather round when anyone appears, particularly if they have a bucket-in-hand.  They are especially partial to the sprouted grains that we feed to the pigs.

And still talking of eggs, for Easter this year, we had a go at making our own eggs.  The marshmallow bit worked really well:

But the chocolate coating was a bit hurried, so in the end they looked pretty dodgy but tasted great.  We used this recipe from 'nz girl'.

We're still cropping reasonably well, though it's pretty much only pumpkins, carrots and tomatoes left.  I've blanched and frozen several bags of leeks and beetroot (phenomenal crop which is also feeding the cattle and pigs).  The potatoes are all dug up, and most of the ground is nearly ready for its green manure crop.  There'll be just one bed of brassicas remaining over winter, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that that purple sprouting broccoli (my very favourite veg) will actually sprout.  Lots of leaves so far, but no heads yet. 

The spuds include the purple Maori potato which has been delicious.  And since they hold their colour when cooked, we can make purple chips and purple mash.

Beyond the farm, I'm in the process of resurrecting my 'biker-chick' image (Peter has just queried that I actually ever had one - whatever...). I rode to Reefton with a group called 'Babes-on-Bikes'. They meet twice a year, travelling from all over the South Island to a pre-selected location, and like to party. I couldn't measure up to the Harley/Ducati riders - pootling along on my 250cc bike wearing bright yellow PVC trousers, but they took me under their wings nevertheless. Much appreciated, and yes, I think one day I'll be back.



The grape harvest (vintage) is beginning in earnest, though is much later (by about 3 weeks) than previous years as a result of a lousy summer.  Peter will begin his long hours on Monday (12 hours a day, seven days a week) so we won't be seeing much of him.  And probably not much extra will be done on the farm, though I will be able to indulge my planning - always a bit scary.  Sheep have now moved into the research phase - probably Wiltshires or Dorpers as they shed their wool.  Peter won't be home in daylight hours for a few weeks, so perhaps I should re-visit the donkey concept....

Sweet dreams.





March 2012

7 turkeys gobbling

6 chickens clucking

5 cattle mooing

4 piglets  troughing

3 boys a-playing

2 parents nagging

And a lovely dog.

There’s a song in there somewhere.  And a mental note to stop acquiring more animals. 

We couldn’t resist checking out 2 Friesian X Texan Longhorn calves.  6 months old, recently weaned, with beautiful markings.   They’d been raised by their mum until the week before.  I’d decided that our next cattle would have spent their calf-hood with their mum rather than the (albeit cheaper) week-old boy calves which are the unwanted by-product of the dairy industry.  I’d read it’s really distressing for both mother and newborn to separate them at this stage.   Herein lies the dilemma – how much am I applying human values to cattle?   Or am I just subconsciously supporting breastfeeding for cows?   I can offer them a happy life even if they have to leave their mothers – or can I?  What do I know about cattle-care anyway??   

Blah blah blah.  

So along came Woody and Butch.   We were advised to put them in with the other cattle straight away.   ‘Strangely’ hassled them, so Woody jumped the gate and 2 fences to join our neighbour’s herd across the river for most of the day.  Butch kept calling him back, and eventually Woody was duly retrieved by Peter and the boys.  Since then he’s managed to stay on the property and seems to consider himself at home with the others.   It’s such a pleasure to see them all calmly munching and milling around the paddocks.   With a lesson learned in herd-mentality.

The other new residents are the 5 Rhode Island Red hens.  They’re accompanied by Robert the Rooster (aka ‘Bob’).   They seem quite contented in their new accommodation, and will be released to free-range in a few days once they’re familiar with ‘home’.    They’re all about 12 weeks old, so we’re not expecting eggs for a couple of months, or maybe longer as the shorter winter days are soon on their way.   Bob’s particularly attractive (for poultry) and seems to be proudly in charge of his harem.  Rumour has it that rooster ‘Rhodies’ can be quite aggressive.  The advice is to act submissive if he tries to assert himself above you.  If you retaliate, he’ll up the stakes and get more aggressive.  Whereas if he believes he’s top of the pecking order,  you won’t be a threat to his ‘girls’.  I have mixed feelings regarding chicken psychology in general and rooster obedience in particular, but maybe it’s worth a try.   Just exactly how are you submissive to a rooster??

Meanwhile the pigs grow and grow and grow and grow.  Might be because they eat a lot.   They have warm porridge and manufactured pig nuts in the morning, and sprouted grains and scraps/fruit later in the day.   And they have turned over most of the ground so have added roots, bugs and a fair measure of mud to their diets.  They are endlessly entertaining, though it’s becoming more of a mission to get inside the pen.  They’re so keen to eat they knock whatever you’re carrying – soon no doubt that will include knocking me over too.  I have to be one step ahead of them and plan distractions.  I end up covered in mud every time. 

I have a 5 bucket system going on for the grain-sprouting.  I use a mix of barley, oats, wheat, maize and peas.  On day 1 they are soaked in water with a pinch of salt for 12 hours.  Thereafter they are drained and then rinsed twice a day.  By day 3 the sprouts are coming through, and at day 5 they’re a tangled mass of roots and shoots.  I’ve read that this way they are more nutritious and easier to digest.   And the pigs love them. 

The turkeys have definitely declared themselves as 3 boys and 4 girls.  The boys must be reaching puberty because they’ve started strutting around, feathers fluffed, gobbling loudly and picking fights with each other.   We’re not sure whether it’s wise to keep 3 males (toms).  We would like to hear the pitter-patter of tiny turkey feet at some stage, so maybe a decision has to be made soon-ish.   Hmmm, I’ll work on that one.

The worms are amazingly still there and more plentiful.  They may be rewarded for staying alive against the odds with new, improved premises.  It seems, happily, that they enjoy a combination of overfeeding followed by neglect.  Better not gloat too soon though – winter’s on its way.  The bees are still buzzing and there’s honey, but alas no brood.  Maybe something happened to the queen?  Apparently it’s not a good time of year to re-queen, so I’m waiting to see what happens.  Optimistically a new queen will appear, and pessimistically I’ll lose this colony and have to get another in spring.  I’m not sure what I can learn from it though, as it’s a bit of mystery.

The veg garden is still pretty much over-run with weeds, though it remains productive.  It’s feeding us with carrots, onions, tomatoes, leeks and some greens.  And it’s feeding the animals – corn, marrow, pumpkin, gourd and greens-going-to seed.   I put the veg in a boil-up for the pigs, adding windfall apples.  Looks disgusting, but apparently tastes great.  I just chuck the greens over the fence for the cows – they lurk nearby, gazing with their big, brown eyes, when I’m working in the veg garden.

Peter’s done a lot of work getting the electric fence so it zaps effectively.  A storm brought down a tree which pretty much earthed it.  There are other places where weed growth is affecting it, and our electric lawn edge trimmer just wasn’t doing the job.  A noisy, petrol-driven brush-cutter with 3 blades is much more effective, and a real man-tool.   Fingers crossed it doesn’t go the usual route of most of our power tools too soon.

The advice we got about the wetland essentially involves getting rid of the rampant willows.  They are non-native ‘crack willows’ which mean they drop branches off or keel over, then re-grow from several new shoots.  Their roots have made a mesh on the ground, and their canopy is very dense – blocking out the light.  We’ve stopped the area being grazed, so that if there are any native seeds they have a chance, and we’re in the process of drilling the willows and injecting them with neat round-up (as advised).  They’ll need to be cut down in about 3 months after this treatment.  Not exactly an organic approach, but the alternative will require decades before any impact is made.  We can apply for a protective covenant for the wetland area, so that future occupants of the land have to maintain it.  Probably we’ll do that when it starts to look a bit more like native wetland.  Native plants, grown from local seed, can be bought cheaply, and I’m thinking of approaching the local school to see of any kids want a planting project.  There's already optimisim that it won't be too difficult to promote wildlife - this native forest weta was found (unwisely) trying to get into Lucas' school bag (left outside):

In the meantime the rest of our lives roll on.  I'm really hoping that at some point I can reduce my working hours to spend more time on the farm (the term 'farm' has surreptitiously pushed out 'lifestlye bock', which I'm not keen on, and 'smallholding' which I am keen on but is just too pommy).  I have no idea how that could possibly happen, so am holding onto the thought that things sometimes just work out.  It's a good feeling to be providing our boys with the chance to experience farm-life before they fly the nest.  There are definitely times when they think we're nuts, but they do succumb to a kind of infectiousness that it's good living.  And there has yet to be a visiting friend who fails to return home proudly muddy and bruised.