August 2016

We seem to be emerging from a cold southerly blast that has lasted a good couple of weeks, into a string of cloudy, wet days.  After last summer’s drought, the rain is still kinda welcome.  The woodstove has been glorious at keeping us warm and heating bath water.  The chill has only really affected evening and night time temperatures, as daytime usually reaches between 12-16 degrees.  Once the frost has cleared, some days have been positively balmy.
 

Spring is beckoning and crop preparations are underway.  Well, the potatoes are chitting at least, and the ordered seeds have arrived.  Seed planting will begin in earnest in the next couple of weeks – with all that tantalising promise of bountiful produce.  There's no sign of animal bounty in the form of lambs (darn), but fruit buds are getting bigger and weeds are just starting to make their mark in the keyhole beds.  It’s like the calm before the storm.

The paths in the vegetable garden are gradually being re-covered with weed-mat, though nothing like as quickly as I’d hoped.  It’s a monumental task that I’m looking forward to completing so I can get on with other garden stuff.  I’m aware that my standards are slipping the longer the job takes, so here’s hoping I don’t stuff up too badly.  Roll on the gravel stage.

The new pond behind the pump shed is filled and work has begun on its rocky surrounds.  We’ve liberated some rocks from the garden (the lawn will have to be extended to fill the gap they’ve left) and they’re now around the pond.  There are plenty more to move, so it should take shape further.  Eventually gravel will extend from the paths to meet the rocks.  It’ll need a bit more titivating in terms of planting, but so far so good.

In the meantime the vege garden remains productive, though probably not for too much longer.  We’re out of potatoes, but carrots are still go, as are baby leeks, cavalo nero, kale, beetroot and (my favourite) purple sprouting.  Fruit supplies for smoothies are still ongoing too - currants, gooseberries, plums, peaches and rhubarb - though these are frozen, not fresh.  I’m sure there’s more in the hairy depths of the freezer.  They’ll be like buried treasure when they’re eventually discovered.  

The chooks spent a few days confined to barracks after breaching the vege garden boundary, and have not attempted to re-enter since they were re-released.  Not that we’ve seen anyway.  They are laying again (we’re getting around 3 fabulous, huge eggs a day) so they’ve been cut a bit of slack.  I’d like to lay down some straw in the flower beds, but that will have to wait until they have to be contained again i.e. when vege seedlings are eventually planted out, or if they misbehave otherwise.

Karyn has finally come and pruned the roses.  I get very impatient with them, looking all ugly and straggly, and for months she insists it’s too soon, and in any case I’m not allowed anywhere near them with a sharp implement.  To be fair she’s not the only person to have expressed reservations about me and sharp things.  I gave her fair and due warning that I’d had enough and was about to take the chain saw to them.  That did the trick, and now they’re beautifully pruned and ready for bud burst.  As per her specific instructions I have scattered horse poo around them, though it goes against the grain to waste perfectly good manure on roses rather than edible crops. 

The bees seem to be enjoying the mild daytime temperatures.  They’re buzzing around in their hundreds so are visible as well as audible.  Honey supplies are lasting out.  They make fantastic gift currency.  I either give them away or trade them for whatever else people have.  So far that’s meant hazelnuts and a hazelnut tree, a jar of award-winning zucchini chutney (from ‘Chuntey’ queen Tanya) and some fish.  Much better than money.

The pizza oven is still in use, mainly for roast dinners.  Amazing that something we constructed has lasted so long and works so well.  The sparrows do like to warm their toes on the outside. So much for thinking it was well-insulated.  Maybe another outer layer with cow poo is in order.  Our supplies of fire-wood have increased thanks to Jill and George.  They’ve been coming round and chopping up trees, and sharing the bounty with us.  They were even able to borrow a wood-splitter and have worked through all the bigger logs turning them into wood-stove and pizza-oven sized chunks.  That would have taken Peter days of axe-work, so is a massively welcome gesture. 

Hot on the heels of my nearly award-winning honey (technically it didn’t win the public vote, but it was the judge’s choice, and that’s plenty good enough for me), I’ve had international success with my first cider.  Ok, another exaggeration, but it did win the 2016 Onamalutu Best Cider prize.  Some of our neighbours organised a social event for the valley residents, which cleverly centred on a beer and cider competition.  My cider was made from Foxwood Broxwelp apples, using a kitchen blender and wild yeasts.  My dad’s family originates from Somerset - where the cider apples grow - so maybe some of my luck was spirited down from my ancestors.  The prize was a beautiful wooden bottle, turned on a lathe, and a voucher for the local brewing shop. 


The voucher bought a dozen solid dark glass bottles with clip tops, which are perfect for the kombucha and water kefir drinks that have been fermenting away in the kitchen.  I prefer the taste of the kombucha, but the water kefir is rampant, needing attention every 2 days.  It's currently getting a rest in the fridge.  It's great to have these drink options available, and no doubt they'll be even more refreshing in the summer.  They're good for my liver too, if only because of being an alcohol-alternative!

Peter has been playing with his new tool toy – a glass bottle cutter.  It was a birthday present from Marcus and Nikki, and should mean that we don’t ever have to buy glasses again.  For a family who smashes glass on a frequent basis, that’s perfect.  He’s even having a go at a spot of engraving.

Sam's 19th birthday has been and gone, and so has his wine-making course.  New plans are afoot for him.  Billy’s doing his prelim exams and has chosen his subjects for next year, though still has no idea what he’d like to do in the future.  We’re expecting another Japanese visitor next week, a school boy from Jissen Gakuen, where Mikiru and Kakeru came from last year.  He’ll stay for a week, and hopefully the snow will last out on Rainbow so that we can take him sledging. 

Welcome spring and the many contented solitary hours working on the land that lie ahead.  I definitely enjoy the almost meditative element to gardening, getting totally absorbed in whatever it is I'm doing.  Ernest Hemingway (A Moveable Feast) has the best words:

‘When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself”

July 2016

Winter has mostly been on the mild side, though here in the valley there’ve been plenty of morning frosts.  Wineries and gardeners are concerned that the lack of persistent cold means that bugs that would otherwise perish are still surviving and will thrive even more when it warms up.  Perhaps they’re worried too soon.  The local ski field (Rainbow) has just received its first significant dumping of snow, so winter is definitely not yet done with us. The photo above (sorry for all the sunsets) was taken from the school bus stop looking out of the valley. The small glistening patch is the Onamalutu River winding its way towards the Wairau.

I’ve spent a week at Greymouth, working in the maternity unit and catching up with some good West Coast folk.  The ward was unusually quiet this time, no near catastrophes on my watch – a pleasant change at last.  The weather wasn’t too bad either, which made the travel to and fro quite pleasant.  This delightful sunset was on my first evening there, and taken from a viewing point just round the corner from where I was staying (courtesy of the West Coast DHB).

Back home, most of my outdoor time has been consumed by clearing the woodchip paths in the vege garden.  Most of the weeds have seeded and grown on top of the weedmat, but in a few places the more persistent undermat weed roots have well and truly woven themselves into the mat.  If only my sewing was so good. The most well-trodden routes have composted beautifully and almost completely, and this lovely dark soil has been painstakingly scooped up and transported by wheelbarrow, mostly to the orchard, but also to top up some of the horse arena beds.  Some of these beds were quite short of organic materials when they were set up, and it’s great to be able to put this rich matter to good use.  So far, I’ve done most

of this myself, though Billy has been helping in the last few days which has been fantastic.  It’s kind of like a daily work-out, but without the lycra and gym equipment. Each of the fruit trees has been blessed by a generous circle of it, and when the weather warms, some ‘orchard lee’ seeds will be sown.  This should add some biodiversity and attract beneficial insects.  There’s still plenty of work to be done with the vege garden paths, but at least progress has been made.

Winter veges are still feeding us, though supplies are dwindling and there’s not much growth in those that are left.  The fruit trees are bare and have received Derryn’s magical pruning touch.  She’s like Mrs Scissor-Hands, snipping and chopping away while I follow in her wake.  It takes me 5 minutes to agonise about a decision to cut one branch. I did have a go with the plumcot (in the photo) and the 2 pear trees that mark the entrance to the vege garden, hacking off branches and tying down some of the remaining ones to make them ‘dance’.  Derryn thinks they look fine (phew) and hopefully, so will Chris, our old garden tutor, as she looks down from her heavenly abode.

The chooks have been temporarily re-confined to barracks after being caught red-handed in the vege garden.  They made a beeline for Karyn’s bed, so it was tempting to turn a blind eye!  We’ve started re-releasing them again, but usually only later in the day.  They’ve done a pretty good job of spreading the woodchip compost around the orchard trees as well, so maybe their free-ranging days are numbered.

We’ve finally made a decision about what to do with the patch of land behind the pump-shed.  My idea of a triangle-shaped hut was poo-pooed by Peter in favour of his pond concept.  It is an obvious place for a pond, and means that we can even out the ground a little so it doesn’t go downhill.  The pond liner is ordered, and we’ll use some rocks salvaged from around the house to build up the area.  Having spent months trying to decide what tree to put in there, I’d finally succumbed to a bargain-bucket cider apple tree (a Cidre Bisquet) that begged me to buy it.  It’s planted and staked, and will now be able to provide some summer shade to the new pond. 

Sometime ago our neighbours asked if we wanted some bluebell bulbs that they have in zillions.  They recently brought some around and we got them planted up in the orchard, at the shady end along the driveway.  We plan to get round to expanding the numbers of bulbs from their huge supply. We have fond memories of bluebell woods in England, and even fonder memories of Peter's mum loving them.  It should end up as a treasured reminder of her.
  

Leggy and the ewes are still munching their way around the property.  We’ve been feeding them with ‘sheep nuts’ in the hope of taming them before they start lambing.  If they start lambing that is.  They’re not exactly looking laden with lambs, but we’re still hopeful that they might be pregnant.  They do love the sheep nuts, and can be quite demanding when you go out in the morning, and at any other time they think they’re in with a chance of a feed.

Billy is slowly getting on with driving.  He’s been driving the ute around the paddock, but after having a proper lesson with a driving instructor, has decided that the ute really is a sod to drive.  We’ll insure him in our (automatic) family car so at least he can get some experience on the road.  He’s keen to get his own car, but that will require a job first, so maybe it’ll be a while…

Derryn’s been brewing kombucha.  When her ‘scoby’ was big enough to divide, she gave half to me.  It’s now busy looking disgusting in a glass jar on the bench.  So far it’s green tea kombucha, but if I can keep it alive, then I’ll progress onto honey kombucha (jun).  I do have form on the fermentation front at least - not only in the form of wines, but I’ve also managed to keep kefir grains alive and kicking for several months now.  Here’s hoping…

All up, it’s a quiet time on the farming calendar.  We’ll be booking in another few tonnes of lime sometime over the next few weeks.  Otherwise there’s little to do on the paddocks beyond feeding out hay to the cows.  The sheep can help themselves to hay but aren’t really very keen.  Scooping up the woodchip from the vege garden paths, re-weed-matting and covering with pea metal should save us precious weeding time in the long run, but is already taking up a huge chunk of the available winter outdoor time.  There’s never a now-what-shall-I-do moment, which I tell myself is a real blessing.  How lucky we are to have things to do all the time and not get bored!  Of course there are definitely moments when a bit of boredom wouldn’t be a bad thing, but this country living lark still isn’t bad at all.  Just ask the cows.

June 2016

We didn’t need it to be the first official day of winter on June 1^st to know that winter had begun.  It’s that electric blanket time of year.  There have been many frosty mornings with those glorious blue-sky days that I’m always harping on about.  There’s snow on the mountain tops, making the drive out of the valley even more scenic.  We’ve been blessed with rain too, sometimes lots of it, certainly enough to revive the paddocks.

 

There’s a particularly magical period of time, usually around 11/11:30am when the sun is warm enough to burn off the frost.  As the mist rises, it creates a kind of ethereal cloak over the land.  You could be forgiven for thinking that the place is smokily on fire.

The frost is beautiful too, even if it’s quite short-lived.  These autumnal beech tree leaves will be gone soon, so it’s very good of them to hang around long enough to model themselves photogenically draped in sparkly frost.  The citrus are still cosy under their frost cloth and are surviving the sub-zero night temperatures.  Alas the poor old pomegranate tree, that valiantly overcame its brush with frosty death last year by sending up new shoots, has been again hit by the frost this year.  Yes I know I was supposed to frost-protect it too, and I did, but only for a while.  I took the frost cloth off during a warm spell and forgot to put it back.  Plonker.  Will have to come up with a better plan.

The rain has brought out the water-loving birdlife.  Pukekos are a common site in the valley, and our neighbourhood weka has been cutely tap-tap-tapping on the window.  Ducks are abundant, especially these native shell ducks that turn up whenever there’s a worthy pond.  Their quacks often echo across the property, making a very pleasant change from the chainsaw whines that once were so common.

The chooks are making the most of their free-ranging opportunities. There’s chook-poo spread far and wide, and there are no longer any parts of the garden mulched with straw.  Their saving grace has been the lack of transgression into the vege garden thus far.  The young chick is now nearly as big as the others, but unfortunately for her, she’s the last in the pecking order.  She manages to get out of the run somehow – maybe she flies out because there are no obvious breaches – and is usually hanging around waiting to be fed on a morning.  She doesn’t cause any trouble so I feed her first before releasing the rest of the flock, to make sure she gets something before they put her in her place again. 

The vege garden beds that aren’t winter cropping are slowly being tucked up.  Slowly is the operative word here, as my weeding energy seems to be petering out.  It’d be good to get them all sorted, then I can focus on gardening elsewhere.  In my support, the shorter days make it difficult to get too stuck in, as does the damp, cloddy soil and the shady places which barely de-frost after chilly nights.  Karyn is soldiering on though.  Her bed is cleared and mulched, she’s cropped her first veges (beetroot) and has even helped out with pruning the currant bushes.  There’s more pruning to be done (pear trees, peachcot) and the raspberry bed in the horse arena needs considerable attention.  Better keep her sweet.  More honey?

Several seeds are saved ready for next year.  Some are veges (tomatoes and beans mostly) and there are flower seeds too.  The flowers in the garden were shaken to spread their seeds before they were tidied up, so hopefully there’ll be lots of happy self-sown seedlings next year.  The forget-me-not and poached egg plant seedlings are taking over.  So much for imagining that the frost would see them off.  Not sure what to do with them now – it seems heartless to uproot them when they’ve been such stalwarts. 

Dionysus is not yet really integrated into the herd.  He stays nearby Hera and Athena but doesn’t appear to be one of the gang.  It’s a bit sad really, as he’s still only a baby.  Leggy the ram is still coughing, but this doesn’t appear to be any worse, and he looks robust.  The ewes aren’t looking obviously pregnant, but experience tells us that we’ve been crap at gauging that before anyway.  We’ll just keep our fingers crossed as usual.

Natural phenomena continue to be delightful.  Evidence of our clean air is abundant in the form of lichen, draped over a number of trees.  The tree in the photo is in the garden, next to the pizza oven.   This coral fungus was one of a few growing on pine tree trunks – a fascinating structure which lasted for several days before being added to the worm farm.

Billy was 16 on June 17th – old enough to get his Learner driving licence which he did on the day.  Release from more than 20 years of taxi services for our off-spring is finally on the horizon, assuming that Billy embraces this opportunity for independence.  Sam is fitting in a few shifts in a local restaurant as a waiter, working around his studies.  We went there for a family meal when Lucas came down for the weekend.  We definitely didn’t order the praying mantis that came with Lucas’ salad, and he was most relieved that it wasn’t half a praying mantis.  Years ago in the UK Lucas kept mantises as pets.  They were exotic creatures there, so it was hilarious that one just showed up on his plate. 

My favourite writing hero recently passed away.  Gene Logsdon was author of ‘Holy Shit’ (the inspiration for my article ‘Holy Meconium’) and the blog site ‘The Contrary Farmer’, among numerous other publications.  His wise and profound words and thoughts were many.  One of my many favourite concepts of his was the term 'persnickety fecophobes'.  Check out his short story ‘The man who created paradise’.  
RIP Gene, and may your farming and life-wisdom continue to influence others. 

May 2016

The valley appears to be recovering from the major fire of last year.  The burned trunks have been taken down, along with many others that were in close proximity to the road or to properties.  The damage to the road has also been fixed, so all up it’s a safer route in and out of the valley.  The photo was taken from the school bus stop, and shows a cluster of trees that went up in flames, and some that were spared by the work of the fire-fighting crews. 

After our recent lack of success with artificial insemination, and the inherent difficulties in working out which one is on heat when you have just 2 cows, we bit the bullet and got a new (and very charming) steer calf.  Arthur chose his name - ‘Dionysus’ (God of Wine – very appropriate thanks Arthur!).   He’s tiny in comparison to Athena and Hera, but then they are quite robust beasts.  They haven’t been altogether friendly to him, which came as a surprise as previous introductions to the herd have been sweetly welcomed.  Perhaps they’re enjoying the post-Zeus era and aren’t keen on ‘cowtowing’ to another male.

The main flower garden is still colourful, with autumn colour adding to the overall palette. The gingko is in its beautiful buttery yellow glory, and the bottlebrush plant from Lucas has been flowering its little heart out.   I’ve been reluctant to tidy up the flowers too much, so that the bees can make the most of the remaining supplies.  Millions of Forget-me-not and Poached-egg plant seedlings have come up – it’ll be interesting to see what the cold weather does to them as the season progresses.  That’s a fine excuse for not getting round to weeding and mulching.  The sign, made by Peter and Billy, tells it as it is.

The end of the fruit is nigh, but it’s still possible to find the last remnants of figs, quince and raspberries.  There are even a few feijoa on the very young trees in the horse arena.  Our neighbours, Shona and Craig, have had a bumper feijoa crop, so a couple of buckets-full have kindly come our way in exchange for honey and pumpkins. 

The veges are also doing nicely, and we’re cropping the usual wintery suspects – carrots, brassicas, spinach, beetroot, onions and some baby leeks.  There are still a few tomatoes in Madame Cholet to be harvested, and some celery which will be chopped and frozen for soups.  The veges at the seedling stage are also growing up, including Karyn’s plantings, which are now beautifully weeded so are no longer lowering the tone of the vege garden.  My parsnips still haven’t shown up, though my carrot tops are bigger than hers! 

The main raspberry and boysenberry bed has been weeded, pruned back, next year’s shoots tied up, nourished with horse poo and mulched with clover straw.  It was quite a mammoth task involving multiple arm scratches and prickles in fingers, but by ‘eck it’s great to get it done, and it looks good.  Karyn provided the technical know-how and I did the donkey work.

Other keyhole beds in the vege garden have been similarly bedded down for winter.  I made a unanimous decision to get rid of the repeating onions (not their real name which eludes me) that I like the thought of but never use, and also the Jerusalem Artichokes.  They’ll come back next year of course, but only 3 or 4 will be allowed to grow - and not the 15-20 that popped up this year.  As the only member of the household who enjoys them, the smaller quantity will suffice.  Apparently the stems make good kindling, which I’ll try to remember next year - ideally before putting them on the compost.

The low hedges in the vege garden are ready for their end of season trim, as are the other teuchrium hedges around the property, and in need of its first clip, the burgeoning korokia hedge along what will be the new pig run.  Most of the horse arena beds are manured and mulched, hurray.  The feijoa and strawberry bed needs similar attention but the strawberries will have to die down a bit more before it’s safe to cover them.  Their autumn colour is stunning – something I’ve never really associated with strawberries before.  The blueberries and the persimmon tree have also been spectacular, as have several other trees.  Perhaps it’s just a particularly gorgeous autumn for leaves, or maybe the blue skies of this record-breakingly sunny autumn are providing the perfect backdrop for the reds and oranges.

The sheep are strolling around, doing their sheep thing.  They seem to be fine except for Leggy who has been heard coughing on a number of occasions.  We’ve never drenched the sheep, and their general good health over the last few years seems to have justified that choice.  So, sincerely hoping that we don’t end up with regrets (and without lambs) this year.  It’s too soon to assess if Leggy’s already done his job and impregnated the ewes, but it’d sure be a miserable winter without the pitter-patter of adorable, bouncing lambs.

It’s been a very cheesy few weeks.  The blue cheese that we made at Derryn’s a few weeks ago is fantastic.  Was fantastic.  Must have been the way I stirred the curd.  She got on a good old cheese-making roll, and I’ve been obliged to taste-test a range of cheeses including 2 blues, feta, camembert and Valençay.  They were well-matched with the zucchini and feijoa chutneys that were gifted in return for honey.  Must get round to some serious pizza making as the oven is back in action after the fire ban.

Our already much diminished fresh egg supplies have now totally dropped-off.  We were getting one beautiful huge egg most days, just enough for an occasional eggy-treat and for Yorkshire puddings with Sunday roasts.  Optimistically the hens are all moulting and normal service will resume in a few weeks.  Either that or they’re doing a sterling job of hiding eggs.  The chick looks to be a hen, so the current Cornelius can rest on his laurels for a while.

A familiar bluey haze along the man road could mean only one thing – sloes, and billions of them.  I couldn’t stop myself from picking way more than would be feasible to steep in alcohol.  Sloe picking usually involves a fairly moderate level of arm and finger gashing, but there were so many that it was possible to avoid the inch-long thorns by picking only those on the outside.  I’ve made as much sloe gin as I dare (in the interests of liver health and alcoholic reputation), but there are still a few kgs of sloes in the freezer for gifts (yes, that means you Hayley). 

There’s much speculation about what winter will be like, after many months of El Nino weather.  It’d have been a truly perfect summer if we’d been on holiday all the time.  We’ve had some rain, but the land still needs to be refreshed with more.  The first snow has fallen in the deep south, and the ski fields are beginning to open.  Winter’s knocking at the door; here’s hoping we can hang onto autumn for a little while longer.