Pamiętam...

Dla Ewka od Tatusia.

Ulubiony robote...

We've had a good long spell of dry weather, give or take the odd shower or two. So I took advantage of it to turn over the bit of the plot I am going to use and then plant the potatoes.

It really is my favourite job on the plot, a real reminder that spring is coming and that new potatoes won't be long (about 14 weeks usually, less if I can't wait). So it's out with the soil, down to a spit deep. This is possible on one part but not on the other so it just goes as deep as I can. Line the trench with good rotten cow shit and then gently place the chitted seed potatoes. Draw the soil back over the top, making a little bit of a hillock to show other people I've been busy, then stand back and admire my work.

Moving house, part one...

I thought I might have had the plot to myself last week when I popped up to turn the ground ready for the potatoes, but the place was packed. There'd also been a good deal of activity since my last visit, as I found out when I went through the gate. What was once good thick turf has been reduced to a slippery slope.

It got worse further in, with the path to the plot more of the same, up to the spring where we get our water. There, some bright spark had had the idea of moving the basin where the water collects, with the result we now have a pool where the old pool was, and a swamp because the new plastic sump doesn't drain the water away properly.

When I got to the bee plot, I was horrified to find this mess:

Walking across from the path was hard work and I can only begin to imagine how much harder it would be with a full super. You can't even wheel a barrow it's that uneven. When I queried who and why, and pointed out that was my half plot for the bees I was given some vague bullshit that just proved once again that the people who have plots on that site have no clue how gardening works, and if brains were manure, there'd be enough to fertilise only a very small gro-bag.

So my hand was forced, so to speak. I don't want the bees on this site any longer and decided to move them straight away. So with a friend, Andrew's, help the remaining hive (the one on the left in the photo) was lifted from its home of over three years, carried stumblingly across the ground, placed gently in the car and driven to a new location.

The distance from site to site was well over the regulation three miles and they should do well there, secluded and in the midst of masses of balsam. I returned to the plot site on the Monday and removed the rest of the windbreak netting and the remaining hive and will re-queen as soon as possible to get back to two colonies.

All this was done in the rain so thankfully there were no flying bees, and I have yet to inspect them after their move, but it all went smoothly, albeit a couple of skids on the path of the skimmed allotments and a near-miss blunder at the top of the potentially lethal steps, below.

The photo is blurred because I was still shaking after slipping on the second step, with Andrew skidding at the top. Thankfully those orange straps keep everything nicely tight and together. So one colony successfully moved, no stings, no mishaps. Thank goodness!

Don't count on your council...

Graffiti these days seems to consist solely of 'tagging', those irritating and pathetic attempts to put a mark on something. In the olden days, graffiti said something, but now it's rare to find something thought provoking or controversial. My own favourite of the last few months, written in neat capitals in a Salford underpass, was: 'Bethany Atherley stinks of fish!'

So it was with pleasure that I noticed this message to the council:

Not that they'll take any notice. A couple of weeks ago our soak away drain was tarmaced over. This has been useful over the last five years, taking water from the downspout and soaking it away so it doesn't wash across the footpath. Now it does, because the council have blocked up the soak. They told me it wasn't a soak, it was caused by 'erosion' because there was no foot on the downspout. It reminded me of Father Ted, querying why Dougal hadn't taken Father Jack for his walk to the cliffs. 'They were gone' says Dougal. 'Gone?' says Ted incredulously, 'How could they be gone?' 'Er... erosion.'

Needless to say, I got no joy from the council. They have blocked up a perfectly useable drain, and now water floods across the footpath. The road is pitted and rutted, potholed and cratered. The footpath on Market Street has almost no flag that doesn't wobble. They've approved another £18million in cuts, to add to the ever-increasing amount they say they have to save, but have miraculously found £4.5million to improve the main market. They continue to pursue a ridiculous bid to gain city status when the town itself has the mentality of a small village...

*Gets off soapbox...*

Rest in bees...

Apologies for the awful pun, but it seemed appropriate. On Saturday, with the mild weather continuing, I decided to go and check all was well with the bees. The first colony, the more tetchy of the two, was filling the super and buzzing quite a bit. Their mood wasn't help by my clumsy removal of the super. I just couldn't get it off and ended up tipping one side and prising off the frames underneath. I knew it would be stuck but didn't think it would be so bad. It wasn't helped by the extra comb the bees had built down into the, now empty, frame feeder. At least they have taken all the Fumidil B and so should be nosema-free now. One thing I do need to do is widen the slats in the floor for the varroa tray. Part of the reason I don't effectively manage the varroa is because it's a struggle to get the sliders in and out. Must remedy that this season, it's a part of my beekeeping I know is lacking...

So, after a bit of lumping about (and only one minor sting!) I moved onto the second hive. Oh dear. No sign of anything when I took off the lid. A small cluster of maybe 20-30 bees were stuck at the top of one frame and there were odd ones and twos of bees across some of the other frames. There were stores, at least four frames-worth, but from the position of some bees (head down, right down into the cell, just the business end sticking out) I must suspect starvation. I can't understand it, they were a good-sized cluster not two weeks back, with plenty of stores and a frame feeder full of syrup. Needless to say they hadn't taken much from the feeder. So for the first time since I started keeping bees, I have lost a colony. Gutted. I brushed off the frames and closed up the hive and came home to think about my next move. I hope to move both hives in the next few weeks and then, once settled, will attempt to re-queen from the first hive. I like having two colonies, it gives a way of comparing how each is doing so I will make sure I expand again as soon as possible.

On a slightly different note, I got my monthly newsletter from my association, Manchester beekeepers. The results of the honey show were in. Seven of the classes were won by the local bee inspector. Is it just sour grapes, thinking a professional beekeeper has an unfair advantage?

Snowdrops and rain...

It's been some time since I posted anything. Kalina keeps us both busy and, at the moment, there's very little to do on the plot except visit every couple of weeks and replace the covers that the wind blew off. The bees were treated with oxalic acid, for varroa, and Fumidil B, for nosema, in December and are snug in their hives. At some stage I will need to move them on to our plot as the powers that be want the area they are on for another allotment. The original idea, that the area was used as a 'bee garden', has obviously been superseded by financial need although the way the plot site is run means spaces are given to people who turn up once, pay, and then disappear. Cronyism is suspected, rather than getting people who are interested and willing to break their backs. Our plan for this year is to leave half the plot covered, put potatoes on the other half and pray whatever gods we can think of that we're offered something by the council close to home.

The bees present another problem, however, and I am still trying to find somewhere for them. Hopefully I will get somewhere before the end of February when the weather should start to warm up, although we have been promised another cold snap.

On a brighter note, the snowdrops we have on the windowsill have started to flower. Pretty little white heads, tinged with green, nodding gently in the breeze and looking in at us through the window. A sure sign winter is ending.

Farnworth jest fajnie, częśc 3

To my great amusement I spotted this sign on the way back home last weekend. Even funnier is there was another one round the corner.

Unseasonal autumn weather...

I remember last year's visit to Erddig was sunny, but with a definite chill in the air. This year, however, shorts would have been more appropriate as it was warm even as we left Farnworth. Plenty of people thought an apple festival was a good idea and we had to queue for fifteen minutes to get into the grounds. The set-up was similar to last year, except the blacked-up Border Morris Men had been replaced by an altogether more genteel group who didn't look like they'd shout or wield sticks as phallic trophies. I don't know really, as we missed their performance, preferring instead to slob about on a bench in the shade.

Apples were purchased and we also bought a beautiful turned oak fruit bowl. To celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary we needed something in wood and we had often admired bowls at other events, always shying away from paying the price. But we decided that we could justify the cost for our anniversary and the bowl now sits, crammed full of apples, on the table.

So what did we come away with? Several bottles of apple juice, both sweet and medium, went into the fridge, with the apples getting used in the following ways:

• Tower of Glamis: made into puree and frozen
• Arthur Turner: made into a crumble and eaten
• Norfolk Beauty: some floury eaters for Agnieszka
• Beauty of Kent: to be made into a crumble later this week
• Lord Lambourne: bright red eaters, sat in the bowl
• Orleans Reinette: sharp, crispy eaters for me
• Pitmaston Pineapple: small, juicy, incredibly tasty; these won't last long
• Ashmead's Kernal: wrapped in paper, stored in a bag in the porch for Christmas 

Despite the list being quite long, these won't last us for more than a couple of weeks. It really does make us want to plant and maintain an orchard. The look of most of the apples is not of supermarket high quality, some are lumpy and mis-shapen, but the taste is amazing and surely that is more important.

Smacznego!

All change...

It's been a while since my last post. Quite a few things have happened since then, the most amazing of which was the arrival of Kalina, in mid-July. Since then the plot has taken a bit of a back seat while we learn how to feed, clean, clothe and entertain a newborn who doesn't sleep! It's a steep learning curve, but we're getting there.

On the spud front, I managed, over a period of a week, so dig what potatoes there were. We ended up with a couple of bags of Annabelle and one of Sante. Disappointing to say the least. The soil doesn't help, as I am sure with deeper soil we would have had more than one or two tubers off each plant. There are parts of the plot I need to leave covered permanently I think, things just don't grow. On a more positive note, the raspberries have been doing really well, the variety 'Polka' that we have yields huge long mulberry-like fruits which are sweet and delicious. The French beans have been dreadful, again, and the celeriac is eaten to pieces. I've put a few cabbages on now, to try and keep the soil busy over the winter, but the weather has been so crap I still have half the plot to get ready before winter.

The bees have been doing odd things too, and getting to see them has proved awkward. So much rain, then a tiny window of opportunity (missed by me) and then rain again. Both hives appear to have superseded their queens, which has scuppered my chances of breeding from the good queen next spring, but both also seem to be laying ok, despite the weather and the lateness of the season. So far I have had around 150lb of honey, with several supers to go. So comparable with last year and a good harvest.

It will be Michaelmas in a few weeks. The end of the year in farming terms, a time to reflect on what grew well, what we did well, what didn't come off and what we might do next year. It's already time to plant the winter onions and think about what varieties of garlic we need. I'd like to cook something special for Michaelmas; not a goose, but something traditional, to celebrate. Anyone any ideas?

Blight...

Despite spraying with Bordeaux mixture in June, I noticed several stems wilting and turning black over the past week or two. The warm damp weather are perfect conditions for blight spores to increase and even on Sante, a foliage and tuber resistant potato, they found a good breeding ground. So I have pulled the tops of all our spuds, the second earlies that we'd just started digging, and the mains that I was hoping would see us through the winter. Probably not this year. I am dismayed at this turn of events, particularly as potatoes are my staple food, and I was just getting to the stage of being able to grow enough to last a year. So what to do when disaster strikes? Dig what we can and hope they survive.

A rare bog beauty...

After milking we have a 'turn about the estate' and check that all fences are secure and all animals are where they are supposed to be. A couple of weeks ago we found the first orchids, tucked down in the boggy part of the field. There are several now and easy to spot once you know what you're looking for.

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap...

This dirty deed is one I can't say I enjoy a great deal. Who would? And how can a creamy white lamb, like the one below:

Turn into a shitty-arsed muck magnet?

It can't be nice for them, to have all that extra weight round their backsides. Having seen the damage flies and maggots can do, I try to make sure I have all the dung off them but it can be difficult if they don't stand still. If you nip them with the scissors then they do tend to leap about a bit, and I can't say I blame them.

First of the year...

A strange year so far, with the long hot May and then the damp and chilly June. Then today, again, we're at boiling point after planting out leeks in the rain yesterday. Haven't been to my parents' plot for a couple of weeks, due to Todmorden Show, so the spinach was a bit of a mess when I got there this week. Stripped a lot of it to tidy it up and picked a few other bits and bobs. That gave us our first home grown meal of the year:

New Charlotte potatoes, mange tout, calabrese and a slice of home-made cheese on top. You can't get better than that!

Bread and cheese...

There is a glut of milk from the goats at the moment. Two of them are filling the bucket to (almost) over-flowing, while the others give at least 4kg a session. That's only half of their daily offering but I am not there in the evenings and can only imagine how much there is every day. The plus point is I have been able to get my hands on plenty of raw milk and have the chance to experiment a little, with a bit of cheese-making.

The first one I made ended up too salty, thanks to faulty scales. But this one looks to be much better. Semi-hard and very creamy, it is perfect for spreading on the bread. 

The purchase of a new book on bread-making has given me some further tips and suggestions and I tried using some of them last night. I am not sure the table will be up to vigorous kneading as it did make a few creaky noises.

Images of Spring...

 

How not to hive a swarm...

For the second time since I started keeping bees, I had a swarm. I got the phone call at 5.30 one night and later we went over to see what they were up to. Not a lot as it happens; they were sat on a post, as quiet as could be.

So I scraped them into a carboard box, propped open one corner with a stick and left them to it.

The next afternoon I went to house them in a proper hive, collected the box:

But they had other ideas, as you can see. After buzzing around the plots in a cloud for what seemed like ages, they finally settled on the same post they were on originally.

So I waited until the evening, then went back. This time they were clustered more on the fence than the post. I got what I could off the post / fence, scraping and brushing them into the box before transferring them into the new hive.  

Another day later, back again. This time there was no sign of them on the post, and unfortunately no bees in the box. I obviously didn't get the queen. Thankfully, the hive they came from has a queen cell, so all is not yet lost. Another lesson learned, some more experience to add to that already gained.

The daggy end of the stick...

It was a glorious morning this Sunday, the motorway was full of people off to clog the highways and byeways of the Lake District, and arriving at the farm at 7.30 is lovely. Quiet apart from the song of birds, the occasional passing car, the bleat of sheep or goats. The sun shone and it was so pleasant to walk through the fields, marvelling at the wood anemones, pausing to pick some wild garlic / ramsom leaves. They made lovely soup the day after and are excellent mixed with mayonnaise and used as a dressing for potatoes.

I put the collected leaves in a bucket and was in a world of my own when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Fozzie charging down the field at me. Naturally, I shit a brick, as you would when a 100kg ram is making straight for you. Thankfully it wasn't me he was after, but to see if there was anything in the bucket. One sniff of the ramsoms and he was off again, uninterested. I was much more alert after that.

After milking we put the Dorpers through the foot bath, something that we now do every week (when they don't undo the gate and let themselves out as they did this week) and it seems to be keeping their feet nice and healthy. Then we rounded up some of the ewes running with the ram. They were due for fluke drenching and, while we had them in the shed, we crutched a couple of dirty ones.

Crutching, dagging, call it what you will, it is one of the dirtiest jobs I've done so far. Basically, dagging is removing the dangleberries from a sheep's rear end, the accumulated dung that, due to scour or illness, sticks, like the proverbial to a blanket, and has to be cut off. Now, I am all for learning new skills and techniques and if I want sheep I have to do this, so I didn't complain when I was given the dagging shears and told to get on with it. But what a job. Thick, black lumps of dried muck stuck to the fleece. Cutting it out was a slow process, but essential if the sheep isn't to be the target of flies which, attracted by the smell, lay eggs and then on hatching, the maggots burrow into the wool and skin of the animal.

So could it get worse? Hacking at dried cack? Well it got worse when the largest lump turned out to be warm and slimy on one side; it got worse when the ewe decided the shears were too close to her bum and started flicking her tail; and it got, finally, worse, when she decided that now would be a good time to add further dung to the stuff already there. Textbook.

Ten minutes of cutting and trimming, though, did the job and she must have been relieved to get rid of the extra weight. Too much information?   

 Later that afternoon we went to do my favourite job of the year: planting the potatoes. This year we have earlies Annabelle, and maincrop Sante. I think Sante are what we had last year, but a memory lapse and poor bag marking means I don't actually know what we've almost finished eating. I'll be better this year, I made a note in my book.

All change in the shippon...

Ever since I started working with Jane up at the farm, I have been milking the same two goats: Anna and Ava. So a couple of weeks ago, when I was told they'd be going soon, I didn't really think much of it and assumed I had misheard. But last weekend, I arrived to find a little van and trailer parked where I normally do and a flurry of activity in the yard.

I was able to milk the two of them as usual but, after milking, the trailer was got ready and the goats loaded into it for their long trip up to Arran, where they'll have a new home.

I have got quite attached to the two of them, Anna (above), who stands still while she has something in her bucket to eat, and turns to sniff my ear while I am milking her; Ava (below), who has long teats that make it easy for me to milk, but who had a habit of kicking if she thought she could get away with it.  

In recent weeks Ava got a bit of 'spring fever' and, instead of wandering back into her pen after milking, would dart outside and trot around the yard. It's hard to run after a goat when you're carrying a bucket full of milk, as I found out.

Next week there'll be some new tenants in the pens, as the goatlings will move into the shippon, leaving a pen free for all the new kids. It's an interesting game of solitaire, and one that keeps me busy.

Rocznica...

One of yesterday's jobs was planting some wild daffodils on the bank in the hope they will naturalise and, in years to come, give a wonderful display. Wild daffodils are very delicate and pretty, with small flower heads. It made me think of you, Ewa, particularly yesterday. I still think of you every day and wonder what you would be like now. Sleep well.

Ready for lambing...

Sunday we divided the Dorset flock into those due to lamb, those not due until May, and those to run with the ram in order to get them in-lamb for September.

The beauty of Dorsets is they come into season all year round and it is possible to have lambs two or three times a year.  

The other good thing is I get to experience lambing three times in one year, at a lesiurely pace, than having to cram it all in over two or three weeks.