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 The set-up was similar to last year, except the blacked-up Border Morris Men had been replaced by an altogether more genteel group who didn't look like they'd shout or wield sticks as phallic trophies.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.

Livestock and deadstock...

Sunday mornings are important to me, a chance for me to learn, to put into practice what I have read in the week, to try out techniques and to get closer to the animals I want to, eventually, manage and breed. This Sunday was a sombre affair, however, as one of the milkers, Zia, had failed to birth the third of triplets. This resulted in septacaemia and, ultimately, she died. Her orphaned kids stand in the pen looking a bit lost, as if every time the gate opens it will be their mum. In the pen next door, Sybil, the one who always held milk back when I tried to milk her, also lost two kids. Perhaps an infection affected them both.

On a happier note, Elka had triplets (above) and all was well and one of the goatlings in the other shed had twins. So that's eleven new goats in the space of a week, with two more to kid. Then it will be the turn of the Dorpers and a few more Dorsets.

I was full of a cold so clipping the feet of the Dorpers took ages and I don't think I was her best buddy for taking so long. I'll have to buck my ideas up next week!

In a quiet few minutes at work, I had a bit of inspiration, and came up with this:

She leaves her golden bed
Of straw to stand
Obediant, expectant,
Over a silver pail.
Silence, save for munching,
A snicker, a belly rumble.

I lean my head
Into her side,
The rumen gurgles
Like the promise
Of a distant storm
But outside, all is silent.

Spring has sprung...

... the grass is ris,
I wonder where,
the birdies is.

There are plenty of birds around, they have been flexing their song muscles for several weeks. I stood at the back door last night and, mixed in among the screams of children, the revving of over-tuned cars and the distant sirens, listened to a blackbird filling the air with his liquid song. It is a sound I always get pleasure from, particularly in the urban mess that is Farnworth.

It's not just the birds gearing up for spring. Yesterday, when I got to the farm there were three new additions. Mum Zina was looking very pleased with herself, despite needing a hand to get the first kid, a breech presentation, out. These were born on Friday and are already jumping about, itching to get in and play with the other goats.

More are due this weekend, so I am hoping it happens near enough to Sunday for me to be present.

With the weather so bright and sunny, I also decided to have a quick look in the hives. Both colonies are doing well, although one has used up almost all of its winter stores. I took two of their empty frames out and swapped them for two full ones from the other hive but will need to pop back this week and give them some sugar syrup to keep them going. If the weather is good, they might not need it, but better to be safe than sorry. I have been quite good so far at keeping them going through the winter and I would hate a basic mistake like not feeding them interrupt my success.

Although the sun was out, it must have been warmer on my head than in the air, as you can see.

Extracting in the comfort of the Dower House...

One of the problems of a cold house is that honey doesn’t flow once summer is over. As extraction time is generally in the autumn it means I either have to be quick or leave the supers on the hive until spring. This year I was late taking the supers off and ended up with them in the house. A problem with my manual extractor meant it was taking half an hour to extract four frames and even then a fair bit of honey was still in the cells. It seems the basket needs to be lifted slightly so the cogs connect but until I can get it taken apart and checked, I have had to stop extracting.

Record breaking cold weather in December didn’t help either, so the honey has sat in the front room since it came off the hive. Thankfully, as a member of Manchester & District Beekeepers Association I have access to a pretty good set of equipment in a good-sized, purpose-built room in Heaton Park. They have everything there: a warming room, uncapping tank, electric extractor, various filters, and big sinks. So last week we popped down and left our four remaining supers in the warming room so when we went back this week they’d be easier to extract.

Two hours sounds like plenty of time but when you have to cut the cappings off each frame, a total of twenty, then load the extractor, spin for ten minutes, empty and repeat, then time disappears. Cleaning everything afterwards took over an hour so we were over time by the time we’d finished. But it was worth the sweating to get it all done. Due to a memory lapse, where I didn’t record how much was extracted from the first super of the year, the official amount of honey we recorded from last year is probably a few pounds lower than the actual amount, but at 170lbs (that’s 78kgs in new money) I think that’s not a bad season’s harvest for only two hives.

I am glad now I bought a gross and a half of jars, so at least we have somewhere to put it. All I have to do now is jar it up before it sets, otherwise we’ll be eating it out of a bucket.

Brotformen...

For some time now I have been baking my own bread, getting the fresh (free) supermarket yeast and doing a batch of half a dozen loaves. They don’t always come out as I had planned but the experience is good and the more I do it, the more I am producing similar loaves. But the perfect loaf is still a way off I think.

While we were down in Dorset we visited the Town Mill Bakery in Lyme Regis and I spoke to one of the people working there about bread. I can get the mix of flour right, but the seedy taste and chewy crust is still beyond me, and I wondered if they had any tips. She said they used proving baskets to give the loaf the shape, so for Christmas Agnieszka got me a couple to play with. They are made of cane and quite hard, and you line them with flour and allow the bread to rise in them before flopping it out onto a tray and baking it like that. My wife always manages to get me something really useful and wanted for my Christmas box, proof if any were needed that she’s the right one for me.

As for the bread, well it didn’t turn out too bad the first time. The crust could have been a little thicker, but our oven only goes up to 220 degrees, any more and the cupboards would go on fire. So I will keep on practicing and altering the flour mix, adding different seeds (this one is with linseeds which gives it a lovely nutty flavour), baking for longer, experimenting, learning.

Early beans look unlikely...

With all the snow and ice it hasn’t been possible to go to the plot for several weeks. The bees are usually alright over winter, so not too much to worry about but I do like to go and check everything is ok. So on Sunday, on the way to Hebden Bridge, we popped in to see if all was fine.

The bees were very quiet, a few dead ones by the entrance, but that wasn’t surprising as it has turned chilly again and they keep inside when it’s like that. The big disaster, though, is the broad beans that were sown in October, ready for an early spring harvest. They were the right variety, but it seems the snow has burnt them beyond saving as the stems were black up to where the snow had been, the top leaves looking sad and green against the brown of the soil.

Everything else seems to be doing ok, the onions and garlic spritting and starting to grow, which is encouraging. The Savoy cabbages are fine, but the kohl rabi have flopped in the cold and will probably be dug in to boost the soil. The rye and clover is patchy but still alive and should put a spurt on when it warms up, more roughage for the soil.

Until it warms up there’s very little to do, so it’s back inside to peruse the seed catalogues and make some choices for the year ahead.

All is quiet on New Year's Day...

Well, maybe for the rest of the street it is, but not here. While everyone else was sleeping off a hangover, I was out drilling, sawing, cementing, bolting and nailing together my first shed. Made from remnants of the chicken run, some Freecycle cladding and some timber scrounged from my dad, and constructed over two days, all it needs now is a narrow door and then I can transfer the pile of bee boxes and plastic crates that have been cluttering up the front room. Won't somebody other than me be pleased?