Monthly Archives: July 2016

A touch of cookery

Apart from the weather (see previous post) it’s been a good day, with a possible new member coming to have a look at us. It was a good day to visit, as we had had a cooking session planned, which ended with us eating cheese scones and lavender biscuits.

Yes, the same lavender biscuits and cheese scones we have been cooking for a couple of weeks now, but people like them and we have the ingredients.

This is the recipe for the scones – it’s an easy one because it uses rapeseed oil (or canola if you want the American translation)  instead of butter. It’s therefore probably healthier for you (though these food fads could be reversed next week), cheaper and considerably easier. My scones never reach that “fine crumb” stage, on account of having hands like bunches of bananas.

Please note at this point – I’m using the cheapest oil for this recipe as it doesn’t need a quality oil. In fact I use the cheapest oil for most purposes – we are self-sufficient in it and that’s a good enough reason for me to think of changing from olive oil if all else is equal.

As usual, it’s difficult to tell where  the truth lies because the we internet contains a web of science, lies and stupidity that makes it tricky to see the truth. Good luck if you’re the sort of person who likes to base decisions on all the facts, because you’re going to have plenty of hard work  looking for them.

The lavender biscuits contain flour, sugar, lavender and butter.

I can’t link to the recipe because Julia has it on a scrap of paper, but there are plenty of recipes about if you want one.

Next step for the scones is to try blue cheese and pear and Stilton and date. Next step for the lavender biscuits is to try a recipe with rosemary.

If you don’t hear any more about them you can take it that they failed.

If the blog stops, you can take it that they were fatal…

Meanwhile, here are some pictures of our fruit and veg, which is finally coming to life. And a cricket – we don’t actually eat them.

Finally, on a sadder note, we lost two chicks today and we aren’t sure why. The keets are looking well and if they are still OK by Wednesday they should be safe. Fingers crossed.

 

 

That monsoon feeling

It was raining when I woke up on Saturday morning, just as dawn was breaking. It carried on raining until it was nearly lunchtime, and when I say raining, it was proper rain. The gutters were full and life as a pedestrian was complicated by the amount of splashing from traffic.

It stopped about mid day but by that time I’d put the rest of the day on hold. I didn’t fancy driving to Peterborough and the chances of finding butterflies or poppies to photograph was minimal.

I went shopping instead and cooked  the normal vegetarian curry (sweet potato and chick pea) for eating later in the week. That’s another advantage of vegetarian food (apart from cost) – it stores easily and rarely poisons anyone. In the evening we had seafood spaghetti (because we could – Number One son hates it, but he is away). Seafood is about the opposite of vegetarian food – I’m always very careful cooking that after an encounter with a bad batch of cockles in the late 70s. Bad memories can linger a long time.

Sunday passed, as Sundays do, with dropping Julia off at work at 6.00 am and an assortment of housework, Pointless and good intentions. We had pork and mushroom casserole in the evening, with stir-fried kale and baked sweet potatoes.

That brings us round to Monday morning. I’ll cover the other events of the morning in another post – for now I’ll just describe the rain.

After a promising start we had lunch, and the rain literally started to hammer down. We were eating lunch at the time, and could see it bouncing six inches back after hitting the roof of the car. I did try to take a photo, but that sort of thing never shows up well. After ten minutes it tailed off, only to hit us again for another session about twenty minutes later.

As you can see from the main picture, it’s clearing now.

We’d been saying that we could do with some rain.

Ironically, the group is outside now, watering inside the polytunnels.

There must be  away of catching it and channelling it inside…

 

 

Fedge, feathers and flutterbys

The pollinators have been active today, but the butterflies haven’t been about much. The difference is that a stiff north westerly breeze leaves plenty of room for a pollinator to operate, but it doesn’t do much for a butterfly. If you have generously proportioned wings they are going to act like sails in these conditions.

As I see them zip past I’m reminded of a story I once read as a child where a small sailing dingy was blown off course by a storm. I can’t recall the name of the book, though I suspect it was probably a device used by several writers, as I’m thinking both C. S. Lewis and Enid Blyton.

 

Main job of the day was tidying up the willow work in the central area – tucking some back in and trimming the rest. The ones that are woven back are mainly secured with plastic cable ties. Even professional willow weavers seem to use them. The fedge is starting to look good, though I’m still not sure it’s so far from being a hedge we need a new word for it.

The trimmings are a great favourite with the goats, who prefer hedges to grass. As a youngster, having read that Native Americans chewed the bark of willow to deaden pain, I gave it a go. It’s probably the bitterest thing I have ever tasted. It’s worse than sloes. The goats love it.

Incidentally, they are in disgrace after breaking out of their pen last night and invading a neighbour’s garden. I think that makes them ‘scapegoats.

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Khobz Kesra

That’s a first, I’ve never used a Moroccan title before. It’s a traditional Moroccan Country bread, according to the recipe sheet, and it looked and smelled really good while it was being cooked.

The bit before that was a bit touch and go because it’s a wet dough and needs some gentle handling. I was offered the chance to make one myself but declined on the basis that it’s more fun to criticise the efforts of other people rather than let them see you up to your earlobes in strands of dough.

I once did a Paul Hollywood fruit bread recipe which needed careful handling (I think he actually recommended using a mixer) but I pressed on with a couple of dough scrapers and a heart full of optimism. It did work. It did taste good. But I still have flashbacks. One day when I start baking again, I will give it another go.

Today’s cookies were the perennial favourites – date and stuff. I like dates, they taste divine (which isn’t a word I usually use as it isn’t very manly; they are only biscuits, after all). The “stuff” is probably oatmeal, as I’m sure it’s full of healthy fibre.

After last session when someone appears to have eaten mine, I was taking no chances (as in I spent a fortnight whining about it), and was allowed two today. Gail muttered something about fermentation and microbiomes. I’ll put a link here because it’s quite interesting. Well, I’m told it is. I was too busy chewing and chasing rooks off the bird feeders. I’m going to have to make it up to her by reading the article thoroughly.

The black birds in the photo are rooks eating wild cherries, though it’s not a good shot. Rooks are a bit sensitive about people pointing things at them and they flew off without giving me a fair chance.

Anyway, it was a small but cheerful crew today – work, holidays and dentists having thinned out some of the regulars. We had a good laugh, excellent conversation, and cookies (though I believe I may have mentioned that already. They were certainly good enough to mention twice.

The rest of the day, which consisted of several sorts of paperwork, failed to live up to its early promise.

In fact I’m sitting here at 18.55 wondering what I’ve really done today. Knocking accounts into shape, writing tactful emails and planning my Big Autumn Project don’t seem like real work.

Julia says that’s because I spend too long on tactful emails (as it isn’t my natural strength) and because my Big Autumn Project seems to consist of playing on Wikipedia, which isn’t proper work.

Time will tell…

 

 

And finally…

It’s the end of the day. I’ve just been drinking tea and eating lavender biscuits. It’s not all been this easy of course; I’ve actually had to spend some time pressing computer keys, walk round with a camera, do a bit of thinking and  and make sure the kitchen is tidy for the bread group.

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I did have to do a bit of toilet cleaning, but even that isn’t so bad. If I had to do it all day and every day I’d probably grow to resent doing it but a couple of times a week isn’t going to kill me. (Unless I catch typhoid but I don’t really think that’s likely).

Basically, toilet cleaning is nature’s way of telling you that you should have worked harder at school, so it’s hard to feel bad about it, as I definitely should have worked harder at school.

I also had an epiphany on the way to work, which is something that doesn’t happen every day. We were talking about applying for grants (we’ve just been turned down for another one) and I said that the time involved in applying must be between 20-40 hours.  You have to research, think, write, listen to unwanted advice and try to match the project you have in mind to the funding criteria of the funder. This is out of all proportion to the time and effort it takes to print a form letter telling you that you’ve failed.

In truth, I may as well have wasted a week playing Solitaire. I say “wasted”, but it’s a skill, and you need to practice to get better.

Or, as I said to Julia, I may as well have spent the time arranging bag packing or collection sessions at local supermarkets. Even in these depressed days, we should be able to raise a few hundred quid that way. We are currently looking at taking on charitable status, and at that time it might be possible to persuade supermarkets to let us in.

It’s a tough gig – I’ve packed quite a few times (helping fund a junior rugby team to Canada and buying shirts for an entire junior section) and I know that getting volunteers is tough, and getting money is even tougher.

I once packed bags (neatly and efficiently) for a well spoken lady who, at the end, said “I won’t be able to give you anything, of course, because I never put money in open buckets.”

Until that point I hadn’t realised I looked like the sort of man who would steal from children. And I really felt the sting of that “of course”.

As a result I went out and bought a dozen of the proper buckets. You secure the top with  a cable tie, put a label across the join and start packing. People give you money and at the end of the day you go home, cut the cable ties, pull off the stickers and (I you are that way inclined) steal the money from the kids.

The only difference is that you are spending money on buckets and cable ties instead of on the kids.

 

 

Julia finds a Ringlet

I can’t believe it!

After several years looking for Ringlets, knowing that they should be present in an area like this, I finally mentioned my frustration at not being able to find one.

When Julia took one of the cameras for a walk to the woods with the group I did not for one moment suspect that she was going to come back and say “I’ve got some pictures of a different sort of butterfly. It has rings under it’s wings too.”

That is a description of a Ringlet. It’s not a rare butterfly, it’s just that I haven’t been able to spot one on the farm. I’ve been looking for years.

Some people have all the luck.

 

The Butterflies arrive!

We haven’t seen many butterflies this year. Even on sunny days we’ve not seen more than half a dozen and I’ve been starting to worry that we were in for a disastrous year.

However, things took a turn for the better today when Julia came back from the lavender patch with reports of 16 Small Tortoiseshell as the headline figure. I had to have a look for myself and found the butterflies dotted about all over the lavender like rubies on velvet. Of course, I exaggerate, they were more like orangey things on purple shrubs, but for a moment I felt in the mood for a simile. Butterflies and sunshine can have this effect on a man.

On a more prosaic level, it gave me a chance to compare new camera with old one (I think the old one won) and several exciting times as I thought I saw new species.

The possible Ringlet turned out just to be a very brown meadow brown but the skipper gave me my first photograph of a Large Skipper. It took me over 20 minutes to identify it when I got the pictures back to the computer, but the pointed antennae (from a picture taken by the old camera) finally solved it for me.

It’s a bit like children – they all look the same to me. Unlike children, of course, I can take lots of photographs without incurring any suspicion.

 

Doing what we’re meant to do

We had a school from the inner city today. Despite being only 15 miles from Nottingham we hardly ever get a visit from one. We did get a few in the first year or two but they seemed to drop out and only the rural schools came. We’re not sure whether it’s the cost of transport or a lack of interest.

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Parents at rural schools are often associated with agriculture so we aren’t really carrying out our mission of educating people about farming. It’s a self-imposed mission so nobody is on our back about it, but you do sometimes wonder what you’re doing.

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So there I was, standing in front of a class, feeling pleased with myself that we were actually spreading the message to people who needed to hear it, when one of the kids threw up.

Julia’s idea of running them round to get rid of surplus energy before passing them on to me might need rethinking.

 

 

 

Tea, Tact and Talent

We sat under the awning to eat lunch and drink freshly brewed mint tea and the first thing I saw was a large reddish brown dragonfly. It was about twelve feet up in the air and flying strongly so after consulting the internet I’m thinking it may have been a brown hawker. They are widespread and common, so it seems like a good ID. I’m always suspicious when people like me (with little knowledge and an internet connection) claim to have seen a rarity. Unfortunately I didn’t have the camera but if I had I doubt I would have got a meaningful shot.

As we ate, I was concious of a lot of movement and raucous calls in the trees that line the boundary. Eventually two wrens popped out. There may have been more, they move so fast I’m never quite sure. Once they decided to show themselves they spent a good ten minutes perching on fence rails and the edges of raised beds. Oh, for that camera again!

I like wrens, though they always sound so cross.

Last Saturday, I spent the afternoon at a food festival run by a local school. It’s completely out of context here, but I’ve nowhere else to put it. I was surrounded by people giving out free food, mainly fruit, which was irritating because I couldn’t get away to eat any. As we packed up I did notice that someone had a poster up claiming they could sell you a vitamin supplement to make your kids more intelligent. They haven’t met mine.

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I suspect that it was mainly snake oil, though the weren’t the only ones peddling a good line in…er…the latest fad. Note how I select my words carefully. Note how I carefully add a link there too, in case anyone thinks I am accusing local vitamin pedlars or being cruel to snakes.

I’d watched Saturday Kitchen before going to the fair and Jay Rayner had stated quite clearly that there was no such thing as a superfood – just a marketing opportunity. Now, I’m not qualified to judge, but I do find merit in his argument that a varied, balanced diet is healthier than a load of superfoods.

Imagine my surprise upon finding myself next to a stand from a well-known supermarket and two staff members who kept saying “It’s a superfood, you know.”

Now, I’m not one to bear grudges, but that particular supermarket branch refused to let me have a day there for bag packing when Nottingham Outlaws Juniors needed new shirts. When I applied to their community fund for backing they turned us down. And when Julia tried to see if there was any way we could work together on the education side we were told that they only worked with farms that supplied them. It’s a good thing that I’m not one to bear grudges, as I say.

I was tempted to quote Jay Rayner, and I was also tempted to say that the best thing about chia seeds is the hour of amusement you get from picking your teeth after eating. But I didn’t, after all, do we really need more sarcasm and ridicule in the world?

Unfortunately, though I’d like to share a photo with you, I don’t think it would be ethical. Plus I’m having trouble cropping it to hide identities

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. However, there’s a message on the shirt – “Farm to Fork – I’m helping children learn where their food comes from”.

Their table was heavy with water melon, mango, avocado, pineapple and chia seed, so I suggest that they must be teaching kids that  a lot of food comes from far away.

The eyes in the top picture are something Julia bought – we are rehearsing for Britain’s Got Talent. We don’t have much talent so we should fit right in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Buzzards, bees and bird song

It feels like summer has finally arrived, though I do realise that I’ve said that before.

The weather station reports and outside temperature of 19 degrees C, the sky is clear and the wind is little more than a baby’s breath (or 2 km per hour from the south, if you prefer facts to fancy).

We tidied up for  Open Farm Sunday and the farmer’s mother is having a significant birthday (and party) towards the end of the month, so there is a lot of gardening going on. She’s actually having two parties (one for family and another for people she likes, as I keep telling her) and I hope I have that sort of stamina when I’m 80.

The downside of all this uncoordinated activity is that the thistles earmarked for goldfinch food and most of the “wild” poppies have been removed. We have some great self-seeded poppies, including shades or red and mauve, and quite a selection of doubles with big pom-pom flowers. Correction, we had some great self-seeded poppies.

The paths between the “trees” in the “woodland” are cut (which means we have mowed between the sticks in the field), the wheat is beautifully green (probably the result of too much rain – you know how farmers are) and the trees in the agroforestry scheme are looking good in their rows.

The general effect is one of standing in the parkland surrounding a stately home.

When we arrived I stood and watched for a few minutes. A buzzard was wheeling overhead, the bees were buzzing in the flower beds (their first major appearance this year) and a blackbird was singing from the hedge.

A grumpy goldfinch was twittering as it perched on a virtually empty feeder. It stared at me accusingly. I stared back, and did not refill the feeder. I do like birds but I’m not going to be bullied by something that weighs less than my watch.