Tag Archives: fedge

The Dogwood Fedge

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We used to have a willow fedge on the farm, which was quite useful. They make good windbreaks, are sustainable and don’t take a lot of skill – just some thought and a bit of hard work.

I hadn’t thought of the word “fedge” for several years but it came back to me this week. So did “pressure graft”. It means the bits of branch pushing against each other an eventually joining up.

I’m not sure we need a new word to describe them fence or hedge would do the job without being mashed together in a new word.

When we went to Harlow Carr we saw a development we hadn’t seen before – a woven dogwood fence. Or hedge. Actually, I suppose there is a use for fedge now I think about it – it does save the effort of making a decision over use of the word hedge or fence.

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Dogwood Fedge at Harlow Carr

It’s an interesting decorative border, I’ll take more photos as the year moves on. They willow ones get quite leafy – I’m intrigued to see how the dogwood version does.

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Dogwood Fedge at Harlow Carr – rhubarb forcing pots in the background

The Wasteland

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No, not the poem, just a judgement on the remains of our old Butterfly Garden. We had a look while we were visiting the farm on Friday to visit Men in Sheds.

There is nobody in the centre or kitchen anymore, as things didn’t work out. This is a shame as they did a lot of work and it has presumably cost them a lot of money. It may still be costing them money if they signed a lease.

Sadly, without our (free) help, the farm appears unable to maintain the place.

Standing and looking at the place we spent five years working you half expect a tumbleweed to roll past, or a loose door to creak in the wind.

Willow fedge turning into trees
Willow features in need of renovation
Dog roses running wild

The willow work is out of control, the buddleias are going mad and the log xylophone has been torn out.

In other beds the shasta daisies, the borage and the oregano have all been ripped out.

Where are the daisies?
Abandoned spade
Barren Borage Bed

As a result we didn’t see many as many pollinators as we should have been and there were no brown butterflies, which used to love the oregano.

Peacock
Red Admiral
Mint Moth

 

It’s seven months since we had to close down (or were evicted, to be more accurate) and the negative feelings are gradually fading as we move other things.

It’s also time to re-evaluate the title and content of the blog, as it’s clearly no longer the story of a Nottinghamshire Care Farm. I’ve been thinking of this for a while, and putting it off as it seems so final.

Fedge, feathers and flutterbys

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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.

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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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