Cowboy Boots & Broken Fingers

Plastered

October 23, 2016chrissyb 19 Comments

I bet you’ve all been on the edge of your seats wondering what’s been happening with that plastering in living room haven’t you? Well sit back and relax while I bring you up to date.

Here’s where we left things.

Ready for gib finishing and painting.

Now don’t get too wildly excited, I’m not completely finished yet. Forget all those 24 hour room renos on ‘The Block’, this is real life. Which means I also get to cook meals, go to work, and fix water pipes when Fencer Phil and his lads ram fenceposts though them with their fancy post driver (more about the fencing project soon). Notwithstanding I would like to (proudly) report that after ten weeks of being bossed around by my brain I have made a start.

What is it with brains? Mine was very vocal in dissuading me from plastering. Whenever I thought about opening a tub of Plus 4, this loop track played — which I would try to interrupt every so often with some more reasonable points.

Brain: ‘Ooooh, that looks tricky’, ‘No, no, I don’t think you’ll be able to do that’, ‘You are going to make mess of it’.
Me: ‘Hold on, we have actually done plastering before you know. On a ceiling. Surely ceilings are trickier than walls’.
Brain: ‘Ah yes, but ceilings have matt paint which hides a multitude of sins, this is way more exacting’. ‘No… [examines wall carefully] No, I definitely don’t think you’re up to it’, ‘You’re going to make such a mess’.

And so it went, around and around, for all those weeks.

Anyway, the other morning I made a deal with my brain. I persuaded her that we’d work on just the 500mm of wall between the corner and the start of the ranch-slider. If it all went bad (Brain: ‘Damn right it will’) I would stop and ring a plasterer to finish the job. If it went well I would stop, have a cup of tea, and celebrate by ringing DIY Guy with the good news.

After much persuasion my brain allows me to make a start.

Well, I guess the outcome is obvious. After 20 mins of sanding it was all going rather swimmingly, and my brain had conceded that maybe things might work out after all. I had a cup of tea. I rang DIY Guy, who spoke suitably encouraging words, and I tackled the rest of that wall; section by section, tea break by tea break. This is the current state of play. Better, yes?

Now. With plastering and gib seal paint. You can see the ‘pine crime’ before pic here.

There’s still lots to do. Painting of course — this is just a primer — but also I’m thinking of using some of the pine we removed from the walls to create a taller skirting board. The one we have is way out of proportion for the ceiling height. Also I’d like to put in some wider window architraves (so perhaps the skirting board I remove could come in handy there?). But wait, there’s more… The reason I’ve left that right hand wall unfinished is that I’m going to create some floor to ceiling bookshelves. Even as I type the Forbearing Husband is on his way home from the Big Smoke with a car full of these. What do you think? Anyone, other than me, always wanted a library ladder?

Mud

October 18, 2016chrissyb 7 Comments

It’s been a while, and I’m still not quite done with that plastering, so here’s a little pony tale for you in the meantime.

Spring is a time of year that those of us responsible for grooming horses approach with heavy hearts. It’s the season in which our equine friends shed their fluffy-like-a-teddy-bear winter coats and find mud puddles to roll in.

Summer – it takes commitment to achieve that extensive mud coverage.

I’ve no idea whether shedding and rolling in mud are connected. Perhaps losing all that hair creates the sort of itch which ponies believe to be best remedied by a good coating of mud. Either that or there’s been a big advertising push by Shiseido in the bottom paddock.

Bonnie – before.

Whatever the reason, the combination of caked on mud and loose hair creates a grooming challenge of epic proportions. Prepare for clouds of pony dust (hint: it’s not half as glittery as fairy dust), and brushes clogged with fluff. I thank my lucky stars for my friend Amy-next-door who loves to brush Bonnie, and will often come over to help out.

Summer – after.

On the plus side, standing in the sun brushing a blissed-out and dozing horse is really rather therapeutic. It’s way more fun than vacuuming the house, and provides the sort of vigorous workout that fits with my thesis; ‘I don’t need a gym membership. I have a farm‘.

Bonnie – after.

Then there is always the opportunity to play at an equine version of Pimp My Ride.

Bonnie with daisies – still channeling Beyonce.

Don’t get too attached to your attempts at beautification though, once everyone is clean and tidy you can usually count on the next round of mud rolling starting within the hour. That’s horses for you, fully committed to fostering the practice of acceptance in their humans.

All Quiet

October 4, 2016chrissyb 6 Comments

You may or may not have noticed, but I’ve been vey quiet the last few days. The Forbearing Husband gets a bit worried when I’m quiet because it usually means I’m scheming (and we all know where my last five year plan got us). In this case though there’s nothing to worry about. I’m just busy …

Clue 1

Clue 2

Clue 3

Plastering! After weeks of procrastination I’ve finally started. Let’s all say ‘Hurrah for living room progress!’. I’ll be back soon with an update. 🙂

Diary of a (Sodden) Farmer

September 25, 2016chrissyb 6 Comments

It’s the first day of daylight saving time and there was torrential rain all night. I got up at 7.30 (that’s 6.30 real time) to give the horses some hay. They looked miserable. The bottom paddock sported a puddle several feet across. I worried for Doug, Juan and Juanita, I do hope they haven’t drowned in their beds.

A quick check on the stream reassured me that it isn’t even halfway up the banks. Plenty of fast rushing water though. It would be a great day to kayak, most of the rocks that usually stop our progress have been covered over.

The stream once the sun came out

Fed chickens. A few small puddles in the chicken run and an overfull water tank. The white chicken with the broken leg (that’s a story for another day) is moving around and the leg looks to be weight-bearing now after nearly 3 weeks. I guess my amateur splinting treatment worked.

Thought I should check on the state of the lane. Halfway down the driveway I see a huge pile of debris. From that point on a lot of water is streaming along the drive. It is forming a large pool on the land next door, and I can see the lane itself will be next for the overflow. A vague memory returns of a conversation at the street party last summer about the lane flooding ‘when the [unknown farming term] at your place gets blocked’. Oh. This will be the blocked [unknown farming term] then.

Go and find the rake and spend best part of an hour clearing the [unknown farming term]. At least I assume that’s what I’m clearing. It’s some sort of ditch like structure anyway. The debris is wet and heavy and made up of pine needles, leaves, twigs and some quite large branches. By the time I’m finished I’m soaked to the skin with rain and sweat.

It was too wet to photograph the deluge, but here's the evidence

It was too wet, and I was too busy to take photos while raking, but here’s the evidence.

Back into the house, leaving most of my clothes at the back door (advantages of having only far-away neighbours). The young dog has been out and about with me, but I have to wake the old dog to give her breakfast. After a cup of tea and some AntiGene granola I feel quite human again. It’s 8am (real time) and it’s stopped raining. As I type this at 8.45 (real time) I’m looking out of the window onto blue skies and brilliant sunshine. The Forbearing Husband returns today from a conference in the Big Smoke. Things are looking up!

The ponies look a lot happier now the rain has stopped.

Off to change: into dry clothes, and onto daylight saving time. Here’s Hone Tuwhare to keep you company.

Rain

Rain
I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain

If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut

And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind

the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground

the steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops

But if I
should not hear
smell or feel or see
you

you would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain

— Hone Tuwhare

Obsession

September 24, 2016chrissyb 19 Comments

I spent a few days this last week away from the farmlet while visiting AntiGene and UnklEd in the Bay of Plenty. In a beautiful collision of schedules, my stay overlapped with that of Cuzzie Ruth, and we all had a lovely catch up.

It was a delightful interlude. As always there was delicious food and lively conversation, attempts to walk off the many excess calories consumed, and a generous serving of op shopping. One night Ruth and I danced to ‘Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two Virgins)’. On repeat. For about 2 hours. There may have been gin and tonic involved.

AntiGene joined the dancing for a time. UnklEd, bless him, smiled indulgently while moving around his (famous-in-our-family) music room adjusting the mixer and the many amps (all Rotel RA-610‘s) to give us awesome sound. Talk about Forbearing Rellies.

Portrait of UnklEd, by AntiGene.

But back to the subject of delicious food. After eating coconut milk yoghurt Ruth and I became completely obsessed with making it. In case you haven’t tried yogurt made from coconut milk you must run out immediately, (Yes. Really. Right now!) and obtain some. It is the most delicious thing ever, and apparently (at least at for the next five seconds until it goes out of fashion), really good for you.

Sadly it is also cripplingly expensive. This is a great shame since neither Ruth nor I, or I assume any of The Readership, are exactly loaded. Fear not though, Ruth and I have unlocked the enigma of coconut yogurt and have successfully created several batches now for next to nix. Here’s how we did it (spoiler for experienced yogurt makers: it’s just like making regular yogurt).

Ingredients. We used the last of the contents of that jar to start this batch

You will need:

2-4 tablespoons of coconut yoghurt for your starter. The ingredients listed on the packaging should contain acidophilus, or ‘live culture’. We used Cathedral Cove brand which has no additives and I bought it from New World ($10 for 500mls). After the first batch you can use your own home-made stuff as your starter.
Coconut milk – we used Kara brand, which from memory was around $7 for 1 litre.
A glass jar or heat resistant plastic container with a lid. An empty jam jar works fine.
A way to keep your incipient yogurt warm for a few hours while it develops. A wide mouth thermos or one of those insulated ‘yoghurt makers’ will work, or you could wrap it in a tea towel and pop it in the airing cupboard. Our thermos came from the Omokoroa op-shop ($4).

What to do:

Sterilise your jar or container in boiling water, don’t forget the lid.
Heat the coconut milk in a saucepan over a low heat stirring constantly, until it is warm, but not hot. Test it with your finger, you are aiming for a temperature you would feel happy bathing a small child in (or for those of you who have avoided bathing small children, about 40C).
Heating the coconut milk.
Transfer the warmed coconut milk to your jar and stir in your starter. You don’t have to be too exact with the amount of starter. We used the last dollop left in the jar after eating most of the contents and just poured our warmed coconut milk into it. You want to stir gently but thoroughly.
Seal the jar and keep your yogurt baby warm for 8-12 hours.
Transfer jar of newly started yogurt to a wide mouth thermos, or wrap it up and pop in the airing cupboard.
Test after 6-8 hours. The coconut milk should have solidified a bit and be tasting yogurt-y. If you like a more tangy flavour leave it to develop longer, for a smoother flavour test earlier next time. The culture will stop developing when once it cools down in the fridge.
Try not to eat it all at once.

Cousin Ruth is fuzzy with excitement as we make yogurt

Ruth, all blurry with excitement as we make coconut yogurt! This was batch number two.

So, those are my stories from the last week. What have you been up to? Anyone as obsessed by a Father John Misty song, or by coconut yogurt, as these two cuzzies?

Update: I just tested our recipe with canned ‘Fair Trade’ coconut milk since I couldn’t find ‘Kara’ brand at the local New World. Although it tasted like yogurt after 10 hours ‘developing’ this version stayed very liquid and I feared it was a fail. It’s okay though, after being in the fridge for a while it has firmed up and is delicious. 🙂

Snail Patrol

September 19, 2016chrissyb 12 Comments

I like to think I’m a believer in the permaculture ethic of fair share, but really, enough is enough. Since my autumn planting of kale, the humans in this ecosystem have managed to scrounge only two meals from 12 plants. The rest was gobbled by gastropods.

Cute is as cute does (photo: mirror.co.uk)

Northland snails are an agile and culinary venturesome bunch. Things you might never imagine as part of a snail diet have disappeared down their little gullets. The lavender and eau-de-cologne mint have both suffered, and the perpetual onions seem to be a current menu favorite. Someone once told me that when kale plants get tall enough the slimeys give up climbing. Not so the Northland crew, they just slither up that kale stem and keep right on munching.

Garden after dark

Thus, I’ve declared war, and now, on any given night you can find me outside with a headlamp harvesting slugs and snails. Since I imagine I’m not the only one facing an invasion of invertebrates I thought I would let you in on my tips and tricks for how to run a successful snail patrol:

For collection use a deep receptacle with a lid. I started off using an ice cream carton, but I’ve since adjusted my technique. It gets annoying to be constantly peeling your captives off the top of the container as they try to make their escape.
Put a few sacrificial lettuce leaves in the bottom of your dungeon. This (see point one) helps to keep your slimy enemies entertained and in one place. I’m not sure why English uses the words snail’s pace, and sluggish to convey slow movement. When it comes to escaping from capture these guys can move.
Collections seem to run in cycles. One night I find mainly snails, on another mainly slugs. It’s not clear what the controlling variables are for this phenomenon. Snails are fairly easy to pick up, but slugs are cold slimy things. Wear gloves if you’re squeamish.
Remember to look at each plant from several different angles. According to this article snails have only two brain cells, but I swear they know how to dodge behind a leaf when they see me coming.
Examine the ground just underneath your plants. Some slugs employ a drop and roll strategy.
When it comes to the end game, humane methods of gastropod slaughter are generally suggested to be stomping or freezing. ‘Hello friends! Why yes, that is an ice cream carton of snails in our freezer’.
If you are not game to kill them you need to know that research conducted on British snails showed that they have a homing instinct (no, really!). To avoid repopulation you need to move the enemy captives at least 20 metres away from your garden. I suspect that with the Northland snail’s innate athleticism I will need to allow for more like a 100 metre range.

My most recent means of ‘permanent disposal’ is expatriation to the chicken run. There I figure the crawlers have at least a sporting chance. There is the possibility of some of making it to the compost heap to live out their lives in their role as decomposers. For the less fortunate who become calories contributing to the laying of our breakfast eggs, at least their demise is a useful one. Seems like a reasonable deal to me.

Okay dear Readership, any tips for snail control? The comment box awaits.

Calf Club

September 11, 2016chrissyb 10 Comments

Speaking of my friend Amy-next-door, and of spring lambs, here is Amy with her ‘Calf Club’ lamb ‘Zebie’.

Zebie is a girl lamb, so named because she is black and white.

Calf Club, also known as Ag Day, is an annual spring event at rural NZ schools. Each student adopts a new-born calf, lamb, or goat and takes on the responsibility of raising and training it. On calf club day the animals go to school and kids show how well their ‘calf’ can be led with a halter and rope, come when it is called, and maybe even do a trick or two.

Sounds like fun, and judging by the amount of time Amy is putting into the project (she was up at 5 this morning she tells me) I bet Team Amy–Zebie will do great.

Okay, I confess, I really had absolutely nothing interesting to say here. This whole post is just a thin excuse for showing you a cute lamb picture. Still who wouldn’t want to see a cute lamb picture? You can vote for or against cute lamb pics in the comments.

New Digs

September 7, 2016chrissyb 5 Comments

Some of you will be relieved to know that Stu the rabbit has gone to a better place — by which I mean a new home with a kid from the local school. Really, whatever did you think I meant?

Not actually Stu (photo credit: zeld.dvrlists.com)

Not actually Stu — pun intended (photo credit: alexhydephotography.com)

Stu spent a few days here, eating prodigious amounts of silver beet, rocket and dandelion, and housed in a nice snuggly hutch in the chicken run. When my friend Amy-from-next-door came over to brush the ponies I introduced her to the bunny. She immediately pointed out that Stu is actually a girl rabbit (nine year olds who’ve grown up on farms know these things).

Amy would have liked to take Stu home herself, but she already has two pet bunnies and she couldn’t persuade her mum to accept another one. Instead she pitched a wild rabbit adoption spiel to her classmates at the nearby rural school. This may or may not have been shored up by the cute photo from last Monday’s post. She must have been pretty convincing because one of those farming families took the bait, and Stu left yesterday afternoon to start a new life in a far-flung Northland hamlet.

Goodbye Stu (or perhaps we should call you Su), we hope you’ll have a warm hutch and plentiful greens.

Amy, I’m pretty sure, has a bright future ahead of her selling sand at a beach!

Exhibit C

September 4, 2016chrissyb 10 Comments

You know how I jokingly said I might have missed a fruit tree off the farmlet list? Well, it actually happened. I recently discovered a previously uncatalogued tree.

I know… You’re wondering how I could possibly not have noticed it before, seeing as how we’ve been here for a whole year. Have I been wandering about with my eyes on the ground looking for weeds the whole time I hear you ask? Hmm, well, there has been a lot of that, but it’s not the full story. Here let me explain.

The plant in question occupies an out-of-the-way spot, sandwiched between an old bean fence, and the side of the bottom paddock. In addition it has, for the last 11 months or so, been posing very convincingly as a boring overgrown shrub. In fact it only came to my attention at all because it had started to push across the ponies’ electric tape and cause a short. I decided to attack it with the loppers, pending an Order of Execution on the grounds said shrub had caused a disturbance to the peace. [Evidence for the prosecution: Cantering hoofbeats at 2am as two ponies pushed through shorted out electric tape (oh yes Your Honour, that happened).]

Anyway, I digress… It was only as I maneuvered under the lower branches to deliver a limb-detaching strike that I spotted this odd looking fruit.

Mystery fruit

Forbearing Husband spent his teenage years on a tropical island, so naturally I picked the strange fruit and rushed up to the house to ask what it was. He remembered eating them. He remembered they tasted good. Despite screwing up his face, scratching his beard and eating at least one square of chocolate (haha) as a memory aid, he couldn’t tell me what they are called.

That’s okay Forbearing Husband. I have Google Images.

And there it was.

It’s a cherimoya. We sampled it alongside blue cheese and rice crackers.

The following weekend, when Deborah visited, we opened it up. I had a cold at the time so I really can’t give you any decent description of the taste, but Deborah liked it a lot. ‘Yum! A bit like vanilla custard!’ she proclaimed.

Just as well she’s enthusiastic, it appears that cherimoyas are really not interested in managing their own reproduction*, and demand hand pollination. It’s okay though, I’ve got a couple of little paintbrushes at the ready. You and me, Deborah.

I guess this means a stay of execution for our felon, until further notice.

* In truth this is because the little beetle thought to pollinate cherimoya in their native South American habitat got left behind when they emigrated. Most careless I say.

Spring Things

September 1, 2016chrissyb 8 Comments

It’s officially the first day of spring, and Northland has turned on just the right kind of weather.

Such a pretty day.

Around the farmlet spring things are popping up everywhere.

Narcissus in the lane.

Extra eggs in the laying boxes (and a few girls wanting to be broody).

The promise of future strawberries (thanks to CW who gave us plants, and to the bees for pollination services).

Tomato (‘Black Krim’ and ‘Cocktail’), courgette, coriander, and basil. Hopefully popping up sometime soon.

Of course no collection of spring photos is complete without a few lambs. Here are some I spotted the other day while heading through Dargaville to visit The Horsewoman. Yes, I thought you’d like them.

Triplets and a concerned auntie.

Let’s hope this warmer weather is going to be sticking around. The woodshed is looking quite depleted, and a lot less photogenic than it was in autumn.

It’s okay, we do have another stash of wood to see us through.

So that’s us. What spring things are going on at your place?