Circle of Life.

I'm not as prolific a writer as I used to be. Sometimes this is because I'm mad busy and life gets in the way of talking about life, other times I overthink it and the moments are lost. Occasionally I know I have something momentous to impart, but by the time I've treated a lamb, fed the alpaca or checked a fence, I have forgotten I ever had a point to make. I also try to make a point of not blogging, posting or tweeting when I'm in poor spirits. Over the past few weeks this has been my excuse, I have been a little low. I'm not depressed, I know friends with depression and I'm aware that this is not me, I've just been a little low.

The weather in August was quite inconsistent and we almost lost our hay, (the positive being that we did not.) Our lambs thrived. We birthed three gorgeous cria, with more due in April, and I was determined not to be disappointed that they were all boys. We've had a bit of a spate of boys in recent years and I longed for some girls. The alpaca babies took a longer time to arrive than expected, also a consequence of the weather and I was restricted to the site, awaiting babies. It makes you a little stir-crazy. But they were happy and healthy when they arrived. Then suddenly one was not; happy or healthy. I worked hard with our vet, but the baby developed an infection, pneumonia set in and he passed away. It hit me hard.

Rest in peace little Diablo.

It's taken three weeks but I'm back on track. The farmers say 'livestock, deadstock,' it's a bit harsh but it means that if you breed livestock, you'll have times when issues occur and you won't be able to save that animal. It's life. I realise I haven't quite come to terms with that. Born in St John's Wood, I'm definitely a smallholder rather than a farmer.

My family, friends and my garden have kept my spirits high. It's hard to be down when you have special people in your life. Nature's bounty is always uplifting and it's hard to be down when the kitchen garden groans with fruit, veg and flowers for the house, dahlias scream hello in their showy way, grapes are ripening, sweet pea are filling the air with heavy scent and fat hedgehogs waddle gown the path at dusk. Life is good and I'm grateful.

Selling our range of natural fertilisers at Chelsea Flower Show and Hampton Court was fabulous this year again, thanks to Todd's Botanics and their wonderful team, of which I now count myself as a virtual member. Don't forget to order Lou's Poo Beans if you are planting spring flowering bulbs and our limited edition Christmas bags are on sale now. www.TheArchersAtTheLarches.com.

Emerging from hibernation: The Lesser Spotted Archers at The Larches

I've been busy here... at night, instead of blogging, I sleep. Sorry.

Mind you, during the day [my days seem to comprise more hours than the standard 24] I squeeze in a marketing job, minimal housework, dinners etc, bottle washing, lamb feeding, the chickens and, now that my garden is just beginning to recover from 18 months of rubbish weather, a spot of seed sowing and land management. I'm considering a day off tomorrow at Malvern Spring Show, though that said, it's pouring from the sky today and if this weather continues I might just join the lambs in the stables who are huddled around a heat lamp!

Lambs are lively little things and love nothing more than play time with the sproglets! [If you can't see this video in email format click the title of the post to be transported to my blog.]

I've three Bantam hens sitting on approximately 15 eggs. None of the eggs belong to the Bantams, instead they are sitting on a mixed brood of Welsummers, Salmon Faverelles and Heinz57's! I'm praying that the hatchlings will be mainly hens rather than roosters but you never can tell. With luck they'll hatch next week when the weather may again improve, it's dreadful at the moment.


Here at The Larches we favour animals being free to wander. Our chooks are free range as soon as they're big enough to withstand the advances of the two cats. Recently we released the, now grown, Salmon Faverelles; the 10yo's rare breed chickens. This did not go well; our original rooster, Road Runner, who is half the size of Lucky the new boy but twice as aggressive, decided to pick a fight to the death with the new interloper. But for The Hubby's interference, one or both roosters would have needed hospitalization.


After spraying combs and necks with purple antiseptic spray we returned the rare breed chickens to their 3m x 3m enclosure. Sad.


Wondering what to do next, Hubby and I pondered our options until a neighbour appeared asking if we had a spare rooster to take care of his 40+ hens! Was he sent by St Francis of Assisi I wondered? A summit of Archers was required to see if the sproglets would agree terms with the neighbour, money was never an option, the children were more concerned that rooster would be sad at being forced into exile. In the end we all agreed that the neighbour could 'borrow' rooster and that afternoon we placed him in a dark box and walked down the bridlepath, passing one neighbour's land, across the small village road and down the hill to our next neighbour's property.


We locked rooster in a shed located a the bottom of field on the neighbour's land and 40 hens clucked at him through the door. He was clearly furious but he needed to be locked in for a couple of days, with food and water of course, in order to imprint his new home to his memory.


Two days later he'd escaped. He was soon spotted by our closest neighbour as he jumped into his hen compound. Before Road Runner had time to completely murder our neighbour's prize rooster, he was caught (again) and taken back to his new home.


Two further days and he had escaped again, this time he avoided our neighbour and came back home to us, his real home. Who knew roosters had homing pigeon instincts?!


I get the hint. He can stay. The sproglets and our hens are delighted. The rare breed chooks will need a bigger compound! Sheesh!

St. Patrick's Day white stuff....

As we toddled to bed last night Hubby remarked on the snow. I thought he was joking, having heard no mention of it on the forecast. Peering out into the darkness across the driveway and towards the fields I could see my black car was white!

I'm in need of sun. I don't mean holiday-in-the-Caribbean kind of sun, just a bit of blue sky and brightness that is a usual spring here in Blighty. I feel as if I have seen grey skies or fog-fug or blue-black rain skies for nigh on 18 months.

The other day I began fantasising about the creation of a giant hair dryer, pointed at the sky, diverting cloud cover, pollution and hopefully the ruddy jet stream. [Oxford and Cambridge get your thinking caps on.]

Note to self: Get off the soap box now!

OK, I'm back. Positive mental altitude required.

On an up-note, the sweet peas I planted in October are romping along and so, two weeks ago, I took these pots and some pots of perpetual peas planted in December and placed them on a table in the walled garden. The table faces south east and their backs are against a 25' Shropshire stone wall, home to our gossipy sparrows and tits.

I am always amazed at the resilience of sweet peas, if they have been grown hard they merely bow their heads to frost or snow. Obviously if frost was sustained I would have protected them but fortunately the white stuff has been manageable this year.

Today is traditionally the day to plant potatoes; St Patrick's Day. The snow has rather put me off. Instead I will don boots and put on a good coat to open up the chickens and check on the sheep. Then I might sow some seeds or have a spring clean of the potting shed. Good jobs for a Sunday. Hubby and Son are creating a wooden, stand-alone, nest box for the 10yo's Salmon Faverelle chickens, as they've grown so enormous they have begun squashing their own eggs in their coop. If I'm feeling robust I may even barrow some muck to the raised beds, though that may be tricky if the ground is frozen again under the snow.

This afternoon we are hunting eggs, the chocolate kind, at a school event. Here's hoping the organisers haven't hidden all white chocolate eggs or we may never find them!

Till next time.

Lou

Solar recharge required....

It has been busy here. The builders finished some weeks ago and handed the house back to us in good condition, that, it seems was the signal for us mortals to begin painting and decorating.

It is fairly loathsome painting onto new plaster, the first coat, a 50/50 mix of paint and water is drunk thirstily by the surface and in my opinion newly plastered walls can happily drink coats two and three too. Maybe that's where the phrase plastered comes from. You can save money by buying the cheaper industrial sized pots of paint, far preferable to the Dulux Once brand, as the price and not the fumes, makes me light headed. I haven't even ventured to enquire as to the price of the Farrow and Ball-and-chain paint, believing the old adage of  'If you've got to ask the price etc.......'Mind you, though the monumental pot of cheaper paint is a third of the price, one still needs to apply 4 hefty coats to get the desired finish. Bor-ring!

We have completed the decor of the new family bath shower room in a zingy blue and crisp white and I have finished painting the entrance porch in a cream [can't bring myself to say magnolia] so there's just the downstairs loo to do in RED. So that's it for the renovated areas, just the rest of the house to do then !!

Patiently watching the renovation, the 9yo has been making noises off and thanks to our constant excursions to DIY stores, (poor kids,) two match pots of gaudy paint: one purple and one rusty red along with a purple lamp have been procured. It appears it is her room next.

Thanks to the delightful weather, with monsoon wet stuff and temperatures above 10°, the fields have grown ridiculously, we have borrowed a herd, flock, gaggle, cloud of sheep as it appears our three and a half lambs are not up to the job and they are making inroads to eat themselves back to daylight.

Yesterday, when a brief lull appeared in the storms, I got out on the mower and drove down Home Field, making a little track to the allotment for my wheelbarrow. [It will make it easier to transport the rotten strawberries to the house..... sarcasm: lowest form and all that malarkey...] Then I continued on and mowed around the cookout zone, affectionately known as Stonehenge, should be Woodhenge really... or Waterworld. Peering into the dug out fire pit I couldn't even see the fire baskets at the bottom of the hole, thanks to the rain water.

2011

Two days ago I sent Hubby off to work with his sandwiches and a boxed racing pigeon. He said it was an interesting journey; the pigeon was very grumpy and spent the hour doing Darth Vader impressions. He'd been blown off course and had taken refuge in the stables where we'd managed to read his leg bands. Going online we'd alerted his owner and 'ta-daaa' off he went home.

'You'd think he'd be less grumpy,' I remarked to a neighbour, 'I fed him corn and gave him a lovely soft bed.'

'Probably didn't want to go back to the owner, maybe he liked living in the stables.'

I felt guilty then but I really don't want any more waifs or strays... no. more. Queenie the lamb is positively the last this year and I'm fairly sure I'm cured of cade lambs now; with 4 hourly feeds I couldn't even take the sproglets on good outings this half term. They loved the lambs but were unamused by the lack of entertainment.

We did manage one trip out, we visited Hereford's Hampton Court. We've been before but it's still a treat and the 9yo and the 7yo are such cheap dates and can be bought for the price of an ice cream!

Roll on the real summer......

Sorry about the weather....

Just a quick apology! Last week, Monday to be precise, I put a tent up. It was my cunning plan to keep the house clean for the summer. We lasted one, lousy night, as that was the night the monsoon started. It hasn't stopped raining since. Clearly that is my fault and therefore I'd like to grovel at the feet of the UK and say,

'I'm sorry! OK?'

I really can't be arsed to take the soggy tent back down at the moment so it'll have to stay up till at least next Wednesday. Please be advised to expect pants weather until this time.

Actually I feel really cool having a weather-making tent. Might sell it on ebay.... Oo, can't, it's not mine!!! A. if you're reading this, you've got a really magical tent that I'm carefully minding for you...