Lambing on the couch.

Last night was my 8th on the couch in the sitting room. The couch is fine, though I could do with it being about 2ft longer, so as I don't have to poke my legs off the side/stick them up on the arms/curl them foetal-style.  The benefits of being on the couch far outweigh the negatives; I can cough, blow my nose, [flu while lambing, of course] stoke the fire, make coffee, watch the cctv for signs of lambing in the barn and watch tv: multitasking, all without disturbing the rest of the family.

The lambs are appearing slowly and the latest arrivals are triplet girls. The first lamb arrived naturally and was so tiny I feared I may have to rear her myself, but Cocoa instantly mothered her. Next lamb was taking too long to appear so I helped a little and she was a good size. Finally Cocoa, tired from licking and loving her two new daughters, lay down to try to deliver the last lamb. This lamb was enormous and seemed to be stuck halfway, coming out Superman style. It took a fair bit of pulling by me before the lamb was free in a great whoosh of fluids. All lambs seem to be thriving and as I have no suitable foster mums at the moment, I may leave Cocoa to raise all three and supplement the tiny one with some extra feeds.

There were no new arrivals last night, giving me a chance to catch up on some sleep. When I'm not sleeping my choice of tv through the night is almost exclusively food related. Greedy guts. Loving the Hairy Bikers Bakeation and I've discovered a wonderful programme called Destination Flavour: Japan with chef Adam Liaw, explaining Japanese cuisine. So interesting, love learning about new techniques and flavours.

It's 6am now and the sun, though not warm, is sending a lovely glow to the land. I'm off to check the barn and the sheep and feed the alpaca girls in the fields. Happy Easter all, enjoy your chocolate!

Cheating at Gardening: Free Plants

At the end of January I decided it was time to get gardening again. I sowed a few seeds and a few more and a few more. My greenhouse is too cold still for seedlings so I have used any space in the kitchen, utility room and hallways and I have a feeling the family will shortly need to check into a hotel.....

In February I foolishly popped into a well known garden centre  for 'just a look' and left clutching some gorgeous fuchsia plug plants and a couple of clematis. These plants are doing splendidly and so today I have decided to tripple my investment. The 8 annual fuchsia have become 24 and the 2 clematis have become 8. Obviously I took cuttings. I'm no Monty, but I'm pretty sure I followed advice given on the web and am hopeful that my new babies will thrive. [Even if I can't spell Fushcia/Fuscia on their labels!!!]

Having taken cuttings from these plants, I fed them well with Lou's Poo plant tea and the clematis were repotted to larger pots with a good layer of Lou's Poo Beans at their roots.

A normal day..... !!!!

So, it was a normal Saturday. The children got ready for school (Saturday school and sport matches being the norm for us...) The 12yo had a singing exam in a far off place, a mere 50 miles from home after dropping the 10yo to school, so off we went.

Exam went well (fingers crossed for good results) and by 1pm we Archers were all back home.

After a snatched lunch in the baking sun, it was time to see to the sheep. We rounded them up, stuffed them in the stables and brought them out, one by one, to a makeshift race where we each had a job: There were ear tags to clip in, worming injection to administer, feet to check and a spray paint brand to be given to the lambs who would stay on farm as breeding ewes.

It didn't all go to plan; two lambs escaped in the process but were eventually caught and sorted.

By 8pm family Archer had showered, (absolute necessity, in fact; thinking of burning the jeans I had been wearing!!!!) and were sat in the garden, surrounded by cats and chickens, consuming a take-out Chinese.

By 9pm my back insisted I go and lie down and so we all piled into our bed. I conked out, no doubt snoring over Harry Potter film, but all family members seemed quite happy.

This morning a cat, Tabby, woke me at 4.30am... Being as I'd slept from 9pm (a mere 7.5 hours) I was ok about this and duly followed him downstairs to give him biscuits and make myself a coffee. Turns out he was actually telling me (Lassie-style) that the sheep flock was in the garden eating my flaars!

In pjs and wellies I set about rounding up 30 sheep from the garden who had discovered that self-seeded rocket was delicious! Tabby looked on, not interested in auditioning as a sheep dog.

And now I am sat, coffee in hand, so many jobs to do: cleaning, ironing, washing, plant those blasted tumbling toms into the hanging baskets, check on the soon-to-be-mums in the alpaca fields, pack Poo for customers, water garden, pick strawberries before the blackbirds do, mend fence where sheep keep getting through, wash floors and bathrooms, finish a business plan, sort lunch for Grandma visit..... So many jobs, that I can't do any of them.

So I'll just sit awhile and watch the flowers grow.

Alpaca babies...

So, it's hot. The alpaca were sheared last Wednesday and just as well, as Bracken produced a stonking baby boy just three days later. Phew! (JIT: Expert planning obviously...... cough, cough)

http://www.thearchersatthelarches.com/products/lou-s-poo

Larches Enzo

Larches Enzo http://www.thearchersatthelarches.com/products/lou-s-poo

Larches Enzo http://www.thearchersatthelarches.com/products/lou-s-poo

He weighed in at 8.9kg and two days later was 9.4kg. Mum is happy and healthy and feeding him beautifully. All we need now is another few trainee Lou's Poo Producers playmates to be born.... keep your fingers crossed please.

http://www.thearchersatthelarches.com/products/lou-s-poo

Gardening in Pictures

Though the sun has been missing from this spring and the temperatures have therefore been reserved, the garden is still thriving thanks to Lou's Poo, Dried Alpaca Fertilizer and the lush rainfall. 

Our garden (ex paddock c1960 really,) has always been a tadge rough cottage garden; the grass is coarse and the moles have been very naughty. However, the Hubby is now an expert mole-catcher, ably assisted by the cats, and the mower is trying to tame the grass. In order to divert the eye from the rubbish lawn, I planted mini-meadows in wooden raised beds last year filling a metre square with our magical alpaca poo and tons of plants, mainly perennials or re-seeders. Eh voila! this year we have been rewarded by pretty mini-meadows that afford us tons of cut flaars for the house... win, win.

Posh Pasta Purloined....

Benny the panther

I'm reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed. It is fan-bloody-tastic. (Now my second favourite book after The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx.) The honesty of Wild smacks you right on the nose and while I have few tales to match such a cathartic adventure, I have decided to bear my soul today and hang the consequences: (Probably no guests to the house ever again....)

This morning, after seeing to all the outdoor creatures, trudging through the snow with feed and water, my hat pulled down against the icy wind, I was very happy to be back in my kitchen. The log burner took the edge off the sharp day and a steaming cup of coffee soon had me toasty inside.

Unusually I listened to silence, no Radio 4, no podcast in my ears. That's why I heard the cracking sound.

At first I thought the broken window [daughter's football antics last summer!] in the dairy (the walk-in larder), 'mended' by Hubby, had become 'unmended;' the plastic sheeting crackling in the gale, but no. This noise was intermittent: teeth cracking on something hard?

I rushed to find a cat.

Back at the dairy door with a sleepy Benny, I waited to see if the noise was still a feature. Two seconds later and Benny was out of my arms, pushing the dairy door ajar. He was at once transformed into a panther. I slipped into the room behind him and closed the door.

We worked as a team, he searched an area, looking at me to move a shelf, box or tin. I noticed that a brand new packet of posh pasta, purchased in France and saved for a special occasion, was now open, a hole gnawed in its shiny wrapper. This was war. I slowly pulled out each drawer of the tall, wooden apple store and Benny and I were rewarded with the sight of a long, slender tail disappearing behind a small shelf.

By emptying the shelf of foods and then slowly tipping it towards me, I created a gap. Benny leapt into the void and after a second or two of invisible scrabbling, appeared holding a fat house mouse, its head engulfed within Benny's dark mouth. Jumping to the floor Benny stood by the dairy door. My task as doorman complete, the panther exited into the kitchen proudly, disappearing with his catch through the cat-flap.

Poor mouse but hey-ho, nobody but me gets to open the posh pasta!

To those invited to stay over/to dinner etc any time soon....

1. I understand if you cancel 
2. I can promise that we're not having the remains of that pasta for dinner..... mind you, with lots of salted, boiling water..... snigger... 

So, though not as Wild as Cheryl, I feel like a slovenly housewife and that's all I'm revealing for now... 

Saved by a cat. Yay!

Another catch brought in by Benny (from outside this time) in 2010.... ughhh!

Wild - Movie 

Garden Planning - Sweet Pea

Sweet Pea, an essential part of my garden year. Even sowing them is an act of optimism, being as I place the gorgeous satisfying pea seeds into a pot now, in Autumn, to be planted out in early spring. 

Here's my 'How To Guide'. You will need the following:

1. Sweet Pea Seed
2. Good sized pots
3. Compost (maybe some added nutrition from Lou's Poo, Dried Alpaca Manure) 
4. Toilet Roll insides
5. Plant Markers
6. Water

Choose your seed. Personally I save mine from the best of my plants.

Gather good sized pots and half fill with compost. At this stage I add a small handful of Lou's Poo, Dried Alpaca Manure as my seedlings will be in these pots for at least 4 months. Remember alpaca manure is not a hot manure, it's gentle and won't damage the seedlings, plus it will take a while for their little roots to penetrate to this layer.

Next add your toilet roll insides and fill these with compost.

Choose your seed, I like to grow the same colour in one pot and another colour in another pot.

I generally only add a few seeds per roll.

Label each toilet roll. This seems extreme but in the spring, when you gently separate these rolls into their own good-sized plant pot, you'll be glad they are already labelled.

Water well and place in a sheltered area. Personally I don't put them in the greenhouse, I treat them as meanly as I can, though I do afford them the shelter of the walled garden. They need protection from slugs and snails and if there was a sustained frost I might cover them but otherwise don't molly-coddle them.

As soon as the seedlings get to be about 4" tall I pinch them out, nipping off any extra growth. I do this every so often, till early spring, I pinch them out again and again, letting them grow just a little bigger each time, to ensure strong, bushy plants rather than tall, sickly ones.

Go on, sow some sweet pea now, you'll be so glad you did next summer.

Lou
xx

A Gentle Autumn....

The 11yo and Fudge, one of the baby alpaca, really do love each other. While I'm busy with hay or food troughs or poo picking, they frolic, snuggle, chill. Occasionally, Sproglet1 will bring her iPod into a paddock, sit on the bank and play, keeping me company. Fudge, who is not too keen on Minecraft, is content to sit beside the girl resting a Thompson Twins hair-styled head on Sproglet's lap. They are an item.

See? Almost no difference.....

Thompson Twins

Last night was a particularly lovely evening, though overcast, it was warm and dry and, having harvested the last of the pumpkins..... and a black cat for luck! [Honest, the 11yo and I are not witches!] we set off to see to the alpaca. Sproglet2 couldn't help as he was detained by Anthony Horowitz!

The alpaca girls were in a particularly social mood so we chatted about what was on telly last night....

Discussed the latest fashions (in welly boots)

..... and then had a snog..

and something to eat. Ouch!

Don't forget to sign up for the Newsletter from my new website TheArchersAtTheLarches.com 

Lovely products for lovely people.

Shearing.... never again..

For several years now I have been convinced that I have the talent to make a marvelous sheep shearer. This belief is without basis and indeed without one jot of practical experience. Last year, our first year of shearing, my back decided to ruin my chances of learning, (too much extreme gardening with Lou's Poo Alpaca Poo!) and so I was forced to outsource the stripping of my girls to our kind neighbour.

This year I was fighting fit. I enlisted the help of our long-suffering neighbour again and he, in turn, brought his apprentice; his son. The paraphernalia they brought with them was amazing.

As I tried to construct a pathetic holding pen out of knackered hurdles in a tiny paddock outside the American barn, they suggested simply herding the sheep into one of the huge empty birthing stables. Hmmm, didn't think of that. Then they stood about a bit and looked at the metal joists high above our heads, before rooting about in their paraphernalia kit and hoisting a walloping chain up and over the bar. Next they attached a motor that weighed A LOT, followed by a pipe attached to the motor, and finally the shear.

Then they looked at me.

The hubby, deliberately dressed in his office clothes! the boy, the girl and her pal from school, all stood about looking at me. Oh poo.

I vaguely remember being asked if I was ready to go but clearly I looked so ashen that our neighbour suggested he do the first one, then I could go from then on. Right. Easy.

The first sheep, Cocoa, chosen for her monumental fleece, was naked in no time. There was no blood or histrionics. My turn.

I simply couldn't even remember where to start... was it the bum or the neck? Not. A. Clue.

Apparently it was the tummy followed by the nether regions and one lower side. Then the neck (which is terrifying) up the tummy and over the back as far the spine, plus a bit...... [are you lost yet?..... I was]

So, my victim was Pink. I raised her on the bottle in 2012 and helped her lamb her twins in 2014. Here I was clearly going to kill her.....

In truth, I didn't actually kill her, though I do confess to having nicked her several times. Having almost completed the job (though not well) I had to defer to farmer's son as I suddenly came over all Victorian and faint #pathetic and had to sit down. I was 75% there but couldn't yet claim to have sheared a whole sheep. I strongly suspected that I'd found an activity that I wasn't equipped for.The 11yo sprayed Pink's cuts with purple antiseptic while looking at me with regret. Pink was ushered from the barn, bleating and looking like mobile graffiti.

In my defence I was born in St John's Wood. The issue is trying to juggle a wriggly sheep, a life threatening weapon and a non compliant 48 year old body. So annoying.

The next sheep was thrust into my willing arms. I was determined to complete my quest. This time, bearing in mind that it was 24 degrees outside, I discarded my thick sweater. Now, added to the wriggly sheep, a life threatening weapon and a non compliant 48 year old body was the realization that my bosoms might fall out of my vest. Unfortunately half way through this shear my sheep companion decided to have a hissy fit and, in my desperate attempt to gently restrain it and my lady parts, I accidentally sheared the farmer.

I have now retired from shearing. Thank you for sharing this mortificado experience with me.

[Please note, my apologies for the orientation of the video - clearly video uploads are a mystery to me too.... If you can't see the video, click on the title of the blog post and you should see me butchering shearing a sheep but only if you tilt your head to the side and you're not on an Apple product.... and there isn't a full moon. #offtobedifIdidn'thavethealpacashearerarrivinginanhoursob!]

Lou's Poo to the rescue.....

And here is the result - the power of Poo. A little goes a long way.

Repatriated hydrangea cuttings, from our last Cornish holiday at the fantastic Trevella Holiday Park, are doing well. A beautiful array of colours.

This Geranium (name anyone????) is so gorgeous, with dark maroon foliage and crazy purple flowers.

I love the jungle approach. The only way to contend with mass grass invasion.

Looking neat in the walled garden after a haircut last night. The broad beans have been very delicious this year.

Helianthus, pepper and rhubarb all on track and performing well

Raspberries are taking over the world (yum) and the lupin and shasta combo might stay in pots this year in order to make monumental plants for next year. I'll need to put them in a cooler spot but far from the slugs and snails.

The strawberry pots, filled with Poo and very little soil, are giving us fruit for breakfast every day now

Splendid delphinium

Globe artichoke: I only grow them as ornamentals... too much fiddle as a veg!

Bit of weeding to do Mrs Archer!!! (... in my spare time then..!.)

More borrowed cuttings... I did ask, honest.

This antirrhinum loves living in the wall. 

We found a way to contend with Mr Mole: eye-catching planted squares in the lawn. 

The cornflowers have been insane. So tall. I cut a few for the house and they last so well.

This bed is looking far better since I banned the children from jumping out the downstairs windows!

I do love a lupin

The bees love all the flowers but particularly the knautia

The grass is as high as an elephant's alpaca's eye

Sleepy sheep. Being shaved next week. 

Our planted Christmas trees seem very happy. They have solar, blue twinkly lights in the night... 

The arum lily is just beginning to show off

Land of wellies