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Self-Sufficiency in Style

august 2002 diary

 

An abundance

Haymaking is a very special activity. It was very late this year. All our neighbours has already cut. Their quality was poor, because of the wet season.

We had cut at the very end of July. The crop was very small, but it looked good. If only the weather would hold.

The die is cast. There is no going back. If it rains, we have problems. We could lose the lot if we have a spell of wet weather.

We returned to the house, to switch on the television.

"Dry and hot especially in the East. Temperature up to 27 degrees C."

The same on Sunday. We rejoice.

"It will be hot again on Monday." We are ecstatic.

"...but there may be thunderstorms in the afternoon..."
We turned the hay on the Saturday. This is part of the drying process.

It was hot, very hot. Things look very good...

but in the evening, the weather forecast is bad, rain is expected on Sunday afternoon.

We may need to help if time is short, we check the pick-up. The battery is flat. Worse, a recharge fails, we need a new battery.

A race to the local garage to remedy the problem.

...the equipment for turning. In a wet year the hay may have to be turned a dozen times over several weeks. In a good year, with hot sun - twice over three days.

The hay in a good year is much better quality.

Damp under the hedge, waiting for the sun to rise above the trees.

 Sunday dawns, the day is hot again. We turn the hay. 

It looks good quality except it is still a little damp in the shadows under the hedge.

We agree to review the situation later that day with a view to baling...if the rain holds off.

As the day wears on, we can hear thunder in the distance.

It rumbles along the horizon to the west. It is going to rain.

Our eldest granddaughter Victoria is with us. At 14, she is not so interested in haymaking.

But she must be able to feel the tension. We scan the tree- line for the weather and the lane for the tractor.

We don't know whether we want him to hurry to beat the rain or to take his time to allow more time for the hay to dry. We cancel dinner.

There are no pictures now. There is no time for such frivolities.

Phew!

The baling machine arrives. We inspect the hay under the hedge. We sniff it carefully and rub it between or fingers. We are uncertain, but the thunder rumbling overhead decides the issue.

We bale. The machine lumbers around the field, we race behind throwing bales onto the pick-up.

One drives, two manhandle the bales. It is hot work in the sultry weather. We race to make a stack. We are down to the last few bales. They are still damp, we stack them on the top to give a chance for them to dry, but the thunder forces us to cover-up.

We tally up the bales...45...and roar with laughter. On our tiny former farm we took at least 300. The businessman in me rebels. "I could earn more than that in ten minutes when I was at work, and we still have to pay for the baler."

Mrs P brings me down to earth. "You couldn't lift 300 bales now," she reminds me," and it is great fun."

Even, Victoria, agrees there is something quite special about haymaking. She tells her own mother later, who remembers haymaking as a teenager well. "Do you remember when I sat on top of the trailer load of hay  and I couldn't get down?"

Of course we do, she married the tractor driver, Victoria's father. 

I'm glad that Victoria could have been there to help handle the tiny crop, just as her younger sister helped with the cow a week or so before.  see Grandmother's Skills

The thunder crashes overhead and the rain pours down.

It is a full week later, I got round to checking the stack. I should have known better. A hand on the tarpaulin tells the story. Heat!

Just as wet grass clippings will ferment and heat, damp hay will do the same, smouldering and eventually bursting into flame.

The stack is remade and the offending bales, those from under the hedge, removed to allow air to circulate.

Offenders removed to dry quietly in the stable.

There is something very special about haymaking. A primeval instinct comes into play. Without hay, in the old days, the livestock could not survive the winter. It was a life and death crop.

Helping haymaking is something everyone should do, even if just once in their life. I can't explain, nobody can, it is just something you have to experience to understand. 

My first hay was made at 40, before that I didn't know hay from straw. I feel richer for the experience and a lot wiser. Like all the really important things it is inexplicable.

Passionfruit

The hay in, we return to the garden.

Some of our more exotic endeavours are looking as if they may be successful. Quite a few of the passion flowers have produced fruit on the warm terrace.

They may ripen, if we get enough sunshine.

The wasps alerted us to the fact that the figs were ripe. We only rescued one, but it was delicious.

English figs actually are very good indeed. The right variety against a south facing wall will do very well and look attractive too.

Next year, we must be sure to beat the wasps. They have been a nuisance for the last month. We have lost a lot of fruit.

The first fig

Colourful harvest

Peppers were, not so long ago, almost unknown in England.

We have had very good crops from the tunnel. They make a very worthwhile crop.

The cape gooseberries, in their papery husks, are from the poly-tunnel too.

Bearing in mind it is our first year for soft fruit, we are really pleased with the results.

This is one day's picking: red and yellow autumn fruiting raspberries, blueberries, cape gooseberries and strawberries.

The cape gooseberries add a special flavour.

Fruit salad

Not exhibition quality!

The main flush of the top fruits are just starting with some early apples.

They are a bit blemished, but unsprayed. They taste fine.

The Walled Garden

August is another month when the self-sufficiency year sees a dramatic change. Bare earth begins to appear as the onions are harvested, the remnants of the broad beans and peas cleared. Manure is spread on the vacant beds.

We virtually cease planting for this year and begin to plant for next spring. There is still much to harvest though. The potatoes must be dug up and stored.  There are still delights to come - the pears for example - and we soon will begin eating the first melons.

Clearing the crop at

  Hangman's Cottage, just to the south of Misery Corner.

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