The Barn

This is the inside of our barn.  I don't know why we call this little building at the bottom of our garden "the barn".  It's not that livestock were ever raised in here.  Nor did we store hay or grain inside these walls.  Living things have entered herein, though.  At one time, our Emma's horse would frequent part of the barn, but she never liked to stay inside for long.  Maybe she found it austere.  

With master cobwebs like this, I would too.  Not to mention the decomposition of fallen willow tree leaves on the 'sky-light' part of the roof.

She preferred the outdoors. The beauty of the paddock.

I would too.  If this was my only other option.

The Machinist uses the barn, though.  A lot of his 'I-can't-find-a-place-for-this- I know - the-barn!' items are stored in - the Barn.

Generations of cats and kittens would play and frolic in the barn, too.  As did mice (not for long, though).  And once, while moving brand new fence sheeting off the bare-soil floor, the last sheet revealed a sleepy Tiger snake.  (I will never forget it.  Nor will my daughters.  I won't forget the terror of the snake.  They won't forget the terror of my voice when I saw the snake).

The Barn has played host to useful things, too.  Like props we used when we ran our cafe, The Daily Pie

We would use this light - like a beacon at night when we were expecting customers for evening functions.....

It's original home was in a local Theatre within our Shire...

And of course there is the faithful, hard working, manual-labour lawn mower.  Oh, the number of lawns this fella has mowed.  If only he could talk.  He would tell you!  He'd be glad to brag, too.

Which is more than I can say for this old dear.  I suspect he needs some attention....

Then there is the fire fighting pump.  He's pumped about his important role in the protection of our property against prospective bush fires (that's a lot of 'P's').  We're glad he's here, though.  But shhhh....don't tell him, or else it may go to his head.  He already thinks he's the cleanest, shiniest piece of equipment in the room.

Another guy ready for action.  I think my son was 2 when he learned to use the chain saw.

Just kidding.  That would mean that I would have had to start it for him by pulling this chord.  That would never have happened.  I'm not that tenacious.  Or patient.  Especially when there is no fuel in it to keep it running, and I wouldn't even know the difference.

And what is this treasure, hiding under that semi-rusty shelving?  Oh, that's right.  I remember now.  It's a birthday gift.  A potting wheel.  Never used.  Except for the assortment of beetles, spiders and other critters passing through it's parts.

All this to say - the Barn is on our Projects List for this year.  We've been slowly but surely clearing it out and I'm happy to report that these last items may be the Barn's last occupants before the Big Makeover.  The walls will be lined.  A ceiling put in.  A floor, too.

Lights!!

Camera!!

Goodbye, Summer

Summer has gone.  Even these foxgloves look tired and worn out. You know what they're singing?  "Bend me, shape me, anyway ya want me...Long as ya love me...it's all-right..."  Referring to the westerly summer winds, of course.  Oh, and the bees, that were giving them love.

See the brick edging?  These were recycled from an old chimney in our kitchen.  Young Acorn actually laid these bricks.  I'll wager, though, that she doesn't remember 'planting' a ten cent piece in the cement that holds the bricks upright.  She will probably hound me to show her when she reads this post, and I'll probably keep her guessing.  No egg hunt for her!  Just a ten cent piece hunt. Ha!

Two faithfuls: Snow in Summer and Ajuga.

Hold on.... What...?

Oh, it's Rowdy Rusty on his pogo stick.  He's hiding behind the Daphne.

Some of our pets are buried under these plants.  It's Pet Cemetery corner.

RIP faithful friends!

Ceramic chicks having a natter....

"Ya know, Mable... I'll be glad when this heat is over.. "
"You said it, Fred.  This sun will crack me up...unlike your corny jokes..."

The potted succulent cheer squad.

 Dial-a-crowd.

And so... summer really is over.

It's gone.

As is Sasha - the Family Cat.  She has vacated the front garden and now resides in the rear garden, where she now reigns over new territories AND a devoted canine.

A Path Going Nowhere

A few years ago, we built our second workshop - the "Fabrication" Workshop on our village block, next to our house.  At the time, it was distressing for me, because (sigh...) there was the most amazing view from our back deck; a mountain range, paddocks, sheep, cattle, and a number of dead, but still majestic gum trees, holding their branch arms upward - towards the Heavens.  

Naturally, one's 'living' has to come before all of that, and so - I resigned myself to make the most of the situation.  The building of the workshop has created the most unexpected, yet delightful 'micro-climate' situation-type situation, and has provided a much needed and welcome wind break from the notorious westerly winds. 

It is Autumn now (a favourite of mine!) and this is what we planted on the weekend; a 20m garden bed - filled with perennials which runs alongside part of the workshop path. 

Note the plastic taped to the corrugated iron?  That's the Machinist for you.  "At least it will delay a little rust, Babe.  We won't have to bother about it for a few years..." 

The pieces of corrugated iron which retain the top path-to-be were salvaged from an old corrugated fence which had 'grown' there since - oh - 1950?

Before my time, anyway.

And with all good plants, come some healthy snails.

Confession:  I still CANNOT, to this day - kill a snail.  I cannot squash it.  I cannot bare the sound  of the crunching of it's home.  Instead, I throw them in the creek at the bottom of our property OR, if I'm pressed (is  that a pun?) for time, I will hurl them "elsewhere", without consideration (forced oblivion) to the fact that they will painstakingly slither back.

OR, I get Polly to eat them.

"Sluuurp...woof....thank-you, Mamma.  That was delicious"

Just kidding.  She would if I let her though.  This dog is STARVED.

I don't know why, but I get a pathetic sense of satisfaction and delight seeing these empty coloured pots - strewn haphazardly after planting.  I gently pull the plant from the pot, nestle it into the pre-dug hole and then toss them behind me, in a non-caring fashion (I've tripped on them later, too).

Newly formed steps leading from the garden to the side Exit door of the Fabrication Shop

This is how the plants looked after watering.  Can you see the willow tree branches hanging low, Sweet Chariot?  Can you also see that the path leads straight into a colour bond fence. It goes nowhere.  Unless, of course - one was to leap OFF the path, over the garden bed, and hit a sharp left turn into the barn.

Usually, I plant too many, too close.  I've really had to control myself on this garden project. The plantings are wider apart.

You're welcome, plants!

And again.... We'll cut the plastic when we apply the mulch.

And again... Wait!  What's that?  A wwwweeed.   It is poking through a hole in the old corrugated iron.  This weed sure knows where it's bread is buttered.  The Machinist and I both smiled and agreed that it was kind of nice the way it poked through there.  What tenacity!  (Of course I won't think the same way IF we allow it to live.  And grow.  And spread it's weed seeds.  

I feel faint at the thought of more weeding, so early in the (planting) game. 

Ok, then... I'm off to nip something in the bud....

#nomercyhavei

Juicing Fast

My daughter Emma and I have been on a juice fast for the past 30 days.  We've been juicing raw vegetables (and a few fruits) each day - which has been our only source of nutrition.  Apart from glorious weight loss, this has helped with restful and deeper sleep for longer periods of time.  It has also improved our general well being.

Our regular 'liquid gold' - (actually - green) daily juice has consisted of orange juice mid-morning and a combination of Silverbeet, rainbow chard, kale, parsley, carrot, celery, cucumber, fennel and lemon for subsequent 'meals'.

When we receive the fruit and vegetable delivery, we've separated, portioned it and wrapped it in BPA free Glad Wrap *tm.  The skill is finding appropriate spaces and packing it in the fridge:

At the same time, we've been harvesting abundant fruits and vegetables from our own garden, which we've hardly managed to even give away.

Some years ago, I read a book by Jackie French -"Backyard Self Sufficiency" and remember how she wrote that it wasn't the planting or nurturing of food that was the hard work, but the harvesting and processing of the 'fruits of labour'.  I never thought it would happen in my own yard.  I never thought it would happen to me.

But it did.

After many - MANY - gardening failures, persistence and time itself has given us great rewards.

The Watcher

The rear of our home garden sits between two metal workshops; - the Fabrication shop (or Fab shop) and the Machine shop.  The Machine shop has windows which look out onto the garden.  It also has a side door which leads out into the garden.

While weeding today, the side door opened and the Machinist, fighting through cobwebs hung between Bosc and Comice pear trees, advanced towards me....

"Babe, I just wanted you to know - if you get the feeling that someone is watching you, well - they are.  It's me.  Anyway...I just wanted you to know that...."

Farewell to the Willow. Hello to Progress.

I'm constantly amazed at the speed in which willow trees grow.  There is one at the bottom of our garden, next to the Workshop.  Before we built the Workshop, (even before it was a 'glint' in our eye) we buried almost a whole litter of kittens under the willow.  A few months later, a whole litter of puppies dug up their decaying bodies and scattered them around the trunk. 

Yea, it is fertile soil.

A younger willow tree, on the edge of the receding creek

The Debco lads cut the willow tree down today.  It was was cut so that a 'levy' bank could be created in its place - to protect our current Workshop A and the one we will soon be building: Workshop B from flash flooding.

I had heated words with the Machinist, 'cos in my mind's eye, all I could see was a levy mound, - the height of our back corrugated fence.  I imagined that this newly formed mound would create a 'leg over' for any adventurous creek-dwelling snake (not that snakes have legs).  The Machinist informed me that he was going to build a new (higher) fence.  I knew that his new fence wouldn't come in the near future, - not for some time, in fact and in the meantime, reptile migration would be in full force.  

I panicked.

He was adamant.

I angered.

He angered.

I retreated to the house.

Not long after, he followed.

I put the kettle on.

He explained that the mound would be the same height as our rear orchard bed.  Two mounds, the same height with a corrugated (cemented in) fence between them.

We had coffee.

All was well.

It still is.

Good night.

Food Gardening and the Machinist Cooks!

If you look carefully at the photo below,  you will notice raspberry canes growing in between apple trees.  I can just imagine both of them together in a pie....

I love permaculture and companion planting.   My brother, Gary, told me years ago that the gardeners of old would plant by the moon.  They somehow knew what to plant depending on the phase of the moon. When the Machinist's Ouma was still alive, she often attempted to share her love of plants, flowers and trees with us. Random gifts of greenery in washed out jam tins were common.  A week at our home and their demise was common too.  It didn't stop her green-generosity, though.  The Machinist reckons she'd be smiling down from Heaven if she could see us now, knowing all her efforts were worth it.

She must have sensed our potential....

Today, our garden is brimming with life.  When we are in the pool, we are surrounded  by trees - most of them fruit bearing. It's gotten to the stage that I have to transplant and / or give plants away. 

Said raspberry canes were recently tranplanted to a damper spot, right up against the back orchard fence (corrugated zinc-allum, dug into the soil and cemented, for snake-prevention because of my Ophidiophobia). The Machinist surrounded the canes with thick lucerne mulch, and covered them with square mesh frames. Rusted. (Not the tin roof the B52's sing about).

With bum in air and head to the soil, I scoured the rest of the orchard for weeds, tugging madly at dominating thistles, while protected with leather welding gloves. It's a good job I'm hidden in the garden. How the Machinist must love me....

And talking of the Machinist, he made a delicious meal tonight.  Ground beef with sauteed celery, fennel, herbs, red onions and carrots over rice noodles. 

"Would you like some more, Babe, or do you want to leave room for a surprise I have for you?  Or, would you like both?"

"Both, please". 

Come on, I had to. It's polite.

Later, the Machinist disappeared into the kitchen, and came back carrying two dishes of The Surprise.  Cherries in Syrup with whipped cream.

Can  you feel it?