New Life and a Glimpse at your own mortality.

While one of the downsides of keeping livestock is dealing with all the shit, one of the joys of living close to the natural world is watching the way it reinvigorates itself especially in Spring. The year the early fine weather prompted a dramatic demonstration of this though sadly it all happened in a rush, barely had the daffodils got going, before the  hot weather speeded up the succession of different flowers. Rhoddies came and went, the blackthorn was all over in a week and a big gale did for all the apple blossom.



And new life was born too with Daisy calving as the blackthorns peaked.   On the croft we get a bit blase about life death. Chickens are killed for the pot, larger stock go, as we like to put it, on their day trip to Mull - returning as packed butchered joints while the odd bird falls victim to old age or something nasty in the night.

Daffodil, newly born

Up on her own four feet

  

Daisy and Daffodil in the blackthorn

But amid all this dramatic display of natures bounty I was confronted with my own mortality. Once every day or two for a week or two while climbing our hill or chasing either livestock or children, I experienced quite severe 'indigestion'. A brief sit down sometimes accompanied by a cup of peppermint tea caused my indigestion to quickly pass and so I carried on. Though as easily self deluded as the next man, I am not completely stupid (and, until recently the family watching of Casualty was compulsory)  so, after a particularly 'indigestion' packed day, off we went to A&E at our local hospital. Its amazing how galvanising the three words 'crushing chest pain' are in an A&E department and a week later  here I am back home with my left carotid artery no longer blocked courtesy of modern skills and technology and a cunningly placed stent.  


In my absence the  growth of salads, tomatoes etc in the poly tunnel has been disappointing, just not enough sunshine, but weeds are flourishing and noisy nestlings and fledglings are demanding food from harried parents everywhere. Reassuringly, life goes on.   

Weeding and Wedding and busy busy bees

As the picture, taken in the poly tunnel, shows weeding (plus sowing and planting) activity is at last happening, we are now picking rocket and ruby mustard and the garlic is going well.

Outside the the brave leeks that survived the winter are still being enjoyed, the warm weather has brought a flush of very tasty shoots on the red russian kale and Daisy (the house Jersey - due to calve in two weeks) is sharing the parsnips with us - she gets the  newly sprouting tops we eat the roots.

You could say that we have been as busy as bees lately but that would not be entirely true since thanks to wonderful Kate we now have two hives of bees on the croft and it soon became apparent that nothing is as busy as bees except other bees and perhaps ants.  

Also, unlike bees, we have just had a wee break to recharge batteries, knit socks, read a bit and best of all enjoy some good food with friends on our favourite Island. Its identity cannot be revealed but one could say that in some ways its not the best place for recharging batteries but that may change and below is a picture clue.  

Once back home there was some frantic weeding and mulching around Honeysuckle together with smartening up pots and containers to give a colourful background for Helen and James' wedding.

On a beautiful day amid shining sun and singing birds  Kate cast off her bee keeper's veil in favour of ministerial robes and declared Helen and James husband and wife

Not Weeding but Wedding

You may have noticed that the insights into life and growing stuff on a croft have been few on the ground. I am afraid that trend continues with this post. After all Ed and Gemma's marriage cannot pass unrecorded
As they say, a great time was had by all  although Sukie's dress nearly eclipsed that of the bride and Ed's injury left him looking a bit stunned at times but then perhaps that is not uncommon for a groom on his wedding day. The church service was great; the setting outside for pictures, windswept with a snow covered Ben Nevis in the background, magnificent, Arisaig house was a terrific venue and, dare I say most surprising of all was the Best man's speech, fantastic - well done Thomas. And finally, well done Ed and good luck Gem.

The Killing

Have you discovered 'The Killing'? I stumbled across it by chance late one Tuesday and got to watch the repeat of the first two episodes. I should have gone to bed after the first but, be warned, its compelling stuff.

Its about the 20 day investigation of the brutal murder of a school girl and each one hour episode covers one day. Quite why the BBC do the two episodes back to back I can't understand, logically they should have been brave and shown episodes on consecutive nights - it is on BBC4 after all.

Why is it so good? In some ways being subtitled makes you concentrate in a different sort of way but then as I recently found out at 'The King's Speech', when you watch something really good you don't want to miss one w w w word. I suppose the reason is that it is very well written and everyone else involved in the production is on top form.

Its Danish but, unlike their bacon, has tremendous intensity. Most of the action seems to happen at night, in dark rooms and cellars so its all very noirish too and the story gradually engulfs more people spreading out like high definition slow motion ripples on a pond.

The acting seems fantastic but one can't be entirely sure since, by necessity, they all speak Danish. Sadly my Danish has not improved beyond now knowing that Danish for Hi is Hey pronounced in a shortened way that almost sounds like Hi. It also has the remorselessness and inevitability of a dentist drill.

So, thinking of watching Casualty next Saturday? Give it up, lets face it, its now rubbish, past its sell by date by years and I will tell you next weeks episode now so you do not need to watch it anyhow. To cut a long story short, (never easy with Casualty) a terrorist plants a dirty bomb which cannot be moved or it will explode, there is not time for bomb disposal to arrive but Charlie saves the day revealing, that at one time, he was in the army (the experience pushed him in to nursing) where he was a bomb disposal expert - while Charlie is doing his stuff with the bomb Ruth, who has managed to escape from her ward, trepans herself in a broom cupboard - nice touch eh oh and a man who keeps on complaining about tooth ache and is initially ignored ends up diagnosed with terminal cancer (large tumour in brain) with only few days to live i.e. his own personnel bomb. Now thats what I call poignant. Give it up, tune in to BBC4 and start following 'The Killing'.

Where there's muck

Growing fruit and vegetables on the west coast of Scotland is always a bit of a challenge.  A big advantage is that in early summer its daylight from 5am till 10 even 11pm but sadly its not always sunny and warm.

The weather  is so unpredictable and a cool wet week or two can sweep in and settle upon us at any time.   This can play havoc with germination and also seriously disadvantages the chances of survival for young plants in their battle with slugs.

Having spent years trying to control slugs with beer traps and torchlight night patrols I have given up and now grow most things outside by starting them off inside and planting them out as plugs in everything from loo roll cores, root trainers, plastic modules and mini pots home made from old newspapers. In my experience, well grown vigourous young plants can generally out grow the attacks of slugs.




Cool loving vegetables such as potatoes generally
 like living and growing and growing in Lochaber. As you can see from the picture 2010 was no exception.

But the key ingredient to success on the croft is the abundance of muck. Every day from sometime in October to sometime in May (when the cow and followers are in their sheds) 50 or so kg on finest cow muck is shovelled up and barrowed about the croft. Some is built into big piles for slow maturation, some is spread over bare ground to suppress weeds, be worked on by worms and turned into the ground in spring and so on. And some plays an important role in the polytunnel,  for it is used to fill the raised beds each year with fresh manure. In the shallower beds where salads, onions, leeks, beetroot, leaf beat and carrots etc. are grown six inches or so is burried under twice as much of last years muck which, a year later, is well rotted compost. The deeper beds have all their old compost removed for use elsewhere and are refilled to the top with fresh manure. 4-6 months later early potatoes and then tomatoes, cucumbers and corgettes/marrows are planted out into a pocket of old compost made in the now composting manure.   The pictures right above show how in 12 months fresh manure turns to worm rich compost.

In the polytunnel the manure/compost is not leached by high  rainfall and breaks down quicker in the higher temperatures while all its goodness and moisture retention properties enhance plant growth a well earned reward for all that barrowing.

Eating Out

After the major  disappointment of  eating out at 'Eating In' it is only fair to say that eating out can be a delight. Sadly, Sukie and I will now be deprived of regular pampering at Ardeonaig Hotel but  we still have the Real Food Cafe at Tyndrum.

While very different in style, Sarah at RFC shares Pete's commitment to source food that is fresh as possible, as local as possible and as sustainable as possible with lots of stuff is made and baked on site. As important as all that  is, best of all is that the food all tastes wonderful - we tend to be suckers for the fish and chips. Just writing that has made my mouth water.

I write this as a tip to those perhaps travelling north up the A82 to visit us. After battling with busses up Loch Lomond side reward yourself with the simple, fresh and wonderful food at the Real Food Cafe.

Happy now Dawn?

Dentists, dont you just love them?

Until a week or so ago I would have said a resounding No. But now we all have a new dentist, and she appears to be a rare sub species of dentist that I have never come across before. She is kind, thoughtful and gentle and I can lie out on the slab oops in the chair without developing instant clammy armpits.

Couldn't make my early appointment because both the car and our steep 200m drive were encased in several millimetres of ice. But a phone call assured me that 'I wasn't to worry, quite understandable'. Then a  call back gave me a slot later in the day.

I now have yet another filling and on the way, in the premature gloom of and overcast sky there was some nice light in the west from the ferry.

If only all my trips to the dentist had been like this.



  . . 1                                                  Looking west from the Corran ferry