Far Lands

Woke up to minus 7C and over a foot of snow.  

No, not a new reprobate in the garden eating the veg or despoiling the beds, but the artic cold. About 10cm snow overnight, and minus 5C. It took Sarah 2 hours to drive home last night from Manchester. Cars all over the place. (Not her car.) This morning we got up at 5.30, and I cleared the road and drove her to a taxi in Hayfield. She's now on a train to London! (Yesterday she woke up in Paris.) Photos below show the garden. I fed the chickens porridge (they've been laying 3 eggs a day). I felt like Nick and Heather.

We've had an owl barrel in the garden for some years now, nailed there by the local raptor group. We're always hopeful at this time of year for a pair of nesting tawny-owls. In January we got quite excited because there seemed to be movement in the entrance of the barrel. We could see new nesting material. Which was a bit odd because owls don't take in their own material. We had to supply it! The answer was spotted by Sarah at the weekend. A rather fat squirrel climbing out and scampering away up the sycamore tree. So, yesterday, I decided on action. I geared up. I put on my bee-keeping gauntlets, then on top I pulled on our coal gloves. Then I carried  a squirrel trap and a ladder across the lawn. I set the ladder against the tree. Squirrels pack a nasty bite. Was my tetanus up to date? I climbed up the ladder and peered inside. The barrel was 3/4 full of dry leaves. Poking out of the top was a bob of grey tail. I shoved in a hand and grabbed. A bit of a stru

Warnings that eating too much red meat is bad for you, and for the environment (as well as the animals) has led to the emergence of alternatives. Vegetables and cake to name but two. At the weekend we tried crickets. They are high in protein (69%) and supply a reasonable amount of calories in fat. We cooked them in a soya sauce / green pepper stir fry, and we ate them with noodles. Used chopsticks. Conclusions They're quite small for chopsticks - annoyingly small. They're crunchy. They taste of nothing. (Then again, moule only taste of cream and white wine when it's cooked in cream and white wine. Otherwise, mussels taste of sea-water.)

2 eggs this morning. One fell out of the chicken house when I opened its front door. The other was on the ground. Both were very small. No doubt they're from the new chicks. It's taken them 21 weeks. Wise men* predicted it would have to happen one day. * actually, one man and one woman PS I'm back after taking a break! Will be blogging on Tuesdays like usual.

I wrote the following article for the quarterly magazine of the Northern Fruit Group. What’s the point of pears?   They all look the same, they all taste the same and they don’t store well.   This year, however, I was converted. I also found out that they do have a point – a historical one.   My epiphany took place at the end of a cold rainy Dewhurst session – at the close of the Summer. (Dewhurst, for years now, has reliably provided good weather every Wednesday, irrespective of the forecast, the rest of the week, and what it’s doing on my, Hayfield, side of the Pennines.) This year it was different and we suffered on Wednesdays.             So there I was, sitting in my car, engine on, heater on, mug of marmite in my hands, ready to drive away. My car boot was full of wet and claggy waterproofs and tools.             Hilary approached, bearing gifts.             I wound down the window. She handed me three pears. ‘Try those. Don’t keep them too long.