Far Lands

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 approach...

We had a stand, near Tree Station and The National Trust. Farlands Smallholding - a greener, more sustainable way of life. For sale:- chicks (by arrangement) comb honey strawberries Sunset apple trees blackberries grafting courses (in March 2018 - spaces still available) At 3pm I gave a short talk  Intro to apples and at 3.45pm I did a demo on whip 'n' tongue grafting. The chickens were a big hit and I almost made it into double figures for my apple talk.

At the weekend we found an unidentified 'thing' in the chicken house. Skin and flesh and hairs, shape of half a finger, and looking like a piece of uncooked chicken. (Not the blue thing - that's a biro.) 'Qu'est ce que c'est?' we asked each other. We now think it's a teratoma which made an appearance a couple of years ago in The Guardian - see https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/apr/27/teratoma-tumour-evil-twin-cancer The word teratoma comes from the Greek meaning 'monstrous tumour.' The tabloids as you can imagine ran monster headlines when The Guardian was more restrained. But they have a point: teratomas can include hair and teeth and bone. They are made of cells gone awry. Maybe not something for the BBQ.

I have been busy storing apples in our apple-store and I am now into the overflow zone. The overflow zone is a stack of cardboard boxes in a cupboard. The cupboard seemed quite damp and, as I pulled the boxes out, they were wet to the touch. The reason: 2 boxes from last year! So, if you've ever wondered what happens to an apple in a year, here's the answer:- Whiffiness-wise, not too bad. Certainly not like a burger left under the microwave, a teenage error that my mum still reminds me about.

On Saturday we put the chicks into the main chicken house. At dusk we let the other 6 chickens back into the run, and then said 'Good Night'! Fairly traumatic for them and us. The pecking order is a very literal thing in the chicken house.

The thing about fruit trees – a good thing admittedly – is that even a smallish tree is likely to provide copious amounts of fruit. In particular, apples, pears and plums. Two trees or more, and unless you’re the old woman who lives in a shoe, you’re going to struggle to use them. You’ve eaten them for breakfast, lunch and dessert, and snacks in-between. You’ve made pies and crumbles and tarts and charlotte and tarte tatin . You’ve baked muffins and cakes. You’ve jarred up sauces and chutneys and jams. You’ve made fool, fritters and finicky pastries. You’ve brewed wine and made liqueurs. You’ve stored them on every shelf in the garage and you’ve risked botulism to put them in huge jars. You’ve covered them in toffee and shoved them on sticks. You’ve stewed, baked, puréed and fried them. You’ve bobbed them. Lambasted them. You’ve jumped up and down on them and pressed them into juice. You’ve given them away, lobbed them at the postman and thrown them for the dog.   ...