Passion and Belief

To market, to market to buy a fat pig. The Farmer’s Market was on today in Wauchope, too enticing these days to pass up. There really was a man there selling fat pigs, well pork. His name is Brian Wehlburg and his farm is in Kindee in the next valley to the south, where he also raises beef and eggs, free-ranging on pasture. We met him when he gave a small talk a while ago at one of the Small Farmers Network workshops organised through Landcare, and then again when he ran a weekend workshop on pasture management, introducing us to cell grazing and opening the door to what we don’t know. He does a good job promoting his produce, made easier because he has both passion and belief in what he is doing. A powerful combination when used for the powers of good. We dig swine, but mainly bacon and prosciutto so we’ll pass on his cuts of pork but it looks like we might get one of his beef packs. We ran into some friends at the markets and sat around drinking coffee, trying to work out how much beef we could fit in our freezers if we shared half or quarter of a cow.


Noah was fascinated watching a spinning demonstration, four women lined up with their wheels, ready to take on any comers, turning alpaca fleece into yarn. Outside in a light splattering of rain Elly was hosting a cook-off where the contestants had to use produce from the markets, fresh and local. Leeks were sautéed, egg whites stiffened, mushrooms and tomatoes enveloped in a local, free-range, organic omelette. The judges couldn’t separate the dishes so they split the prizes and drew straws to see who progressed to the semi-finals.


Home is a nice place to be on a rainy Saturday afternoon, sitting on the verandah, listening to the rain, watching the mist in the hills. Dozing.

“I’m grateful that I had a little run around with Denny, and Denny chased me.”
(Confused? Look)

Close the loop

Yesterday I wrote that we have seven beds in our veggie garden for crop rotation. It is true we have seven beds but only six of them are in the rotation. The seventh is for our perennials, plants that will last longer than one season. Like everything in the Dairy it is small, but there is enough room for some rhubarb and about ten asparagus crowns, which should last over twenty years. We planted two year old crowns last year so now, three years old, they are ready to start harvesting. Asparagus stands out in my mind as what you eat when the winter vegetables have finished and before the spring vegetables are ready to harvest. An indulgent, necessary feast. The first spears are poking through the mulch, sniffing the air to see if the frosts have finished. We’re wondering too. Asparagus is a heavy feeder so if the frosts are over we will rake back the mulch and feed them heavily with blood and bone before covering them again. I will use the blood and bone because we still have some but I’m keen to try and use solely what we have on site. Close the loop. I think chook poo would work quite well, perhaps aged a little first so it’s not so hot.

I made Impossible Pie this morning using duck eggs and topped with three asparagus spears from the garden, my contribution to pot luck lunch with our friend’s who were going to show a few of us how to make pasta. Em made little citrus tartlets, sweet and delicious, and like my pie a good way to use up a few eggs.


Making your own pasta is one of those things that is hard to justify if you consider cost alone, as it is so cheap. But we spent such a delightful day, hanging out with friends, sharing a meal, kids playing together, listening to music, learning something new. Taking one more thing off the list that we have to make the long drive into town for. And we’re keeping alive the knowledge and skills of how to feed ourselves, using flour and our own organic eggs. The shops don’t stock what we made today.


“I’m grateful that we went to Chay and Pete’s and I eat a bit of that pasta.”
(Confused? Look)