Some of the tines

We have two neighbours, both called Steve. Steve the farmer borrowed an aerator recently and ran it over our bottom paddock the other day, penetrating about 6-8 inches into the soil, opening up the earth and unfortunately bending some of the tines on some of the many rocks that lie just below the surface. I lent him my generator while he was doing up his shed on his back block and he was very grateful and keen to repay the favour in some way. Although he didn’t need to do it, aerating the paddock was a thoughtful thing to do. I’ll have to find out what I need to do next – fertilise? Mineralise? Sow seed? Add worm juice? We do need to sit down with someone who knows what they’re doing and plan the year out – what needs doing and when; what we’re going to sow; how much lime we should add. I also have a growing list of supplies that we need that includes a backpack sprayer, some electric fence tape, two energisers, insulated pickets, and electric chook fencing. I’m also going to have to make a mobile chook house, a system to get water to the chooks, a mobile mineral feeder for the cows and probably something to provide shade for the chooks and cows, something mobile. Given all the effort required I am leaning towards having more than just our two heifers in there.

Our other neighbour Steve has a business selling health food and products online. He did the Small Farming Workshop with us the other day which included lunch and I was interested to see what he ate given that he only eats raw food. It turns out he makes the occasional exception, mainly to get along with people, share a meal and accept the food they offer him. I was curious how cooked and processed food tastes to him and his answer surprised me. I was expecting him to talk about how intense the flavour is, how loaded with salt and sugar and fat it is, how it triggers memories of home when he was growing up, how he misses bacon. Instead he simply said that the food tastes dead, how all the life and goodness has been cooked out of it. Which makes sense if you’re used to eating raw food. I can’t dismiss what he said but at the same time I’m not about to make wholesale changes to my diet – I must be getting some nutrition from my food or I wouldn’t be here. And I would miss bacon.

The weather is still magic - cold mist in the morning warming to clear skies and shorts. I spent the morning doing a few jobs around the house – turning the compost, collecting firewood, hanging the chook gate – and then went to finish a job up the road for the woman whose window I’m not making. I feel so much better having decided not to make the window, so much better. I wasn’t confident I was going to be able to do a good job, which is important to me when someone is paying me money. Fortunately she was very understanding, for which I am very grateful. I put up a mantelpiece for her and fixed up a dodgy light fitting, jobs I knew I could do well.

Building an enclosed orchard is going to be our next project for PLAGGA and we need the big poles up beforehand which gives us about two weeks. I rang the guy who is supplying the poles for our orchard this morning but didn’t get through, only able to leave a message. We ordered the poles five months ago and every time I ring him he says it’s too wet to get them out, despite winter being our dry season. I was going to tell him to deliver them within a fortnight or not bother but I spoke to Rob at lunch and he is keen to tell him simply not to bother. Rob thinks we’ll be able to get them out of the bush here and save ourselves almost a thousand dollars. I think it’s a good idea.

Big Hair Psycho

Noah got hold of the camera this morning and took 86 photos. A catalogue of the Dairy and garden from three feet high. He came running in from outside, “Can I have the camera? I’ve got a great shot!” He’d seen some galahs in the chook pen and snuck up on them, camera poised.


I keep thinking about improving our pasture for the dairy cows. This morning Em, Noah and I helped our neighbours Steve and Anne look for a new calf in the bracken in the river paddock, giving me a chance to talk to Steve about getting the Dairy paddocks aerated. He thinks he might be able to borrow a homemade aerator from a friend to do his paddocks and I’d like to run it over ours too. I haven’t seen it yet but he describes it as a spiked roller that digs in a little as it rolls and then gives a bit of a twist on the way out, opening up the topsoil, breaking up the crust. We would use a chisel plough, which would penetrate much deeper, but we have too much rock in the soil profile. Steve let Noah drive his big Massey Ferguson tractor, leaving me to take a photo, maybe just a little jealous.


Em and I have just finished watching Season One of Twin Peaks. There’s a lot to like about it – the music, the saw sharpener during the opening credits and my favourite, Special Agent Dale Cooper. Cooper lets fly with little gems like this: “Harry, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it. Don't wait for it. Just let it happen. It could be a new shirt at the men's store, a catnap in your office chair, or two cups of good, hot black coffee.” Today, after lunch, instead of going straight back to work I had a little siesta on the bed next to my wife. There’s wisdom everywhere, even in early 90s big hair psycho tele-dramas.


Rob thinks there’s a leak in the water tank. The first step in finding it is to establish that there actually is a leak so tonight I’m going to rug up warm, take a torch and walk up to the tanks and measure the water level. Tomorrow morning I’ll get up early and test it again. I’m looking forward to the walk in the dark, eyes wide to let in every little bit of light, trusting the path that I will only barely be able to see, the sound of frogs calling next to the tank, shining the torch in and seeing if there’s anything inside. An extraordinary experience to savour.


“I’m grateful that I checked the eggs and there was one egg.”
(Confused? Look)