Eau de farmer

It's 10.45 on a Sunday morning, just nudging 36 degrees and I'm bathed in sweat. I smell like eau de farmer, a mixture of salt, earth and grass clippings. I'm thinking you could market it as 'Earthy', in a bottle the shape of a blade of grass and an ad campaign filled with endless sky and hay bales. Clearly I've been out in the sun too long this morning already. Sensible people would have been inside reading the Sunday papers and drinking a cup of tea before it gets too hot to contemplate tea drinking, but I was up early filling up on vegan chia pancakes and running Indy around laps of the grove before the heat really struck.

Then it was into the orchard where I wanted to do a quick spot of pruning before it got too hot. Tan came over yesterday to check out the new place and to have a look at our fruit trees. She pronounced them as being in pretty good shape given that they've been unloved for a while and is confident that they'll spring back into life with some care and attention. First task on the list was to get the secateurs Nam gave me for christmas and trim off the bits of branch that the sheep had broken off in their bipedal pruning work. Their edges weren't neat and tidy and Tan informed me that this is where disease can start in trees. Task two was to snip off bits that were crossing over and rubbing against each other as well, as this can also cause disease. Task three was to get rid of the green shoots that were springing up around the base of the trees as these suckers take valuable moisture away from the main tree. There were heaps of these and so this morning I was out, snipping them off, trying to ensure that the main tree won't have its water supply stolen by springy, stringy little interlopers. Some of the trees (mainly the cherry and pear trees not surprisingly) are suffering from a case of cherry and pear slug, so we'll have to get onto that, but Tan said chickens will help with that, which may explain why there was a door from the chicken coop into the orchard where I presume the chickens used to free range, pecking around the base of the trees. Some of the others have leaf shot, so we'll have to look into some remedies for that too. Our citrus need a good dose of epsom salts as the leaves are turning yellow and beginning to drop, and they are also hungry for a feed so we'll give them some food when the temperature drops a bit and some good watering to keep them happy over the next couple of hot days.

So I think pruning 101 went okay and I'm looking forward to sitting down in the heat of today reading this book which Tan gave us as a farm warming present:

Meanwhile we continue to experiment with farm life food. I used Kale from the organic farm across the road to make our first batch of Kale chips, rolled in olive oil, smoky paprika and sea salt and then baked in the oven. Last night we made our first chia seed puddings with almond milk and cinnamon and topped with blueberries. My favourite dessert was to be had on our nightly stroll around the paddocks. The heat of the day had disappeared and the patches of pink were crawling across the sky. We paused at the mulberry tree and picked them, until the ripest ones were gone. 

Close to 9pm we were still out there strolling with the dog and I was struck once again about how fortunate we are to be able to live this life. There's something about living here that causes me to stop and just appreciate what I have. I joke that the farm is making me overly sentimental, but maybe it's just reminding me that there are so many good, simple moments we can enjoy and it's much nicer to revel in them than to dwell in the frustrations, annoyances and negativities of life. Some people seem to like it when there's drama and negativity, they thrive on it and seek it out. 

Here at Innisfree, we're choosing to dwell with the good.