Winter calf sales

Calf sales 2017 (1)

The time to face more farm realities has come and gone, our lovely calves have left the farm to an unknown destination. It has gone full circle, we now need to scan our cows and check who is in calf. We know that Oprah will be calving around the 5th of May next year, but the others are still in question.

The weanling calves were fattened up a bit before a tour to the mart, a bit of extra feed they didn’t have to share with the cows. Apart from that they spent evening to morning with their dams. They still take a bit of milk, but there’s not much left to be honest and most of their diet is the same as the cows.

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Atlas and Goldie on their last few days on the farm.

The mart is as always, a bit or a roll of the dice, although you will get a good idea what the prices are. It is hard to gauge, you will find plenty of pure stock buyers and sometimes not that many farmers. The market of course also depends on the time of the year.

We were probably a bit late with our sales, while our calves got a chance to bulk up a bit, it is slightly out of season for farmers in terms of filling up in stock. Our cattle are outdoors, while most beef cattle will be put in for the winter to avoid losing their bulk. While this makes more commercial sense, we are happy enough for ours to be outdoors as not only does this facilitate our work, but is a more natural state for the cattle.

It is still not hassle free, even in Ireland there is a shortage of grass this time of the year. The fields still look green, but the grass is short and sparse. Our cattle get a supplement of silage, which are large round bales of wet or damp cut grass wrapped in plastic. It doesn’t rot but rather has a slightly fermented smell to it and is often warm at its core.

Cows and calves together would go through one bale in 3-4 days, while the cows alone stretch it out to about a week. This is another aspect of farming, the break even and profit margin. Do you keep calves over the winter and hope for better prices? Will the higher price cover or eat up the cost of supplemented feed? Would you keep a calf ,the right calf, raise it and hope it gives good stock in the future?

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Nuti, a placid and food greedy little heifer.

These questions do batter my city girl sensibilities, but are of course part of farming reality. It is also a great learning experience to look at your food in the eye, to consider the quality of their lives, to make choices about what you eat.

So my four beautiful calves went to the Ennis mart on a Tuesday, but no joy, the prices weren’t good enough. They were sold las Saturday in the Sixmilebridge mart, at prices that were marginally higher. But again, the calculation of feed and time settled the sale. There was no point bringing them back, hoping to sell them privately, feeding them, but still having them loose bodyweight in the cold temperatures of the season.

As said, the prices are always hard to gauge. Funnily enough the lighter bull, 270 kg, went for a higher price than the heavier one, 300 kg. It could be the colour, the shape, the similarity to other bulls bought by the beef buyer or farmer. My girls, the heifers, went cheaper than the bulls, which is something I need to look into as they both were better quality stock. At the end of the day though, bulls carry more weight than heifers once they are bulked up properly.

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All tucked into the trailer on route to the mart.

When the calves were leaving in the farm and I could see them placidly munching away at the hay in the trailer, I did feel regret. I thought back at the effort Goldie’s birth was (read “A life or death situation”), and how happy I was at the easy arrival of the others. A farmer in the mart looked at me and noted that these calves were right pets and very placid. He laughed when I agreed and said it would be all fine once I had the check in hand. Not really true for me, I have to say.

Since I’m not planning on becoming a vegetarian, I can take pride in the care my calves got. I also thought back on my childhood in Africa, where cattle are protected, loved, cared for and eaten with a natural attachment and detachment that the modern world has lost. Cattle is food, fortune and status in Africa, where one aspect doesn’t diminish the other. You enjoy your status, use your fortune and eat your food.

Now is the quiet time until the new arrivals next spring. Better enjoy it while we can.

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Goodbye my lovelies, we will miss you!

 

 

Making use of all my wool

Spinning and felting Oct 17

With the help of a friend of mine I have taken up a new hobby, spinning and felting. Thanks to the loan of a pair of hand carders and the spindles I bought years ago, I am now producing the beginning of uneven and bumpy yarn. My kids enjoy it as well and together we are slowly, very slowly, using up one of the sheep fleeces we have.

As I explained in a previous blog (see post Shedding the winter coats) sheep fleeces are considered a waste product and are pretty much useless. Unless you have some fancy and exclusive mohair sheep and particularly if your sheep are intended for meat or dairy, the price you get for the fleece will only about cover the cost of the shearing.

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A real spindle for my yarn. Great fun!

I have recently been baffled by some interesting opinions on sheep shearing online, where some animal rights activists have classified it as animal abuse. I guess you can only have this opinion if you haven’t seen the relief on the sheep after shearing on a hot day (Shedding the winter coats), or if you’ve had to deal with flystrike and maggots in the fleece after hot and humid weather (don’t miss post Disgusting sheep chores). A good shearer is quick, efficient and careful, the fellow we use is all that and taciturn to boot, you won’t even get a grunt out of him and the sheep are as meek as…well, sheep. Sheep are fully domesticated animals, which really just means that they cannot live in the wild without the help of humans. There are of course breeds that are better at this, but it does not apply to most of the breeds you see in the European countryside.

While I meant to get the fleeces to the mill for a few euros each, I kept forgetting. Instead I have sacks of fleeces waiting to be used and no time better to start at the “Spinning Day” in Ennis. Attended by a whole group of local spinners and a friend of mine who had promised to give me the first rudimental skills, so my girls and I got two of what I hoped where my best fleeces and got a lesson with both the spindle and the spinning wheel.

According to the women spinning there, the fleeces were not bad at all, they were of fairly long and soft fibers. I had rinsed one of the fleeces a couple of times and laid it out to dry in my polytunnel, the other I brought with me in its raw state. I did give one away to another local spinner, she was delighted with the gift.

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A drop spindle, easy to bring anywhere.

The spinning is very relaxing, there is something almost hypnotic about it and it can be hard to stop. My kids enjoy it as well, and since I’m not worrying about creating the perfect yarn they are welcome to spin at any time, of course it usually turns out they want to spin when they see me doing it, particularly after I have prepared a good few skeins (carded pieces of wool). We’ve decided that the yarn will be used for a Christmas knitting project, so I better get more wool spun.

The other thing I tried my hand at is needle felting. Being a right Pinterest addict and a bit of imagination, I was able to figure out the basics of this craft, which is another addictive and hypnotising pastime. It is exactly what it sounds like, you literally shape wool by compressing it into shapes with a needle, which you punch through the wool endlessly. You can add colours and shades, to create whatever you like. Have a quick look at Pinterest and you will be amazed at the creations. I will for now show of my first project, a tiny unicorn made with my own sheep’s wool with fancy coloured mohair wool added to it, just for the effect.

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My first attempt at needle felting. A bit lumpy but not too bad, if I can say so myself.

I love learning new skills and there crafting something with your hands is incredible relaxing and therapeutically, but there is also something sad about old-time and traditional crafts. There is one thing all the spinners at the event were in agreement on, spinning doesn’t pay. Many of them used their beautiful wool for different projects, whether this be hand knitted jumpers, scarves or other clothing items. These are items that have a sentimental and artistic value, but few people could imagine paying for the time spent on such a project. That is true for most crafts, unfortunately.

Regardless of the economical imbalance of crafting, there are few things that give such gratification as creating something from scratch. For me it goes even one step further, it is to be able to appreciate all aspects of my animals and farming. I have reared and cared for these sheep, they have provided meat for me and now I can say that I have not wasted any part of them.

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Me and my sheep bestie, simply called “The kind one”. Its time to give her a proper name.

 

 

A bit about cow fertility

Cows in heat Aug 17

We have moved into a new stage of watching our cows. Last spring we had to keep them under surveillance to make sure they calved safely, now I have to check them regularly to alert. make sure they are ready to be bulled.

There will be no bull, so the minute I see the signs of heat the AI man needs to be called and the cow penned. No one wants to miss the chance to get the cow in calf.

I was unprepared the first round and didn’t inform Kevin until days after, but to be fair I had not been informed I needed to keep my eye on them. After that I have been more alert and attentive.

The second round was a bit of a laugh. I will be honest and admit that while I had read up on the symptoms of the cows in heat I had totally missed out on a few details of the mechanics. Again, to be fair, it is my first go at this and somehow everyone takes for granted I tolthat I know the obvious…which I obviously don’t.

Early one morning I informed Kevin that a cow had mounted another and he immediately got on the phone to the AI man, who arranged to come in the afternoon. I put in the cow in the pen and as the afternoon came near Kevin asked me which cow I had put in.

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Checking the heat detectors on the back of the cows.

 

“Did you put in Sheila into the pen?”, Kevin asked
“What do you mean Sheila?”, I asked him slightly confused
“The one that is ready for bulling, of course. Is Sheila in the pen?”, he asked again.
“For bulling? Why on earth would I put Sheila in the pen?”, I answered.
“I told you to put her in, the AI man will be here soon and she needs to be penned”, he said a good bit irritated by now.
“You do realise that Sheila is the pony, don’t you? You mean Gypsy.” I said as the conversation finally made sense.
“I don’t know what silly names you have put on the cows. We never named our cows.”, he said exasperated.

Well sorry, but I do.

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Gypsy with her calf Atlas

We have our striped Galloway, with the apt name of Gypsy Rose Lee, for the first burlesque stripper dancer. You might have heard of the musical “Gypsy”, starring Bette Midler. She gave birth to Atlas, the white striped grey bull calf.

Oprah and her calf Goldie probably don’t need much of an introduction, as they are mentioned often enough in the blog. Oprah taught me how to milk and Goldie softened my hardened heart to cattle.

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Missy Moo, our smallest and most gentle cow.

Missy Moo, our smallest and most calm cow is a right pet. Her calf, Ash, is a lovely ash coloured bull calf that everyone finds just beautiful.

Our last cow just got her name, Nutella, but her calf is still nameless. The kids and I are a bit blank, but we will get there. All calves were sired by the same Charolais bull, and it shows.

So, I had put in the cow and not the pony into the pen, but to Kevin’s chagrin it was the wrong cow. One of the signs of heat is cows mounting each other, in my naïve logic I thought that the cow doing the mounting must have the hormones raging; never did I expect that cows in a normal state would feel the need to mount another cow just because the other is in heat.

While Kevin fretted about the arrival of the AI man, I exchanged the cows with plenty of time. The AI man literally flew in and out, the whole procedure took less than a minute and hopefully in 283 days we will have another calf.

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Nutella, she finally got named.

Another fact I didn’t know, and am not fully convinced of yet, is that you can choose a bull that can give calves that “are easy to calf”. Does it mean the calves are smaller? Are they more slippery? Do they position themselves better? And how in the world (except for size) is that defined by the sperm of a bull. I need to investigate this further, so feel free to enlighten me.

All cows but one have been in heat and are hopefully in calf. To facilitate the surveillance, an heat detector sticker has been put on every cow, just to make sure we don’t miss the chance to get them in calf and that the ones in calf really are.

The AI procedure doesn’t always take, and there is only a small window every three weeks to get a cow in calf. Fingers crossed that it all goes well, and while we might fret I am happy that the calves will not be born too early in the year. Warmer weather definitely made for easier and safer calving. So, we are holding our breath and awaiting for the signs of heat in Oprah, the last one to get in calf.

 

Sheep chores you try to avoid

 

 

Disgusting sheep chores Aug 17

It is probably high up there on the most disgusting chores to do on a farm. Thankfully it is not something that has happened to us too often, but a fly strike and getting rid of the maggots in sheep is not for the faint hearted.

Our lambs were not sheared when the shearer came by (read Sheep chores), when I asked about it he simply said it was not done. Fair enough, thought I, but what I didn’t count on was that the early born lambs had pretty long fleeces by high summer and the weather made it a perfect nesting ground for fly eggs.

My mother, visiting for a couple of weeks, spotted a lamb with what looked like mud on her back. She asked me if the lamb was dirty, but it wasn’t until the next day when I investigated more thoroughly when I saw the maggots crawling around.

A neighbour helped us to dose the lamb, by pouring anti-maggot liquid over the fleece. Unfortunately, this didn’t dent the maggots’ advance and the lamb was only slightly better the day after.

Because these things ALWAYS happen on a Saturday, right after the farm shops close, I could not pop-in into town to pick up the right chemical dosing. My neighbours were of course out of it and I had to research for alternatives.

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Lamb with ewe. Next year the early lambs will get sheared as well.

I got stuck into my computer doing research, as I had very little information on how to deal with it and no access to the proper maggot killing chemicals to use. Weighing options, chemicals, traditional cures, organic or herbal cures, prevention strategies, signs to look out for, weather impact, and finally settling on a mode of attack.

On Sunday morning, I made up my own concoction to kill maggots and went looking for the lamb with one of my daughters. The other had had a look at the lamb and maggots the previous day, and it had given her with nightmares that night.

For anyone that may need it, this is what my concoction had. Now, before you go writing it down for your own use, let me make it perfectly clear that this was purely put together in desperation and not based on years of experience.

I mixed a bit of water, paraffin and all the tea tree and eucalyptus essential oils I could find in the house.

We got hold of the lamb, tied up its legs, and while my daughter literally sat on it to immobilise it I started cutting the fleece with my kitchen scissors. Yes, I know, I will get a proper shearer…soon.

I cut and cut, and scraped off maggots as I went along. Following all the paths they made from the rump onwards, making sure I left no maggot trails untouched. One side, then the other, plus the rump and down the legs.

“Can I go and get a book mum?”, my less than interested daughter asked me as she was sitting calmly on the lamb.

“Are you cracked?”, I answered just as the lamb took a chance and tried to shake us off. There was no need to explain further that she needed to pay more attention.

I was finally satisfied that I had gotten almost all the maggots, to my charging I could not get at the smallest ones. This is where my concoction came in handy.

I poured the liquid over the lamb’s affected areas and was able to get a lot of the smaller maggots off, as they tried to get away from my home made mix. I still knew I would have to get stronger stuff to fully kill off the maggots, but this at least helped the lamb survive until Monday. We could tell that she was doing a lot better after this rough treatment, and I could go to bed satisfied that it would survive.

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Nosy ewe in the morning.

A few days later, I realised another thing I hadn’t counted on; in the scorching sun we had over a few days, the lamb got sun burned. Calling in to the vet, he just recommended cream, which was fine. But I brought it a step further and got Aloe Vera gel cream that I put on the poor lamb’s sunburned skin.

Not only that, I took and old t-shirt, cut it up a bit and fitted it onto the lamb back to front. The back legs through the arms of the t-shirt and the front legs through holes I made close to the bottom seams. Again, this home made solution proved to be a good one.

Now, I wish I had the presence of actually taking pictures of the whole process. Not that you’d like to see pictures of maggots, I presume. But the whole ordeal took so much out of me, that waving around my mobile phone was the last thing on my mind. So you’ll have to excuse me, that this post is a bit more wordy than usual.

I never expected the paparazzi

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Until lately, I have in a very small scale, experienced what it might be like to be persecuted by adoring fans or the paparazzi. It has calmed down a bit, but I am still conscious of what door I use to exit my house.

No, I have not overnight become a media star, my blog is not that famous and it is much simpler than that, although almost equally ridiculous and unexpected. It all has to do with the abundant TLC I give our animals on the farm. I still have many of my city girl sensibilities left, they have not yet been erased by the harsh reality of farming (see Farming reality slapped me in the face post).

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“The kind one”, our most placid ewe checking me out and looking for a treat

So it is no surprise really, with the level of coddling I give my animals, that they watch me and often follow me wherever I go. Our farm is small and many of the fields are facing the house. Depending on what door I exit, I am constantly greeted by one group of animals or other.

Now that that the pasture is plentiful their attention has lessened, but when I fed them animal nuts daily up to late spring, I could hardly leave the house without having hearing intense baaing from the sheep until they’d lose sight of me.

If I by chance am carrying any type of bucket, even now, there is literally a stampede to get at me. The sheep are bad enough, as the larger ones could easily knock you over; or as it also happened, they would run in between my legs and lift me off the ground. No, I do not relish riding an ewe and particularly not ones with wet wool.

At times, even without a bucket, they decide I am somehow feeding them and follow me around the field until I get to a gate. They then proceeded to stare at me and continue baaing, which clearly means “Feed me! Feed me now” in sheep.

The cows and calves are calmer, but once they spot the bucket I would imagine myself the middle of a rugby field with the ball in my hand and the other team coming against me. It makes me laugh to see them run at full speed towards me, but quite scary as well as I wonder if they will stop in time before they maul me. After being shoved and pushed around a few times when I was trying to empty the bucket in front of them, I quickly learned to be a good bit more imposing with my normally very calm cows. Lack of respect from their side would end in me being trampled.

 

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The cow rugby team coming against me. Scary!

Thankfully the cows are lazier than the sheep, and they will not follow me for long. On very hot or rainy days, they won’t even bother to look my way.

The ducks are smaller and easier to handle, but no less loud when they see me and know it is time to fill their buckets. They run towards me like a feathered cloud giving their cute quacks. I feel bad at times passing their pen, without any treats to give them as they follow me in their loud and cloudlike fashion.

At times I had to consider what I was up to and which would be the best door to leave the house from. While very cute at times, having 20 sheep baaing every time they see you definitely gets on your nerves after a while. I would take the roundabout way, just to avoid their demanding attention.

The positive of all this attention is that it is very easy to round up the animals. I can get both the sheep, cows and ducks into almost any pen or shed, with a little patience. As long as I am carrying a bucket they don’t care where I’m going or where I bring them. It is very handy at times.

 

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I need better shoes, I have had enough of being stepped on by sheep looking for a treat.

 

Kevin no.2 asked me a couple of weeks ago if I spoke some secret sheep language, as they followed me without any problem at all; this after he and Kevin had spent some time trying to chase them into a pen. I guess that is the upside of being a celebrity on this farm.

In all this paparazzi-type of attention I have forgotten to mention my most celebrity-like accessory, my very own body guard. Our dog Bella seldom leaves my side when I am working around the house, farm or polytunnel. Even when I write my blog she lies beside me, perking up the minute I make for a door. Undemanding and constant, my own unobtrusive and constant shadow.

Ah! The life of celebrity, but in a farm-like way.

 

Ducklings are a blast

I never liked chickens, or to be precise, I have always been afraid of them. There is something about their beady eyes and the sharpness of their beak that puts me off. I doesn’t help that I was chased by them as a child.

I am not too keen about birds either, so it was a great surprise to me how I have taken to my ducklings, literally like a duck to water (if you can excuse the weak pun).

Ducklings fitted snugly into a small crate.

The ducklings came as a little bit of a surprise and was as usual not the most organised or planned activity. I always had in mind that ducks would be ideal for the natural pond and turlough Kevin has been cleaning out in the last year, but as the chicken coop is in production on site, I figured ducks were a project for later.

But around here things fall naturally into our laps and we tend to go with the flow when opportunities appear. One of our neighbours had a large selection of ducklings for sale and it was just a matter of going and picking up the breeds we wanted. As ducks where my interest and I had done the most research, I was sent to pick up “about ten, I guess”, said Kevin, from our very entrepreneurial neighbour Fergal.

Now, let me tell you about my neighbour Fergal, who also sold us our cows. A lovely fellow, into about everything you can think of related to farming. Very down to earth and helpful,
but a salesman through and through.

“I’ll take ten, Fergal. A mix of laying ducks and ducks for the table”, I said.
“Did you say thirty? I know you have the space for it. There’s as much work in feeding ten as feeding thirty”, says he.
“Fine, I’ll take fifteen”, says I.
“I’ll give you a few for free, just for you”, says he.

Today I am the proud owner of 22 ducklings, which I bought at a week old. There are seven Aylsbury, table ducks, two mallards (which Fergal assured me wouldn’t fly off, fingers crossed), two unusual Cayuga, a couple Indian Runners and Khaki Cambells.

 

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Aylesbury duckling wondering if I have more worms to hand out.

My lovelies started off residing in a long cardboard box in my utility room. While I could have put them in the shed, I was afraid they might be killed by rats. During the sunny days we have been having, they have been out on the lawn in a temporary pen.

 

The ducklings are so much fun! I can spend ages looking at their antics and listening to their funny little quacky squeeks.

 

As they cannot swim yet, they don’t have feathers only down, I made up a shallow pool (compliments from Pinterest) for them. It is simply a large plastic painting tray, that with water looks like a miniature children’s pool. They just loooove the water and as the days are warm and sunny they don’t get cold.

With the dry mealworms I got in the pet shop, I am slowly taming them and when they see me they stand attention to see if I have any treats for them. I also fill their pool with chopped up weeds, herbs and lettuce, and you would be hard pressed to find happier ducklings when they dive after their treats.

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The ducklings just love the mealworm treats.

Now here is another strange development, I now scour my polytunnel for weeds such as the previously hated bitter cress and check my lawns for dandelion leaves, all used as treats for my ducklings who simply love them. I caught myself today, thinking that I might leave the cress to grow a bit more around my tomatoes, just to have more to give my ducks. I had to pinch my arm, just to make sure I copped on to myself.

They grow at an alarming rate and grew out of their box in no time. The ducklings, not so small any more, now reside in a handy pen in the shed. They still get the chopped weeds, but have now grown onto the grower feed.

The best thing of all; this is the first time I have lost my fear of fowl. Ducks are fun, they leave a mess and are extremely dirty, but will put a smile on anyone. They might lose their duckling cuteness as they get bigger, but somehow I doubt the funny quacks or the waddle gait will dampen their charm.

Will I be able to eat them? Yes. I love duck meat. Also, not all are meant for the table, most are actually meant to keep for eggs. Although a few of those might go, depending if they are ducks or drakes (females or males).

The golden rule in this house is “don’t name anything you are planning on eating”. With the farm animals as with the garden, what I grow is to be eaten, has an additional benefit or uses. This is why we have very few decorative plants and only one pet, our dog Bella. Even these earn their keep; the plants by attracting bees and other useful bugs, and our dog Bella is a great companion and watchdog. Useless with the sheep though.

I did my gardening best

My gardening best

I promised I tried my best, I promised myself that I would not have an overflow of seedlings this year, I restrained my hand as much as possible while planting seeds, I have generously given away as many as I could, I even had seedling funerals and ate many of them in micro-vegetable state. And still, I am being drowned by them.

There are tomatoes galore, enough kale to plant a forest, cabbage for all, more celery than I ever wished for and so many flowers. My green fingers worked against me, as even the oldest seed sprouted into vigorous life. Who knew.

My sheep were kind enough to thin out many of my brassicas and kale seedlings, both planted in the beds and in the pots, when they ventured into the polytunnel a few times. At least they mind the plastic, unlike my bullock frenemies, and left my precious tomatoes alone.

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This cauliflower is begging to be planted, but I already have so many!

 

 

I have given away as many seedlings as I can. One friend commented that it was like going to a garden centre, as I loaded her with stuff.

Almost all my tomatoes have been planted, but I have a few tough and thriving ones in pots begging me to find space for them. I have cherry tomatoes, yellow ones, oval ones and I am very excited about the blue ones.

There are also peppers, both sweet and spicy. I never truly realised that Habaneros (very very spicy chillies) are from tropical climes, really needs a lot of heat. It is growing extremely slowly. Fingers crossed.

I never thought I would have success with artichoke seed I came across, now I’m wondering where I will have the space to plant these very large plants. A few years ago, I bought three seedlings that turned out to be Cardoons and not globe Artichokes. They are hardy, easy to maintain, tough and come back year after year in the outdoor garden, without me so much as looking in their direction. I didn’t even realise you could eat them until recently. Does anyone have any Cardoon recipes?

This year I thought I’d make everything that little bit prettier and I will end up having to create a flower border of some kind. I literally have a sea of flowers waiting for their forever home. It will look lovely though, I just don’t know how I will have the time to weed and maintain a flowerbed. It will probably look spectacular for a couple of months, and very sad for the rest of the year.

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A suprise crop of Globe Artichokes. I never thought they’d be so easy to grow.

I have tried making use of the flowers by interplanting them between the veg and in every pot I can find, and it looks very pretty. I always plant marigold between my tomato plants. This year, as in my plant plan, I also planted Calendula flowers to make hand cream. As a novice in flower gardening, just like vegetable novices, I did not realise how large those plants can get inside the tunnel. You learn something every year when gardening.

Again, the sheep have been kind enough to de-head most of my planted flowers. They will be taking a trip in the trailer to the butcher or the mart if that type of kindness continues.

Next year I will have to revise my gardening plan again, be stricter and harder. I was so proud that I had only planted the six cucumber seeds I needed for six plants. No more, no less. The sheep unbalanced the scale when they bit the top of two of the planted cucumbers. I’m sure I will find something to fill that gap, but six just looked so right in the spot.

My climbing rolet squash will do the trick. I have too many of those anyway, or maybe it is time for another polytunnel?

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RTE show, Nationwide with Anne Cassin, being filmed at the Irish Seedsavers’ plant swap day.

 

One bit of saving grace was the Irish Seedsavers’ plant swap day a couple of weeks ago. I happily brought my babies and gave them away to other loving homes where they will be appreciated. Thankfully we arrived quite late and there were not many seedlings to bring home; I did of course manage to grab a few odd ones…just for the craic of it. RTE was there that day filming a sequence for Nationwide with Anne Cassin, something that made my kids very exited.

The Irish Seedsavers have lovely gardens that have a wild touch to them. They are not like the tidy and perfect castle or walled gardens, but free, large and a great place for an outing in East Clare. The Seedsavers are specialised in native fruit trees and bushes, there is a lovely coffee shop and they also have a great array of workshops of all kinds, from beekeeping, gardening, beermaking and more.

A friend of mine has also given me a load of raspberry plants, which I hope will thrive by our back wall. There may be no jam this year, but I am sure these hardy plants will thrive.

Apart from a few stragglers of all kinds, it is only the celery and ginger that are giving me a bad conscience. There is a bit much of them and they are waiting to be planted. I am waiting for an overcast day to get them and my sweetcorn into the ground.

The tunnel is thriving and there are still hopes that this year will be the best year ever.

The bees love the flowered Pak Choi, I don’t have the hearty to pull it out yet.