The chickens have escaped!

No, not me (I’m still in denial) but the plants. Even if you have no interest in seed-saving (which, to be honest, you should have), it’s a good idea to let your veg go to seed, or at least into flower. Here are two good reasons why, for starters…

Here’s the rocket in our garden. It’s given us fresh, green leaves all winter long, and now that it’s gone into flower it’s providing a seasonally rare glimpse of petal to hungry bees out pollen-hunting in the spring sunshine.

Another reason to let veg flower is the ability to get two crops out of one. Here’s a kale plant we’ve been eating from all winter (“Oh no, not more kale soup, mum”). I let it flower instead of ripping it immediately from the ground and now I can produce a plate of lightly steamed “sprouting broccoli” at dinner, much to everyone’s delight. Of course, I don’t tell anyone it’s kale, because it sounds less glamorous.

I learned this re-naming trick last summer when I told my son that we were planting zucchini plants. For over four months he loved (and ate kilos of) “zucchini”; until one day I accidentally called them “courgettes” again and he realised he’d been had! He hasn’t eaten them since. It’s all in the name!

So, go to seed… and let your veg flower too while you’re at it.

Here’s the first of some (hopefully) handy tips.

This is a photo of one of my very beautiful plant labels in the veg patch. To make your own, start saving those used-up tubes of tomato puree. If you don’t use the stuff, then start; by making tasty grub like spaghetti bolognaise, home-made pizzas, minestrone soup…etc, etc.

Take your empty tube, cut off both ends and then cut lengthways down the tube to open it up. Any pair of kitchen scissors works fine. Now to smooth the metal out; I use a wooden spoon on a hard, flat surface. You now have a nice, golden-coloured piece of metal, trim the edges if there are any jagged bits.

To write on, just use an old, dead biro and press hard. Be as artistic as you like!

Yesterday was the first time in a week that I haven’t been ill or the weather hasn’t been terrible, so I’ve been outside planting the hedge.

In case you think that I’m just pretending to do all this gardening, when really I spend all day on the computer in front of a roaring fire with a large glass of wine – here’s photographic proof of the little babies I planted up yesterday. The pic is one of the hornbeams (yes, I know you can hardly tell from the photo!) that I’ve planted in a bank to protect our front garden from the winds and the prying eyes of neighbours (so that we can sunbathe naked). The French are blatant nosey-parkers; when they walk past they actually stop and stare for minutes on end at what you’re doing, hands on hips, sometimes pointing out this and that to a companion – they don’t look whilst pretending not to, as we Brits do!

I started at 9am, finished at 3.30pm, and had a couple of tea breaks – and during that time I got forty plants in. So I feel that’s not too bad and it means I have four more days to go before all 200 plants are in.

Ever since we moved from London to rural France, we’ve had chickens. At first it was because we liked the idea of having them and appreciated the fresh eggs. But now that we’re broke and living ‘the dream’, I’d like to get more than just a poached egg out of them.

We’ve debated many times in this house whether it’s right to kill animals – we do eat meat, but not that often. Ian feels guilty about killing an animal who would otherwise be scratching away in the garden leading a happy life. I feel that it is hypocrisy to eat meat from a supermarket if you’re not prepared to kill your own meat where possible. The other reason for eating our own chickens is, yet again, money. The chicken that we can afford to buy is really low quality. The birds are pasty-looking, I have no idea where they came from, they are quite often bruised from mis-handling and don’t have much meat on them. We have never been able to afford one of those yellow-coloured beauties that are sold at the market – an yet just such a bird is only a few metres away from me in the chicken shed!!

So, logically, I know that when the chickens breed (soon, hopefully) I must try to kill my first chicken. A friend locally has his own and has offered to show me how it’s done – on an old tree stump with a meat cleaver, for him. But I know other people prefer to wring their necks, so I’m not sure which method to try. Please let me know!

I’m sure that I will feel happier about eating a bird I know has led a good, healthy, outdoor life and a quick end than one of those anonymous white things they sell in shops. Ian says I won’t be able to kill an animal…maybe he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks!!…

Went out early this morning to find a field of cobwebs - all covered in dew. Every single blade of grass was an anchor-point for some little spider’s web. It was quite breathtaking, sadly my photo doesn’t quite manage to capture it!

I don’t even see them normally, and just tramp right over them! I think someone once told me that in a square metre of land you’ll find one hundred spiders… don’t know if it’s true, will try to find out…

Unbelievable!! I went out on Wednesday afternoon and bought the 200 hedging plants I’ve been waiting all winter to buy… got home and almost immediately crashed into bed with ‘flu. So I’ve been lying in bed for three days, feeling useless and pathetic, angry at the sun for shining while I am trapped inside and my new plants sit waiting to be planted up.

I’m planting a typical northern European hedge, things like oak, sloe, hazel, beech, willow, etc. In this part of France, the powers that be actually pay people to plant traditional hedges. The ‘bocage’, as it’s known, was once a dense network of hedgerows around every single field and orchard. It was a huge resource for biodiversity and created wildlife corridors between the forests, as well as resources for the humans (firewood, etc). Modern farming techniques, however, have led to many of these hedges being scrubbed out as field sizes have been increased; so the bocage today is significantly reduced. That’s not just to accommodate large tractors, though, many farmers simply can’t be bothered to maintain these hedges and would rather get rid of them. When my neighbouring farmer spied what I was up to, he came rushing over to tell me why I shouldn’t plant a hedge at all. He reminded me (as I am both a stupid English person, and a woman) that hedges have a tendency to grow and will need cutting back on a yearly basis! My god, what a surprise that was, I can tell you. I actually thought the little plants were going to stay 60cm tall for ever!!!

Anyway, moaning about my neighbours aside… I have signed a contract with the bureaucrats to plant a minimum of 200 plants; they will repay me the cost, and now I must go out and plant them. Not everyone is like my neighbour; as you drive around you can see lots of places which have been recently planted up with a traditional hedge – so I’m glad to do my bit. We laid down some sheet-mulch in October last year, so in theory all I have to do is make a slit in the ground with my spade, drop one of the bare-rooted babies in, press firmly with a heel and move on the the next. Should be all done by tea-time…

Another birthday has rolled up and knocked on my door; they do come round quick, don’t they! The children gave me a pair of shoes they have stitched together themselves from dried-out slug skins, and Ian gave me a nifty sun-hat woven from old dog hair.

Yes, yes, of course I’m joking!! But a self-sufficient lifestyle means no more luxury gadgets or pointless frivolity on days like these – unless it has a demonstrably high ‘cost versus usefulness’ ratio, the gift is no good (hence the very beautiful bill-hook which I received last year).

However, it’s not all deprivation on this joyous day. Luckily, yet not by accident, we live in France - so birthday cheer all round as we crack open a couple of bottles with some close friends. Not such a hard life after all!

Out in the garden this weekend with my son, when he suddenly popped his head up above the rocket and announced, ‘Mum, this veg-patch looks an absolute mess!’.

And that’s the problem with a permaculture plot, it looks slightly odd to the untrained eye. This weekend was gloriously hot, and as I walked around I could see plants coming back to life after the winter: rhubarb buds starting to shoot, the artichoke (or ladybird houses, as they’re known here) growing – it all gladdens the heart of a smallholder.

But when friends pop round and say, ‘Ian tells us you’ve been busy in the garden, let’s have a look,’ I feel a mild embarrassment at showing them around my plots, which resemble a wilderness strewn with old straw. I no longer have the heart to explain about sheet-mulching, about how covering the soil with decaying organic matter is actually very healthy and saves time on weeding. I can tell that they are slightly disappointed. In this part of the world, the sign of a good veg-gardener is when you can see an expanse of bare earth, neat and tidy with no weeds. Useless to explain that a covering of straw actually helps the soil structure and protects the organisms in the soil, retains moisture, etc; they just think I don’t know what I’m doing! As a friend once said, ‘Permaculture? It’s just an excuse for a mess, isn’t it?’

So, despite the mess, a lot of work was achievd this weekend. We’ve planted some leeks, rocket, spinach and sprouts under glass. For some, this means a lovely looking cold-frame, for us this means a few bricks and some pieces of glass found in the attic (see pics). I know it will work just as well, and cost nothing. Long live self-sufficiency!

We buy little puddings that come in the cute glass jars pictured left. I’m fed up of chucking them into the recycling, but I just can’t think of a good second-life for them. I’ve got a huge pile in one of my cupboards, and we do use some of them as candle holders… but I need other creative uses.

Anyone got some ideas? Please!!!

It’s March, and I’ve started, as in previous years, to get my first enquiries from ‘WWOOFers’. For those who don’t know, WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) is an organisation that allows host farms run on organic principles offer food, lodging and experience in exchange for help. It’s a rich and rewarding experiece for hosts and WWOOFers (as they’re known) all over the world; it’s a chance for people to have interesting cultural and social interactions because WWOOFers join in, not just with the work side of life, but also the personal side - helping to prepare the evening meal or playing with the kids, etc.

We’ve had a handful of WWOOFers in the past, not that many because back then we were much smaller-scale than we hope to be here. But we’ve always enjoyed meeting the people who came to stay with us and I’ve found it a great boost to my productivity as well as really enjoying showing like-minded people some of my techniques and ideas, or learning some of theirs. Some WWOOFers are very experienced, whereas others are fresh out of school and only know the basics – either way you have to plan for their stay and be prepared to teach them your ways of doing things, and learn from what they have to offer you.

Last year I read a number of mesages from other hosts complaining that fewer and fewer volunteers are contacting them. Some of these host farms really need WWOOFers in order to survive, maybe because they are living in such isolated locations, or because their margins are so low that they cannot afford to pay for help. Because organic farms are more labour intensive, the help offered by WWOOFers could be crucial to success.

If you know anyone who would enjoy WWOOFing, please let them know about the organisation.