We've had a bit of weather this week round here. Not too drastic, but it disrupt travel somewhat. I had to stay over near work one night, and miss a family visit that would have taken me over the very high routes, but the heating and electricity stayed on throughout, thank goodness. It's been cold, but beautiful. Aside from a couple of snowy walks, we've mostly kept cosy inside. We've taken the opportunity of being stuck inside to get a few things done. We finally got round to rebuilding the bed, which has been dismantled since before Christmas, in need of new slats. I also dug out the seeds and started planning the veg patch, as far away as it feels from being able to plant anything right now. I finally started cleaning the dried on, splattered plaster from when the builders were here. They left over a year ago - I've cleaned the floor in that time of course (even I'm not that bad a housekeeper), but I'd never got down on my hands and knees with a scraper to chip off the rest. Not an exciting job, and one that will take several more hours I fear. I tried a couple of new recipes, and put a few meals into the freezer. I've started ferrying things upstairs into what will be the new craft room (eventually). In the process, I came across this half-made rug, started I think by my sister, many years ago. I'd always meant to finish it, and now I have just the place it will go, so I've dug out some old fabric and started cutting it into strips.
So not really an eventful weekend, but a little bit of progress was made. All you can hope for sometimes.
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This has been a restful weekend, the first one I've felt reasonably well in a while. I've tried not to overdo it, and spent plenty of time just sitting around with a nice cup of tea. The big event of the weekend though, was new chickens, and so most of our activity has been focused on that. We spent Friday afternoon building a partition in the run to keep the new chickens away from the current ones. The current chickens watched all this activity with indignation. On Saturday, Peter stayed at home to finish putting the final touches to the run, and I drove to collect the new ladies. We're still under bird flu rules, so there were strict biosecurity precautions in place. I wasn't allowed to get out of the car, so I didn't see the new ladies until we got home. I talked to them all the way back in the car, telling them about where they were going, and the beaky footsteps they were going to follow in. Skippy is smaller - she came out of the box curious, and it didn't take her long to start digging, scratching, and pecking everything in sight. It's such a lovely sight, knowing these ladies have never seen soil or the sky before, to see them scratching around and staring out of the window. Daisy, on the other hand, was quiet, subdued, and if one of our current chickens had looked like she did, I would have been carting her off to the vets. But rehoming day is always traumatic for these girls. They're pulled out of their cages, put into crates and into a van, driven to the rehoming centre, out of the crates and briefly into a barn, then into boxes, into cars, and driven to their new homes, all in one day. I know I'd be tired and subdued after all that. She does seem a lot brighter today after a good rest. We're keeping the old and new ladies separate for a few days, so they've got their own little house to sleep in, but of course they don't know that's what it's for, having never had a separate house to sleep in before. Last night, we went to the run just after it had gone dark to find Skippy on top of the house, and Daisy up on a perch. We tucked them in nice and cosy. Tonight I went in to find them both on the perch together, cuddled up next to each other. I'm hopeful that tomorrow they'll find their way into the house. The older ladies are, of course, unimpressed. Sunshine and Budgie did a lot of shouting, and even Bessie, who's usually quite placid, joined in the chorus for a while. Things do seem to have settled down a little today - possibly they're reassured that their own treats supply won't be diminished by the intruders. Poor things. We've never had any that had lost all their feathers, but they do usually look pretty moth-eaten and ragged when they arrive. The story is that they're moulting, and that may well be the case, but ours have moulted every year and yes, there are feathers all over the run, but they never look like this. I can't wait for them to start preening and dust bathing. Anyway, this weekend hasn't all been about chickens, although the majority of it has been. I've finally got round to making soap, for only the second time since we moved here - I'll report back on the new recipe once I know it's properly worked. I've finally finished painting the second coat of yellow onto the kitchen walls - I started the first coat in November 2021 so this is quite an achievement! It's not quite felt like there's a hint of spring in the air, but my thoughts have started to turn a little towards the garden (in between torrential downpours), and I managed to plant out the hellebore my sister gave me for Christmas. And yes, a cafe trip or two, and a bit of plotting and scheming and letter writing. All in all, a most satisfactory weekend.
Today is my last day off work, and right now I'm not feeling ready to go back tomorrow. I can't complain. I've had 24 days off - nearly an entire month - and I'm well aware how fortunate I am. We had all kinds of plans, and sadly many of them have been abandoned through one person or another being ill. We managed to get as far as Christmas eve before Peter got ill, and then I caught it too, the day after my race, and we've both been snivelling and snuffling and coughing and spluttering ever since, staying in separate rooms, well away from each other. Still, I am trying to slowly ease myself out of illness and back into activity, and as part of that I'm trying to pin down my days, to make me remember what I've been doing. I did make a trip to see some of my family, which was lovely, although the drive wiped me out all of the following day. Closer to home, we wrapped up and wandered down an unfamiliar footpath in a familiar town, and although the weather was a bit grim, it was nice to be out, and to see the beginnings of green shoots in the ground. One day, we sneaked the chickens into the house - a rare treat under the avian flu lockdown. While Peter supervised their shenanigans, I took the opportunity of having them out of the way to clear out their run, digging several barrows of compost out and tipping it onto the veg beds, and getting soaked in the process by the fine mist. It felt good to be doing something out in the garden, even if only for an hour, and it felt good to have the run all nicely tidied up, ready for the arrival of the new chickens next weekend. It's warmer (and drier) inside the house of course, and I've been pottering about finishing the thermal blinds and painting a second coat on the kitchen. I created quite a mess in the process, but slowly things are coming together, with little corners here and there almost seeming finished. So, it's back to work for me tomorrow. From home, thank goodness - easing myself in gently.
I confess I have a new, not-so-secret plan for this year. After a lot of pondering and staring at my diary, I've realised it might just be possible for me to be at work for less than half of the days in every month this year. Wouldn't that be a thing? For me, 2022 has been a fairly gentle year, a much needed rest after the chaos of 2021 and the strangeness of 2020. Let's have a little look back at how the year unfolded. I started with a review of 2021, declaring that I wanted 2022 to be more restful, and to keep the house slightly less chaotic - which I'm pleased to say have both been achieved. My post about December on the homestead showed the state the house had become, and I'm delighted it's never got to that level since. January on the homestead was a busy one - we didn't do any DIY, but we looked after a family member's dog while they were in hospital, and sadly lost Bunty chicken. On the homestead in February, we had lots of weather, noticed signs of spring, and started painting the kitchen (which I'm ashamed to say I still haven't finished!) March on the homestead was productive. The chickens were still in flockdown under the Avian Flu housing order, and we had two rather expensive home visits for Bessie, our oldest chicken. I did some batch cooking, painted the bedroom, cleaned out the greenhouse, turned the compost, cleared the veg garden, and finally took the Christmas tree down. In April, I pondered how to make this place feel more like home and less like a building site. My April on the homestead post shows that I spent a lot of time outside. We hired a power scythe to tackle the remainder of the hay field (which we won't be repeating), strimmed the garden, and ate our first meal of the year outdoors. In May, I talked about some local adventures I'd had, did some more wandering, and vowed to do even more in the future (which I never quite got round to). May on the homestead was pretty cheerful. The avian flu housing order was lifted, so the chickens could roam free again. I retreated from the internet and found a whole load more time. I finally got round to planting some seeds, and tidied up quite a bit in the house and garden. June on the homestead felt busy, although I wasn't sure there was much to show for it at the time. I harvested some fruit, wheelbarrowed a lot of woodchip, did some spring cleaning, and we had our dog friend to stay again for a few days. In July, I found myself getting back to making things - in this case a blanket for a friend's baby, a new hot water bottle cover, and some washing liquid (which I'm still not even half way through). In July on the homestead, we did a lot of lazing around with the chickens, tidied odd corners of the house, and pondered the general state of the garden (which was rather out of hand). Then I caught covid for the first time, and spent yet more time sitting around sewing. In August we sadly lost Bonny chicken. August on the homestead was all about scything, and it looked like we might just get a decent apple crop (spoiler - we didn't). September on the homestead involved yet more scything, and considerable progress was made. Moles took over the garden, I made Peter a new hat, we made a hay box, and I took part in the local well dressing. September was a nicely sociable month, so not much else done, but we spent a lot of time hanging around with other people, which was lovely. In October, we had a little trip to the seaside. On the homestead, my thoughts turned to the cold weather ahead, and I had a little foray into carpet fitting, and started making thermal blinds. In November, we unexpectedly lost Poppy chicken. We took a trip to Edinburgh for a wedding, and had a few local days out. In November on the homestead, I made more progress on my thermal blinds, and sewed some present bags. Sadly, the bird flu housing order came even earlier this year, so they went into flockdown quite early in November, having only been out for just over six months. I hope this doesn't become an annual occurrence, but it's looking increasingly likely that it will. December on the homestead saw yet more thermal blinds (for the kitchen this time), more present bags, and the start of some rather chilly weather.
So overall, 2022 was indeed more restful than 2021, and the house did stay the right side of chaos for most of the year, although I have despaired occasionally at how long it's taking us to get everything finished. And what about 2023? I'd like to write on here more - for most of 2022 I only managed one post a month, and while I'm glad I did that, I do miss more regular ramblings. I'm hesitant to make any predictions, but I'd like 2023 to be a year of progress, where I feel like a few jobs get ticked off the DIY list. I'd like the kitchen and dining room to be finished, to have properly moved into the new bedroom (the mattress is still just on the floor at the minute), and to have set up my craft room. I'd like the stairs to be finished, and maybe even to have made a start on the bathroom. Outside, I want the chickens to finally get their new extension, the whole hay field to be scythed (I got so close in 2022!), the garden to be productive, all fruit and veg to be harvested, processed, and stored away in a beautiful pantry. Not too much to ask, is it? |
Hello!Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I'm Jenni, and I write here about our new foray into country living, which includes growing food, knitting, baking, wandering around the fields, and seeing which local cafe serves the best cake. Categories
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