June in Mid Devon

Flaming June after two years of washout – it’s been pure bliss – particularly a picnic supper at the top of the hill, basking in the sun’s lowering rays, debating the location of church towers in the far-flung distance, and feasting on the first strawberries, with gooseberry puree, honey and clotted cream. The cream was not from Bertie’s Cottage, but skimmed from the milk of the very cows that grazed the sward on which we were sitting, then ‘scalded’ by our kindly neighbour, on her kitchen stove.

Smallholding may be hard work, and I’m permanently grubby and dishevelled, but what better way is there to end a day than sharing food fit for gods with your family, smelling roses to the serenade of birdsong, and following the slow trajectory of a still-warm sun as it dips down over the horizon?

I had guarded the secret of the first strawberries zealously to allow for the crucial extra day’s ripening that deepens their red and maximises flavour and sweetness, but now, in addition to the slugs (foiled by growing them in hanging baskets) and blackbirds (scared away by pendant CDs), an altogether trickier pest (of the tall tail-less variety) is plundering the patch!

Bertie's Cottage Smallholding courses

Patti will be running day courses on sustainable small-holding at Bertie’s Cottage on July 4, August 22, September 19 and October 10. Price £75 per person. For more information please contact bertiescottage@hotmail.com or Tel. 01647 24704

Alchemy in the compost heap

The art of rotting animal and vegetable waste might sound unappealing to the uninitiated, but the rewards of successful composting cannot be overstated. I recently parted the straw that covered a heap I made late last autumn (and had not touched since). The contents were even, moist, crumbly brown, a-wriggle with worms and with a pleasant earthy, almost sweet smell. Five star compost – I was very excited – from weeds, straw and animal waste (plus a dose of seaweed, some ground limestone and eggshells to counteract acidity, and the biodynamic preparations that help guide the process), I now had at my disposal the ultimate present for my plants. Feeding the food chain right at the base, by stimulating the soil life makes for healthy plants with good resistance to pest and disease. In turn these plants pass on their vitality to the animals that eat them, and on again to humans, at the top of the chain. How simply amazing that inside a tepee of thatch, decomposing kitchen waste and chicken poo transform into the elixir of life!

I photographed the giant heap I built last week. The first image shows it three-quarters made, with a bath of water to wet the straw, and a cloth to cover the heap during the scorching hot days. Can you see it’s already steaming from the microbial activity inside? This heat should kill any weed seeds and pathogenic spores – I’ll find out if it was sufficient in the autumn when I spread the compost on my beds.

The middle photo, in the afternoon the following day, shows thick sticks inserted to make channels for my arm to insert the biodynamic herbal preparations right into the centre of the mound.

In the last picture my work is finished, the heap is thatched with straw (saved from stoking a thatcher’s bonfire). This allows it to ‘breathe’, whilst guiding rain to run off and affording protection against drying winds and fluctuations in the temperature. Now I'll just have to wait till November!