One, two, miss a few. And here we are at the beginning of May.
A blink of an eye. So much evolving.
I started running. I stopped drinking.
The school holidays have come and gone. One of our children is now legally driving on his own.
The pigs, vegetables and chicks have all grown.
Sydney Royal Easter Show – City meets Country
I revisited a past life attending the Royal Easter Show in Sydney. Catching up with friends from my early twenties. Reminiscing like old folk, sitting in the Members’ Stand, judging from our seats.
I adored show horses – from my early teens. As a child I pored over the Horse Magazine. Dreaming of stunning hacks and beautiful riders with their hair pulled tight over their ears.
Although my focus has shifted, I adore the show. It is an incredible event, bringing the country to the city. In all of its raw, necessary rural abundance.
Cattle, sheep, horses, alpaca, honey, wool and every vegetable imaginable from across the state travel to the big smoke chasing the illustrious broad blue sash.
The cattle pavilion oozes with the aroma of freshly plopped manure. Right in front of your eyes. Or noses. What country folk take for granted, city dwellers writhe and shriek at with shocked nose holding.
It is vital that city dwellers engage even at this basic level with their country cousins. The trials of farming and country life are both heart wrenchingly painful at times. Droughts, floods and rising costs.
Yet the beauty and majesty of a country skyline is something to behold. Like nature herself has let you witness her own private magic. Ethereal skies with masses of twinkling stars. A moon you could reach out and grasp. The Australian Bush, embroidered on my heart. My history – of ancestors with steely grit and determination. Survivors.
Dubai Revisited
One of the most extraordinary farmers working on one of the most extraordinary farms I’ve ever seen was Yazem Al Kodmani, part of the team at Emirates Bio Farm A bountiful organic oasis in the middle of the desert near Dubai.
Alongside Yazem, I was delighted to have been asked to engage with students from the American School of Dubai last week.
Laurence Meyers along with his staff paired students with “Food Experts” to discuss our strategies and ethos around food production.
The students engaged on an insightful level, quizzing me on the circular bio economy. Food waste and consumer relationships.
Fifteen year olds… Such focus and knowledge!
I told them how our aim on the farm was to keep a closed bio economy on the farm. No waste. Any spent grain was fed to the pigs. Any waste eggs went to the work dogs.
How we made compost from hen manure and garden clippings. Their questions revolved around the moral dilemma of GMO’s and sourcing inputs. At their age, I think I was still dreaming of going to Sydney Royal! Their conversations filled me with hope and wonder.
My Australian Garden
We live in a temperate climate. Mild nights have morphed into cold nights with bright sunny days. Despite the sandy soil, the garlic I planted is flourishing. It must be one of those incredible vegetables that just about any eejit can grow. Because I seem to have been able to grow it well on both sides of the equator.
Slugs have been partying, munching their way through my snow peas, beans, tomatoes and okra. The garlic battles on. Undeterred. Lack of water? No problem. Sun? Easy Peasy. Rain? Thank you very much.
The pigs have grown to a size that if they run at me at full tilt (as they do at feed time), they could knock the legs out from under me like a ten pin. Not a great scenario if you are familiar with The Godfather.
They are nearly four months old, and recently barged their way into the house yard and proceeded to completely “pigerate” one of my garden beds.
Despite this, I love having them around. Last week when I posted a video of them frolicking in the sun on Twitter, someone left a comment… “Please don’t eat them”.
It stopped me in my tracks. A pang of guilt reverberating through my chest like fireworks. How could I eat them? It’s a familiar question that always causes me to reflect.
Because I eat meat. I’m not a sadist but I am a realist. When you raise your own animals for consumption, it gives you a very real respect for meat.
There is no waste. The whole process is done with reverence and respect. Each part finds a use.
One of the very real predicaments of our climate and environmental health is food waste. I’m not here to preach but I do feel very strongly about food waste. And animal welfare. And environmental impacts.
By keeping my own pigs I’m able to take waste from our own house (within reason) and nourish our pigs. In turn they provide incredible compost material for our garden. They invigorate the ground they inhabit with minor disturbance when I move their daily pasture.
Eventually there will be a one bad day for them. But it will be carried out on farm. Respectfully. And we will in turn nourish our own family and those around us. It’s not viable for every family to keep pigs (even though they can be raised in quite a small area), but it is possible for us all to make food choices that encourage local food production. Organic if possible.
Everyone has the ability to keep a pot or two of vegetables or salad growing on a windowsill. Take my word for it, once you begin gardening, you won’t want to stop.
I’m revelling in the group chat of the women I shared The Break with in Spain last year. The seeds we all collected are now beginning to grow. Random pics of various vegetables popping up on our WhatsApp chat. Advice sprouting from all corners of Europe (and the Antipodes) on “what plant is this?” and “where do I plant this next”. I love it.
Compost
“Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.
After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.”
A phrase stemming from Zen Buddhism.
My own mantra would be
“When in a dilemma, turn compost.
When in peace, turn compost.”
Compost is my friend. My gym buddy. I turned compost in Ireland. And now I turn compost in Australia. It’s not just for the black gold that will be my reward. Or my core body strength. It’s the mental peace it brings me.
There is a tall lidded bucket in my kitchen. Into it goes a mixture of food scraps, veggie peelings, paper, cardboard, teabags and else lurking mouldily in the bowels of the fridge.
Each day I diligently trek from the kitchen, bucket in hand across the verandah to the far corner of the house yard under a magnificient white trunked gum to the the compost heap.
There I upend the bucket, spilling the contents with a flourishing tap, tap to the base. With the same affection one might pat a baby’s bottom.
After I’ve topped up the pig’s water, I take the hose and lovingly water my compost heap. In Ireland, there was no need. But in Australia, it doesn’t rain every other day and good compost needs water.
Then pitchfork in hand, I move the heap one shovel load at a time.
At the beginning, this was easy. Now with a guesstimate of a tonne of waste, the operation is quite the workout. My own private gym, right in my own back yard.
529 calories burned according to my naggy little Apple Watch friend.
Do you have a compost heap? Do you have a strange addiction to it? Just me?
So much food waste – apparently 30% in most households – ends up in land fill. Home made compost is one of the most beneficial components for successful and nutritionally dense vegetable growing.
The repetitive exercise of turning compost has an incredibly calming effect.
The satisfaction of turning, observing the breakdown of the materials into so life supporting is immeasurable. Don’t believe me?
Start one.
Enjoy the heady aroma as the microbes begin their work breaking cellular waste into useful hummus. Begin collecting all manner of waste. Delight in “Uh-Uh-ing” across your kitchen as a member of the family unsuspectingly attempts to fire a banana peel into the general waste.
A good compost pile has so much to offer. Feel good factor, physical activity, economic benefits and the resultant pile of black gold that your vegetables and garden will be eternally grateful for. You can thank me later.
I’m reading a lovely book called Simplicity by Jodi Wilson.
“It’s natural to fear uncertainty. But what if you embraced it, listened to your intuition and made the tiny or big decisions to slow life down?”
See you next week.
Kylie x