Category: happiness

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Scything for Sassenachs

One of my early blog posts from 2019, before we moved onto the croft, was about us wanting to buy an Austrian scythe to work the land.

It feels like another milestone achieved in that our first scythe arrived in the post a few days ago.

Of course, once husband had assembled and peened the scythe (oooh, technical scythy term there 😊) it was clearly time to don the silly face and swoop around the croft like DEATH from a Terry Pratchett novel.

It was a mercy for us all that he doesn’t own a hoodie…

(Dog watching in trepidation from the safety of the caravan).

On a more serious note, it was lovely to watch him cutting a swathe through the reed clumps with an increasingly confident, relaxed swing. No petrol fumes, no engine noise, no protective face shield.

Just the sound of the birds, the burble of the burn and the gentle swishing noise of the blade through the weeds.

Every bit as good as we’d imagined.

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Guttering

We’ve been waiting for a break in the weather in order to fit the guttering on the house. Standing on a ladder in fifty mile an hour winds is no-one’s idea of a good time!

At last. The weather for the last few days on the island has been dry and clear with light winds, and it looks like it will hold for a good few days more.

My job is holder-of-the-ladder and passer-up-of-tools, brackets and gutter lengths. And maker of tea.

Husband is doing all the technical stuff like measuring, drilling, aligning and connecting.

All the easy stuff 😊…

We’ve gone for Lindab galvanised steel guttering.

It goes well aesthetically with the wood cladding, is solidly well made, can cope with the vast amount of rain we have on the island – as it’s extra wide and deep – and isn’t plastic. Not that there’s anything wrong with plastic, but we preferred not to use it.

We have lots still to fit, and are working our way around the house starting with the back. Let’s hope the weather gods smile upon us.

I was standing holding the ladder today, listening to the silence of the afternoon on this exposed island hillside, the only noise occasional birdsong. And I thought to myself, how life has changed.

How lucky I am.

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The Vault of Black Gold

On a couple of dry days this week husband built and put up a compost bin.

I say a compost bin, it’s more a super deluxe compost city. The worms in this complex will be living in ultimate compost style, the Des Res of Decomposition, the Mansion of Manure, the Penthouse of Poo, our very own Vault of Black Gold! 😉

With three bays, removable front slats for easier inspection and turning, and a roof (yet to come) to protect from the worst of the elements, I’m so pleased with how it’s turned out.

We have a tonne of organic, peat free bought compost with which we’ll start the beds off this year, and we’ll layer the homegrown stuff with what’s left of this.

I’ve found a local lady with donkeys on her croft who is happy to give us bags of straw and donkey poo, and Angus, our village crofter keeps cows, so I think maybe a conversation there could be had too.

That and applications of seaweed from the local shoreline as well as vegetable waste and croft scythings and I’m really hopeful that it will be successful.

With a bit of luck from the soil gods this time next year we’ll be digging in our very own black gold.. 😊

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Herbage and Seeds

The urge to grow new things is very strong. We have no greenhouse or polytunnel yet, so I’ve set up a small space in one of the rooms in the caravan to start my seeds off. Luckily this room still has the old carpet down so it doesn’t matter if it gets grubby.

Balanced somewhat precariously on old cardboard boxes and a heat mat, and wedged between boxes of spare clothes and the hoover, are my first trays of seedlings. The blue wands of wonder are moved around to those plants that seem to need them most. It’s not exactly a professional set up, but it will do!

I’ve tried to choose plant varieties carefully to ensure that they’re hardy for our exposed site, but this first year is going to be very much an experiment.

I know that I’ve probably started too early for these northern altitudes, but I was itching to start. If they get too leggy I’ll just have to re-sow.

I have garlic ready to plant out. We eat lots of that, and I have more to plant directly into the soil once the beds are ready.

I have seed potatoes chitting ready for planting in the coming weeks. A local crofter recommended two varieties that I’m going to be trying, with good flavour but also good blight resistance.

I also have beetroot, chard, leeks, sorrel, parsley (it germinated! Hallelujah!) and Sutherland kale sown and just starting to grow.

Husband has been working on the construction for our compost bays too, which we need to start as soon as possible. The price of good compost in the quantities we will need is eye-watering, and I’d much rather we made our own.

I’ve also just finished reading this book. A total inspiration, a really interesting story and full of very practical advice about growing abundantly, organically and using no-dig principals. It’s just come out, so do source a copy if you get the chance.

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The barter economy

There’s something very nourishing about an exchange that doesn’t involve money and something very warming about the generosity of a local community.

Here on the island, our neighbours are generous and giving. We’ve received gifts of home made oatcakes, snowdrops, daffodil bulbs, chocolate, locally made candles, wine and other small gifts since we arrived. It’s touching and heartwarming whenever this happens.

Lockdown here can be difficult for people, especially when shopping involves icy roads and long distances, so I often text a few neighbours before we set out for the supermarket to check whether we can pick anything up for them.

On the last occasion we picked up a few low value items for a neighbour and were given a bottle of wine in exchange! Such a lovely gesture.

Today, friends from a few villages away have dropped off (socially distanced) a homemade curry in a huge le crueset pot, a delicious looking Murghi, and as I couldn’t have them leave empty handed, I baked them a lemon drizzle cake.

The ties of community are strong here. Even whist we are all apart, generosity thrives. I love that.

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Slow days

Everything has dipped this week. I’ve noticed both husband and I gradually losing energy and becoming slower and more reluctant to do things.

I don’t know if it’s the short, cold days, the effect of this prolonged lockdown, or a combination of both, but we are drooping a bit.

Problems with the build and trying to find ways to correct the problems (thank you builders), the prospect of further supply delays and scarcity of materials, and costs going up steeply with new import taxes (thank you Brexit) have probably contributed to our general malaise and lack of energy.

We will get through this. It’s just a few slow days.

All I can do is keep morale up as much as I can for both of us.

I know that pear pancakes and lemon drizzle cake with tea later in the day won’t solve anything, but they’re sweet and comforting and do make us feel a little better.

So that’s what we’ve been doing this week. In between jobs we wrap up in blankets, drink tea and eat cake.

My way of getting through the dark days.

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The Walnut Tree

A wonderful parcel arrived in the post yesterday. Carefully wrapped and attached to a wooden stake was a young walnut tree.

This was a gift from a friend as a moving-in present, and had been dispatched from a specialist supplier in England when the planting time was deemed right.

We were a bit concerned that the ground up here would still be frozen, but a few exploratory shovelfuls established that the soil was fine beneath the grass and rush cover.

We chose a spot that was in full sun, relatively flat (as walnuts don’t like steep slopes) and with some shelter from the prevailing south westerlies from the bank of trees nearby on the western boundary of the croft.

Husband dug the hole. The soil is surprisingly fertile and loamy, and we managed to get to 60-80cm before hitting shale. I hope that it will be enough for the little tree.

Our very first tree planting on the croft, and hopefully the first of many.

Thank you so much, Jo x

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Snow on the croft

We awoke this morning to a white blanket of snow over everything again. The temperatures had fallen overnight and it had snowed for several hours.

Getting up and started is the hardest thing when it’s cold like this.

Breakfast was taken by the fire with both of us wrapped up in a blanket, bobble hats and fingerless gloves until the fire gradually warmed the room.

We watched as the light changed constantly around us, the skies moving from thunderous grey to bright blue and back again as the storm fronts raced across the sky.

The snow is properly deep now, and the access track to the croft is icy and compacted and probably impassable for the moment, unless it was an emergency.

This would of course happen as I was about to replenish food stores with my regular shop, but we have plenty of stores, and bread flour and yeast to make rolls. The small oven here would struggle with a big loaf but it manages rolls and smaller breads just fine.

I’ve been baking every day, and making soup, curries and stews to make sure that we stay warm.

I know that this would send some people absolutely stir crazy, but I quite like it. It’s quiet and cosy. We have the work on the house, our books, cooking and seed planning and planting to keep us busy.

Contentment.

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The teapot of desire

I love tea.

Husband not so much… We generally stagger into the mornings fortified with coffee, but I could drink tea at any point during the day. When I was working it was only the consumption of several cups of tea between meetings that kept me going.

After reading about the amount of microplastics that leach into your cup from most brands of teabag, including Yorkshire Tea – my go-to brew of choice for many years – I decided that enough was enough. I would go back to using proper leaf tea and make a bit of a celebration of it.

And so, I bought a teapot. Made by a potter from a local village, I loved it as soon as I spotted it.

I loved the shape, and the subtle markings on the clay body. I loved that it holds 1.3 litres of tea! That’s a goodly few mugfuls, with the capacity for seconds if needed.

My afternoon routine now revolves around time for a proper cup of tea in the caravan, as I browse the seed catalogues, look out at the rain/sleet/snow of a Skye winter, and prepare dinner.

I’d quite forgotten how delightful that was.

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House build progress

It’s been a while since I shared anything on the housebuild itself, so I thought with the onset of the new year that it was time.

There’s been only slow progress on the house over the last few months, due to a number of factors like the move, setting up the caravan, problems with the caravan, supply delays, and to be honest, things that we have discovered need remedying before we can go further with the build.

Whilst we’re in dialogue with the builders to check a number of things, husband has been able to work on improving the air tightness of the construction by sealing every gap and then foil taping all the wall seams to ensure that we can be as draught-free as possible.

That work is slow and painstaking, especially in the 6m high gable end of the house, necessitating internal scaffolding, and has taken a number of weeks. It’s only now that we’re nearly ready to start applying insulating foil to the walls.

We had originally hoped to be ready for underfloor heating and screed by now, so we’re running about a month behind our original estimates, but to be honest with the new Covid lockdown restrictions and Brexit, I’m just happy to be able to be able to make any progress at all.

I’m sure that there will be many more delays to hit us yet. Never was there such a bad time to work on a house build from a building supplies perspective! 🤔

We’re not despondent, though. It can’t be helped and we will do as much as we can within the constraints that we face.

In the meantime, we continue to be awed by the sheer beauty of the landscape around us, and are serenaded by our raven from the old Scots pine as dawn breaks every morning, complaining that it’s time our sorry asses were out of bed.

It really couldn’t be much better.