Tag: isleofskye

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Carrots at last

I’ve been watching the posts of successful gardeners up here with envious eyes as they cropped fistfuls of carrots from their vegetable plots.

Carrots from the croft beds

I have been pulling the odd carrot here and there from my raised bed over the last month to see if there was anything much underneath the profusion of feathery green. I’ve prodded and pulled. To date, all to no avail. Up until this week all I’d found were a few pencil thin offerings.

Checking the beds a few days ago I noticed that some of the carrots were going to seed! Horrors. How could they go to seed on me without delivering as promised?

Armed with my fork I resolved to find edible carrots or else dig them all up and return the space to something more productive.

I’d sown two types from Real Seeds in the spring – the gloriously named Manchester Table carrot and the equally exotic yellow French heritage variety, Jaune D’obtuse. Surely one of them should have produced something by now.

I knew that I hadn’t thinned them very well. When the time came in early summer, something in me just baulked at pulling out young, healthy plants, and much as I understood that it was needed, I also suspected that my half-hearted attempts at thinning hadn’t been nearly rigorous enough. As such I was expecting skinny, weedy specimens at best.

My delight was complete when I delved into the forest of carrot rows and pulled up some good sized carrots.

Croft vegetables ready for roasting

We roasted the first of these today with beets, potatoes, onions and garlic, all grown by us. They were delicious.

It’s just a carrot. But it’s my very first homegrown one, and it tasted all the better for that.

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Live music is back!

One of the things that used to be a huge part of our lives and which we’ve missed since lockdown began has been live music.

Being on the Isle of Skye doesn’t mean that gigs stop. Far from it. The nature of them is a little different (we’re unlikely to be seeing the Foo Fighters in the tent at Armadale any time soon), but we are rich in local musicians and there is a very active music scene here.

I’ve always preferred small venue music anyway – the intimacy and immediacy of a band or singer just a few metres away is, to my way of thinking, a much more real experience than being part of a crowd so big that the best view is via the video stream screens.

Innes Watson and Ross Ainslie

This summer SEALL was able to restart its festival programme, albeit with social distancing and other Covid protection measures in place. Established in 1991, the name means Look or See in Gaelic and is pronounced “Shall”. It celebrates the wealth of home grown musical talent in the area.

The first of the events we attended a few nights ago was an evening concert held outdoors in the grounds of Armadale Castle. Innes Watson and Ross Ainslie, two very talented young musicians. It was so good. I love that we celebrate Gaelic culture in its music and that the next generation fuse it so seamlessly with their own creations. We have a few more concerts booked in for July.

Open Air at Armadale Castle

We also watched Skye Live via livestream feed a few nights back. An amazing fusion of traditional and electronica performed and filmed in the Mountains in Skye. I’ve copied a YouTube link to it for those of you that would like to have a taster. https://youtu.be/596iVkMGj-g

Niteworks on the Quiraing

I’m so happy that live music is back.

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Buttercups and Beetles

What a glorious day. The croft is bursting with weeds (aka wildflowers) and we love it. We have buttercups growing in thick profusion next to the vegetable area, and it’s just so beautiful.

I couldn’t help have a bit of an ironic chuckle to myself today too. About two years ago we sowed pignut and bluebell seeds in the little copse on the western boundary before we moved onto the croft.

Now that we live here, we can see that we have a profusion of both popping up all over the croft. There was no need to sow them – they’re growing everywhere here naturally. The impatience and innocence of townies. All we had to do was wait and watch…

Pignuts!
Hawthorn tree in full bloom

This is a beautiful time of the year here on the croft. Everything is in bloom, and the insects (sadly including the midges) are everywhere. It’s a price we’re prepared to pay. Anyway, we’ve got hats and nets…

We wake up each morning to the cuckoo, the skylarks and the swallows wheeling overhead.

I’d got so used to hardly ever seeing insects in the city that it’s been a bit of a shock to find ourselves cohabiting with so many at such close quarters. Weevils, oil beetles, lacewings, strange, alien looking creatures that we don’t know are friend or foe, but which have at least as much right to be here as us.

Google lens and plant apps are being used daily. This is richly diverse meadow and moorland, and we’re loving learning about it.

Oil beetle

The house build continues apace, with plasters and plumbers being lined up to help over the coming months, but it’s very hard not to get seduced into just being on the croft.

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Arctic conditions at 57 degrees north

It’s been a very cold spring so far.

We continue to have frosty mornings and very cold nights, so it’s not been advisable to put out any tender plants without serious fleecing.

My “plant room” in the caravan is still full, and although I’ve planted out a few purple spouting broccoli and beetroot plants, some cabbage, kale, and some sorrel, everything else is under wraps for a bit longer. I’ve direct sown carrots and parsnips into the beds but nothing has germinated yet…. I don’t blame it.

It did give us the opportunity to make another hugelkutur bed with cut reeds as the base, as I’ve estimated that I’ve still grown too much to fit into our prepared growing space. Always a learning, eh?

Everything is heavily mulched with woodchip to try and minimise soil runoff. We’ve almost gotten through a few tonne bags of that already, and I’ve still got the paths around the beds to lay..

Small beginnings. And many learnings.

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Lambing snows

The islanders call late snows in April Lambing Snows. They’re usually the last gasp of winter and come suddenly, just when the lambs are being born in the fields.

We went from bright, warm days to plummeting temperatures within 24 hours. The wind veered suddenly to the North and before we knew it, there were snow blizzards upon us, sweeping rapidly down the Sound in ominous curtains of grey.

Luckily the only thing in the outdoor raised beds were garlic, onions and perpetual leeks. Listening to local advice I’d held off planting out anything tender, and don’t plan to until May. It seems that this advice was very sound!

Temperatures fell to minus 5 degrees centigrade overnight, and barely struggled to hit 2 degrees during the day. The wind was bitingly cold.

Nothing for it but to hunker down indoors..