The fetching of manure is a delicate business, involving favours from two people I haven't seen much of lately. I need to borrow Dunk's little pickup for a couple of hours, and then there's Mrs Whisky-Sniffler who owns the pile of manure in question. Happily Mrs WS still feels vaguely indebted to me for the whole cider-making business last year; even though she may not be up for it in 2008 I think she'll quite happily allow us to take her apples in exchange for a couple of gallons of the resultant brew, and she certainly won't mind me helping myself to a mere truckful of delicious, crumbly horse manure or two.
Dunk's another matter, since there is always an element of risk involved in moving the truck. At all. Last time it was a warning about the suspension, so I took it easy while crossing the fields - that warning is still in place, but now it's been joined by the cryptic "If you smell burning, yank hard on the dashboard and pull all the wires out. You can put them back in once things have cooled down a bit". Ohhhh-kay.
Dunk's also got a completely different world view to me, and I can't work it out. On one hand he pretends to be a Celt for a living - he's an "historical interpreter" at a nearby field study centre - but on the other he's politely disinterested in anything ecological, from transition economy worries right down to growing so much as herbs in a window box. I can't work it out. Still, we do share a passion for role-playing, so in exchange I drove him to Poole and joined in his usual game, allowing him to have some alcohol for a change. He's easy to please.
So I'm good to go - have truck, have poo. All this is in aid of bringing two new areas into cultivation; two perennials beds and a corn patch. The perennials beds will be used for things like nine-star broccoli and globe artichokes as well as for growing biennials like parsnips and leeks for seed - something that I could also do in flower beds. If I had any! Now all I have to do is give the two areas a fork over and let the chickens kick them to death looking for bugs and roots - oh, wait. That means finishing the chicken tractor, doesn't it?
4 comments:
Ah yes, we have almost run out of poo too ... time to visit the local riding school. We enlist the help of a local salt of the earth farmer .. .you can tell if they are salt of the earth because they have a hole in their jumper, their trousers are held up with blue bailing twine and there is a rusted safety pin on their shirt sleeve not doing anything useful.
Have you grown 9 star broc before? I only just discovered it existence this year and have a packet of seed ready to go.
that cat pic cuts a bit close to the bone in these here parts. All we have is a lot of cat poo. Is it so very wrong to fantasise about nice, firm, green, not-very-offensive horsey poo? Ooh I'd love some of that. I'm a bit jealous.
That's an intrepid mission with the scary truck - sounds like a very...soviet kind of vehicle(?) How did it go? Are you still with us HW?
Thanks for writing this.
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