The Move
As I begin writing this second post I am sat in a budget hotel in Cardiff City Centre. I say budget, but today I learned that during December the prices skyrocket and guests eager to experience Christmas festivities in this metropolitan city are paying upwards of £400 per night. I think I’ll stay on the farm thanks.
Cardiff has changed a lot in the nine years since I last visited. Lego-style buildings have popped up all around the station and the strip is awash with gimmicky pubs and clubs, catering perfectly for students, hen and stag dos alike. They were probably always gimmicky but perhaps my twenty-something self never noticed? I opted to dine at a little Italian restaurant with a 4.9 google review rating that was situated in the Brewery Quarter. The food was nice enough (though not a scratch on my favourite Italian in Rochester, shout out to Don Vincenzo), however it was overwhelmingly noisy. Inside blasting through the speakers was Italian music, loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to drown out the cacophony of conflicting sounds coming from the other bars and pubs in the immediate vicinity. Altogether it made for a rather raucous dining experience, although it didn’t stop me staying for dessert.
It has been a little over one week since I moved to South West Wales and the best way I can describe it is a whirlwind. The highs and lows of the last month have finally caught up with me and I am knackered. A celebratory glass of sherry in the evening has been a delicious, though not necessary, nightcap. Saying goodbye to my life in Kent was harder than I expected, like slowly ripping off a plaster from my hairy arm. How many of the people who have been staple figures in my life for the last few years would I never see again? How many would promise to visit but never find the right timing? It’s not the first time I have relocated, I know how these things go, even with the best intentions connections fall away.
My new home is full of character. The living room ceiling is high with exposed beams, the kitchen a little after-thought tacked onto the side. To make up for the lack of cupboard space, my husband Jolly has lovingly crafted two secondhand wardrobes into makeshift pantries. On my to-do list is painting a folk-art inspired mural on each of the doors. There is also a sun room with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a small grass area leading to a steep tree strewn bank. The land itself is magical, my favourite area is in Jolly Meadow; Dad cut a path so that we can walk along the edge of the stream that demarcates the wiggly border of our property. It’s a prime spot for mushrooms, I think I would grow there too if I were a little fungi.
In the field titled Big Mead we are currently hosting two donkeys named Big Ears and Little Ears, inquisitive old men who are providing us with an ample supply of poo we can use to fertilise the soil in the veggie gardens. In terms of keeping the grass down, there’s still a lot of munching for them to do. The Donkey Field (not to be confused with Big Mead, the field we keep the donkeys in) is the home of the chickens. Since my arrival we have purchased five more - three grey speckled and two black and brown - who are slowly getting used to the two original, confident, ginger chooks, meaning we have seven in total. On our family whatsapp we asked for suggestions on naming the new chickens. In a conversation that almost certainly confused my (nearly) ninety year old grandad, my cousins came up with Big Bad Barrys, so that is how they shall now be known.
I helped Lulu, my sister in law, to plant fruit trees in the Donkey Field. We currently have two cherry trees, one apple and one pear tree growing happily, and two plum trees that aren’t looking too perky although we are hopeful of their tenacity to live. Planting the trees was a funny experience and a lesson for me in animals and children. No sooner had I dug the spade into the ground the ginger chooks were at my feet scratching for worms, rapidly followed by my nephew trying to stroke the chickens. As we dug, which was a slow process for the aforementioned reasons, the heavens opened, soaking us to our bones. My nephew didn’t bat an eyelid, he is a fearless country boy already. Even in the short time I’ve lived here his repertoire of animal noises has doubled. His first, and probably favourite, word outside of ‘da da’ and ‘ma ma’ is ‘tractor’ shortly followed by ‘tree’ and ‘dog’. I’m yet to teach him to say ‘Aunty Lauren’.
Speaking more broadly of lessons, at the start of September I asked Lulu what the biggest revelations for her have been since being on the farm for five months. ‘The first couple of years are a trial, and we are discovering as we go’, her voicenote response begins. ‘I didn’t know how big spiders were in Wales, especially in the garden - in the garden beds they are HUGE’. She explained how they are harmless and there to do a job althoughI can’t say the thought of big spiders thrills me. So far I have found two in the house that were of an evictable size, although my general rule is so long as they stay out of my way I’ll stay out of theirs.
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‘I realised that for next year I will start planting tomatoes way earlier, obviously we were limited by time as we arrived mid-April and so by the time we had everything ready and all that, it was already mid-May when we started planting. The problem is that with the weather, by the time the tomatoes are ready they are not getting red so we have loads on the vines but they are not getting red that quickly. September arrived and the sun wasn’t as present as it was in August for example.’ Even in the short period since I have arrived, mum has been busy turning green tomatoes into chutney and salsa. No prizes for guessing what everyone is getting for Christmas. Knowing when to begin planting is important, as is learning where things grow best. ‘Next year I am really putting my foot down because pumpkins should not be in a poly tunnel as they just overtake everything, and beans as well. They should have arches outside’. Tomatoes and pumpkins aren’t the only things that have grown generously. According to Lulu, ‘you only need a couple of plants of cucumber and they will give you so much.’ From text conversations with the family throughout summer, it seems that pickling has been a near constant task, along with making jams. ‘We have a lot of pollinators, we had an abundance of produce so we are really grateful about this. We had kilos of raspberries, one that fruits in June and one that gives fruit in August. I think the ones in August are loganberries so they are not as spikey.’
‘I also discovered how difficult it is to do any gardening when you have a baby and a toddler. Going through the stages with him you don’t get things done as quickly as you could if you were by yourself. It is also very fun to do it with him. My favourite thing in the world is to give him produce from the garden as we are gardening in it. For example I would be harvesting beans and I would turn around and I can give him raspberries and he just opens his little mouth and waits for me to post it and it’s just the best feeling. He must have eaten kilos of blackberries in August. It was just so funny, his poo was purple.’
‘Despite the fact the previous owners put lots of weed matting and plastic everywhere we were able to have life in the soil, which was great. So hard work pays off and nature provides if you look after her, so that was great to see the results of everything. It wasn’t dead, the plastic didn’t kill everything.’ This is a great sign, my brother, Liam, has been really thoughtful about how we can ensure the soil is healthy. When the tomatoes and beans were cut out over the last week, marking the end of their season, he was sure to leave the roots in the earth so as to maintain its structure and provide further nutrients as they breakdown. Other positive signs have been the volume of earthworms within the beds despite the plastic matting, and the various little mushrooms that have popped up.
Even with garden tours where mum, Lulu or Liam point out and name each plant that grows I am struggling to remember what they all are. I’m looking forward to getting involved more and forming my own connection to the plantlife we are tending. I’ve noticed that I enjoy getting stuck in generally too. Mum and I cut back the brambles around the hot tub area and down the side of the office-fridge-DIY shed, we were at it for hours coming away scratched yet victorious. Managing the land requires a fair amount of tedious tasks from shovelling donkey poop and stripping brambles, yet there is something oddly rewarding in each activity. The to-do list may never be over, but what would life be without a list of odd jobs to keep us busy?
See you on the flipside x
