Water…. like it is meant to be

If you imagine Tasmania, you probably conjure up pictures of glorious forests, pristine, stony rivers edged with tree ferns and a coastline of hidden bays, far removed from the rush of most of the rest of the world.

It is hard to think of a less frantic place to spend Christmas. I set up my market stall tent by my pond and 4 of us had lunch there yesterday, cooled by a light sea breeze and surrounded by the sounds of frogs. I was the only person who knew each of the others! All residents of Australia now, the 3 of them came from different lands originally…. One South African woman, one German woman and an American man. Perfect. Paradise. No photos.

I think I live in paradise. But today I went to the core of paradise, only 10 minutes or so drive from my house. It is a long and complex story but the gist of it is that the town water supply used to be a gravity fed, mountain spring but now the water is pumped from a busy river and then treated. Some of us would prefer to gather water from a pristine river where no humans or farm animals live upstream, and such places still exist near my home in Tasmania. So we headed to a secret location today, armed with buckets and jugs.

The track was rough but manageable and when we arrived at the end we heard the sound of the rush of water cascading over some rocks into a large, deep pool. After filling our containers, we took our shoes and socks off and sat on a rock with our feet in the icy water, hoping to see a platypus. None appeared but the 10 minutes of silence filled my head with tranquillity. I didn’t take my camera but it looked like the photo below, only the river was not quite so wide.

So, I now have a few weeks’ supply of water the way humans evolved to drink it; full of minerals form the rocks and filtered by nature with no added chemicals. I will keep it stored in a large, ceramic urn (that I found at the tip shop).

How many places are there left where you can find total wilderness so close to home but also, a short walk to the shop and you can buy St. Agur cheese!?

Growing buckwheat between the vines in NZ

Managing biodiversity when growing a monoculture crop is not something every vigneron thinks of doing but there are benefits for the quality of the crop, for the farmers and for those who drink the final result.

This piece is taken from an excellent website called stuff.co.nz

At Te Whare Ra Estate in Renwick, near Blenheim, (north east of the South Island) owners Jason and Anna Flowerday have found an innovative way to use the space between their vine rows - they've planted buckwheat.

Although a strange sight to visitors driving past the rows on the way to the cellar door, growing buckwheat on alternate vine rows had a range of benefits and was a natural way to glean optimum conditions for grapegrowing, Mrs Flowerday said.

The vine rows had about 3 metres of space between them, about 10 hectares of land.

"For us, it's a big area between the vine rows," Mrs Flowerday said.

"So it's about creating something effective for the best use of the land."

Among other species, buckwheat attracted small native wasps by the name of Dolichogenidea tasmanica, which helped get rid of the leaf roller caterpillar pest.

The technique, adopted from what began as a research project nearby at Seresin Estate, allowed them to avoid using chemicals on the vines, Mrs Flowerday said.

"It's about looking for a natural solution to a problem."

Other plant species did a similar job to the flowering buckwheat. However, buckwheat had increased the abundance and longevity of the wasps, it had a short sowing to flowering time, could be managed to produce flowers over the entire grape-growing season, was relatively cheap, and could be killed by frost, which prevented it from becoming a weed.

Buckwheat also attracted a number of other beneficial species including hover flies, lacewings, and ladybirds.

Mr Flowerday said biodiversity and working with the environment naturally was key to maintaining a good vineyard.

Somewhere over the rainbow….and other snippets

 

That little green house across the cow paddock from me is definitely basking in gold, at the end of the rainbow….	….and it came down in my gum trees; can you see it? It was a glorious sight, after the rain.
The Dover Bay Mussels people were at the market as usual. You can’t beat $5 / kg!! So we had mussels for dinner….	….wonderfully delicious and easy after my hectic Cygnet Market stall.
My stall takes up most of the Town Hall stage now and I have a love / hate relationship with it!	Photos taken during a quiet moment but often the whole stage is full of people!
Unpacking deliveries at home, repackaging bulk stuff and then packing for the market is a never ending job. I still enjoy opening the boxes though!	Some of the goodies….
I must admit that I do make bloody good sourdough bread! Left is wholemeal wheat and right is spelt and quinoa…..	Then there’s all the garden produce. This was a scrumptious meal of freshly picked broad beans, leeks, garlic and herbs (all from my garden) on sourdough toast.

At The End Of The Rainbow

© Kathy Lesley

After a terrible rainstorm
In the sky, I saw a rainbow.
All the bright, beautiful colors made me feel so warm
As they dipped down so low.

I thought back to that legend of old
Sitting on my grandfather's knee.
"At the end of the rainbow is a pot of gold,"
He would say to me.

Every time I would see a rainbow
In that big, beautiful sky so bold
I would cross my fingers and make a vow,
"I would be the one to find that pot of gold."

So one day I bid my family and friends good-bye
As I started on my journey, following that rainbow.
I walked away quickly, knowing if I lingered I would cry.
I left to find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

But as I travelled so far and so long,
I could not find the end of that elusive rainbow.
Feeling very sad, I began to hear a song;
A song from my childhood so sweet and low.

By the song I was sold.
No more did I need to roam.
In all that time I was searching for that pot of gold,
It was with my family and friends, at home.

Source: At The End Of The Rainbow, Home Poem

Re-inventing the art of sock making, in Tasmania

I have seen Mongrel Socks in a local shop in Cygnet but had no idea about the story behind them until now…... I bought some for my mother last winter and she LOVES them.

A couple of pre-World War Two era knitting machines, a cappuccino steamer and some experimentation can make a business.

Helen and Laurie Timms used to sell woollen socks in Hobart that had been made in Launceston at the Tamar Knitting Mills.

When that factory closed down, rather than buy socks from interstate, the Timms decided to have a go with making the socks themselves to sell.

To do this, the Timms needed some knitting machines. So they bought two old models from the Tamar Knitting Mills.

"We got friendly with the manager and we used to sell the socks they made on the machines," says Laurie.

The Timms bought two of the machines, one made in 1927 and one in 1930.

"Took us two years to get the second one going and it turned out to be a very simple small part," says Laurie.

The machines chug away in the Timms' shed in Cambridge now, making a pair of socks in 10 minutes, producing the socks a string, like sausages.

When they took the machines the Timms knew nothing about making the socks.

"We thought 'How hard could it be?' and it was really, really hard," says Helen.

The socks they make are made with pure wool with some nylon in the heel to make them long wearing, but other than that the socks are pretty much just the same as when the machines were new, close to 100 years ago.

Once the socks are knitted, there's a bit of sewing around the toes and the socks are steamed, to shrink the wool so the socks don't shrink when you buy them and wash them.

The steaming is done by hand, using a coffee machine they bought in Hobart.

The name of the Timms' company, Mongrel Socks, has come to have two meanings.

"The name for the product came about because of the nature of the multicoloured knit, so it's a real mixture, a mongrel," explains Helen.

"But actually it has turned out to be much more descriptive of the machinery. It's given us merry hell."

Despite the problems the Timms had in the first two years, and the fact that replacement parts have to be improvised or custom made, they have no plans to modernise the machinery.

There's little point, explains Laurie, as the newer machines work in rather than same way anyway, only using computer programs and perhaps working a little faster.

But the Timms don't plan to mass produce their mongrel socks.

"Tasmania can't compete on mass produced items, so we really have to target niches," says Helen.

It did take the Timms a bit of searching to be able to find a Tasmanian wool supplier, becase all the best wool was sold overseas before local producers could get it.

But they've currently got a local wool supplier, producing certified Tasmanian, non-mulesed merino wool, adding to the Tasmanian nicheness of the socks and small business.

Interview with Helen and Laurie Timms by Jo Spargo, featured on Your Afternoon.

Raw Milk…. a heart-wrenching look at why people want it

Watch the first bit and, if you don’t want to watch all 41 minutes then skip to 33 minutes and watch to the end.

In case you don’t have a garden….

but you have a can….. and no can opener…. this could be VERY useful next time you go camping!

Favourite Food Page

Although I have only put 5 entries on my Favourite Food page at the top of this blog so far, they truly do epitomise what excites me, with food. As soon as I step out the back door I am in my vegetable garden. My clothes line has just enough room to swing and is surrounded by vegetable garden on all sides. To get to the chook yard I walk through it. To get to my green house or little tool shed or the back gate requires walking one of the vegetable garden paths. If you are just starting out growing food, I would highly recommend this set-up!

Not having to deliberately go to the vegetable garden means I see it every day. I can pick things at their most perfect or notice if something is getting damaged by snails, is becoming overgrown by something else or is drying out or about to go to seed.

It is often those unplanned pickings, fresh from the garden, that end up being sensational on the plate. There is no need for additional flavourings when food is grown and eaten like this. I find it hard to explain because if you have never done it, you will just think it sounds a ridiculous claim.

To me there is a lot more to food than just a few seconds of taste.

• There is the experience of growing, picking and preparing it, that swills around in my head.
• To me the enjoyment of feeling its goodness equals or even exceeds the taste, while I am getting it ready to eat.
• Then there is the actual effect it has on my body and mind, sometimes lasting for hours….. all a bit hippy-sounding? I just love tuning my food and body. After all, this is what all other creatures and most other humans instinctively do but we western humans have to learn by listening to our inner workings and trying to understand what they are saying!

Bon appetit!