The axeman cometh!

The piles of chainsawed wood litter the ground at Rock HQ awaiting a visit from the axeman. So for an hour or so most evenings I vent my frustration on the wooden blocks with mighty blows from my chopper. This is a very satisfying if blister inducing process. Large wooden blocks are reduced to nice sized logs.
A friend at work asked if I had a log splitter, yes, a huge axe. No what you need is a splitter, looks like a cross between an axe and a sledgehammer, its much easier to use, its shape merrily splitting logs in one blow whereas your axe, that's more suited to cutting and not so useful for splitting large blocks into tiny pieces.
A visit to countrywide and I am now the proud owner of a shiny ultra sharp very heavy log splitter.
Back at the ranch I selected my first victim, a block that had taken several hits from the axe already and had shown no inclination to split.
I swung the splitter in a huge overhead arc and brought it crashing down on the wooden target.
It split on impact.
Right down the centre of the hickory wood handle.
I am taking it back tomorrow for a refund.

With a little help from our friends

Work at Rock HQ has really gathered momentum, helped along as ever by friends and a judicious use of power tools. After feeling so downhearted at the carryings on of the human race last week faith has been restored by friends rallying around and helping out as much as they can. Steve the electrician, Mr 20% and the Stable Sprites Clan all helped put things in perspective and more importantly contributed to the smooth running of this smallholding.

A surprise visit from our friends the microholders meant that A) we established that not all people are self obsessed B) he is a better fencer than I as he, and she, helped erect two sides of foxproof fencing for the new chicken pen and C) they sold me the second best piece of beef I have ever eaten. Nothing can ever surpass the Dexter beef we had a while ago, but this Herefordshire grass fed beef was sublime.

So life on the rock face goes on, three massive projects on the go, nights drawing in and working full time means sometimes the progress is slower than hoped but we do have some light at the end of the tunnel.

What is really going to help is the purchase of two new power tools from ebay, a chainsaw and a petrol hedge trimmer. In my head I have already felled forests and cleared the hill of the dreaded gorse bushes.

Another piece of news which is really bitter sweet is that Spot, aka Rocky may be coming back to be reunited with his parents Rocky and Reba. More on that one on the Dolyhir site linked in the margin.

A bit late

Not quite sure whats going on with our fruit trees this year, we had no apples from the eight trees, we had lots of plums and damsons from those trees but none from the apples. Now the bramley apple tree is starting to blossom which is, even though I know nothing of apple horticulture, a bit late.

Stihl silent

Mr 20% came over today to help with the chainsawing in return for a bacon sarnie. He has a nice Stihl saw like the one I have borrowed, so twice the saws, twice the wood cut, twice the noise. Well nearly, there was a lot of noise emanating from Mr 20%'s end of the tree, none of it mechanical. As he pulled at the starting cord his Stihl refused to start, the noise was a succession of oaths and graphic descriptions of what he would do his his reluctant saw should it continue to be quiet.

My saw made short work of the branches in the lane and Mr 20%, now suffering from a sore throat from shouting helped clear the foliage. We had a bacon sarnie and launched a surprise attack on the Stihl silent saw. We changed plugs, mine Stihl started, not the sparkplug then. Mr 20% issued a final threat and pulled the cord. Then silence was almost painful, particularly for Mr20% who had run out of strepsils.

I picked up the saw. It was the same as mine. I pulled the cord, the same as mine. It started first time. Same as mine.

We got on with the sawing.

Steve the electrician turned up and very kindly changed the dodgy transformer so our dining room lights now work all the time instead of when they feel like it. More bacon sarnies and battenburg cake before more sawing.

Our pigs are getting a nice plump size, I have taken to putting their food in the roots of a tree to keep them occupied. They seem to like this, although Gwen wanted the camera too!

Beat the clock!

Weekends here and its off to a good start with moving 100 bales of hay, again, before it rained. All the while I was lugging the bales I could see the rain advancing down the valley, by the time the last bale was stored the downpour began. It had to be moved as where it was was holding up the building programme and it would get wet. Now most farmers operate on the two move principle, hay is moved twice, taken into the field to the barn for storage and then back out for feeding. As ever at Rock HQ we are different, or mental, you choose. Our hay has, so far, moved 5 times. Collected from the field and stored in the stable, from the stable to the trailer, from the trailer to the shell of the new build and from the new build to the stable. By the time its taken up to the field it will be sixth time lucky. However as the hay is now in Apollos stable it might have to be moved again if he needs it back.

Still its done and the new build is now clear to carry on with, the hay is in a weatherproof building so wont rot, the chickens are now in the side of the stable the Berners use but by Sunday they will be in a new pen in the garden. Tomorrow its another chainsaw frenzy with myself and Mr 20% attacking the remains on the trees and Steve the electrician is spending his hard earned freetime here fitting a new transformer. The things people do for a bacon sarnie! All in all its another action packed weekend!

A different view

A strange day spent going over the past 72 hours gave a different point of view to whats happened. It was a sign. There is a saying "When the wind of change blows most people build walls to hide behind. Some chose to build windmills"

Construction has started.

Faith no more

I was asked a few weeks ago I was asked why I kept so many animals. I suppose one reason is that they are reliable, and despite some of the tales on these pages, bear no malice, and they would make nice people, who wouldn't let you down. Some of my beliefs in human kind have been confirmed today, that for the majority self interest overrides doing the right thing. Some of us have integrity and will always try to do whats right. Others do whats easy, or convenient, or worse perhaps, they do nothing, they complain, and then watch the opportunity to do the right thing go sailing by.

Bitter? No, to use borrow a much banded around statement, don't get bitter, get better. I am. We are. Signs and portents, I a firm believer in them and maybe this week has been a sign.

Good news today though is we have a Dexter Cow called Henrietta (the potential for jokes here is massive) and she will be with us in February 2010, by which time she will be ready to go to the bull. This means a calf by Christmas and self sufficiency in milk by 2011. She will hopefully be easier to milk than the goats who refused to be subdued and eventually won the battle of wills over the white stuff. All we have to do is work out where to keep her, Ben's room is spare at the moment, Beth's old room has just been decorated so that's a no no. More importantly what are we going to do with the 60 litres of pooh she will produce a week. Pip the collie will no doubt eat a lot, the beagles will certainly wear a good proportion as an alternative to the much sought after fox pooh, but we will be left with a considerable cow pat every week.

One problem to be addressed straight away is where do we get a cow bell from. We need one as, wait for it, ahem, we need one as her horns don't work! What did you expect? If you want good material wait and buy the book!

One out, all out!

The pigs latest tunnel must have been completed late afternoon and all four were on the lane when we drove back to Rock HQ. This tunnel is through the dry stone wall at the end on the hen house, through the hen house, under the door, into a small pen and out on to the lane.

They might be clever at escaping but they fell for the follow the bucket of feed back to the slammer routine again!