There's no going back

Now we've done it.  And really done it.  There's no going back. 

There was a time when I'd get up in the morning, stumble around the kitchen making coffee and then, clutching my cup in two hands, artificially introduce myself to the day while staring out the kitchen window at this:

All in all, not a bad way to wake up.  But then, this arrived:

And look what it did to a perfectly good chicken coop!

There aren't going to be anymore chickens in this coop.

Okay, so it wasn't actually a perfectly good chicken coop.  Admittedly it was in need of repair, to the point that even some rats who had previously taken up residence in it had decided to move on. Perhaps it was an issue with the room service and lack of regular meals. Anyway, we decided that the chicken coop had to go.  And the co-dependent green house.  It was definitely time for the green house and the grapevines to establish some independence from each other. Learn to stand on their own two feet (or collapse, as the case may be). And then, of course, the cyanide-leeching pressure treated posts for the fencing around our future organic garden had to go. And then some unfortunately located trees.

End result? A large open expanse of soil, turned over and awaiting tilling.  As I said, there's no going back now.

Enter the visual world...

Finally, some visuals.  A bit out of date, but here they are...

Waiting in the line up at the BC Ferries terminal in Tsawwassen, British Columbia for the ferry that will take us to Vancouver Island to begin this great adventure.

The happy campers arriving at their new house.  (Note the smiles. Clearly, issues with movers and faulty appliances have yet to come.)

Mike investigating the tangled wilds of the back of the property. 

On the road to self-sufficiency (or is it the equivalent of climbing K2 without oxygen?) Sorry about the orientation of the photo.  Any hints out there on how to flip this around?

Nothing like some good, honest manual labour. Start 'em young, I say.

That's it for now.  A little teaser on the place where we have landed.

Ladies Who Lunch

The women of East Sooke (which borders on Metchosin) give new meaning to the term "ladies who lunch."

I'm not sure where else in the world a group of 10 or 12 women would gather around a table laid with fern fronds and fresh flowers, a backdrop of the East Sooke basin rolling out beyond the floor to ceiling windows, and talk septic systems and drainage. 

Seriously. 

These are renaissance women. They are equally comfortable with dirt under their nails or polish on top of them. They can "talk muck" with the best of them, or politics with the worst of them. They are informed, informing, involved, opinionated, smart. And they are welcoming, so much so that I had the great honour of sharing a lunch with them and feeling right at home. 

I could learn much from this group. Conversation topics ranged from international emigration to septic systems to building permit acquisition to public forums on land usage to local history.  All in a two hour span. Should these women become fired up about an issue and decide to bring their collective force to bear, I would fear for their opponent. I'm sure that in the most eloquent of speech, they would make a lovely mince tart of the offending party, served up with a lightly spiced whipped cream. They break all stereotypes held by city folk of people who live "in the country." And if I'm lucky, I'll receive an invitation to the next gathering of "ladies who lunch."

What happened to August????

Did anyone see where August went? I seem to have misplaced it. Perhaps it got trapped out back in the thorny grasp of the blackberry bushes. I'll have to look for it when I'm next out there picking berries and rescue it with the loppers. But if I can't locate August, I'll move on. September is a beautiful month and I'm looking forward to getting outside and getting my hands dirty in the garden. And there are any number of outdoor projects with which to get my hands dirty, not the least of which is pruning back lots of plant material that has been left to its own devices for too long.

Some pruning has already gotten underway, thanks to the English rellies who have come to visit. It seems that change is as good as anything for a vacation. We've had willing volunteers to hack away at overgrown butterfly bushes and wieglea and underproductive fruit trees. And in fact, the pruning has revealed quite an array of tasty plant life already growing here. We've discovered:

• yellow plums
• blackberries
• purple plums
• transparent apples
• a few varieties of red apples
• hazelnuts
• blackberries
• walnuts
• Japanese plums (which look like big cherries)
• grapes
• fig
• rosemary
• blackberries
• oregano
• mint
• rhubarb
• blackberries

Not a bad selection to begin with.  Sure, most of it needs some attention, but we've been enjoying yellow plums and transparent apples and will soon to be harvesting a good crop of purple plums as well as lots of red apples. 

Those of you paying attention, though, will notice that blackberries appeared a few times on the list of harvestable plant life. That should give you an indication of the quantity of blackberries that we have on our property.  They're quite yummy and make a great jam (yes, I made blackberry jam!) but they are also capable of lifting the roof off of a shed. And they have totally surrounded our most productive apple tree. My plan? To pick the berries from around the apple tree and as I pick, to take loppers to canes and chop away. I figure that by the time the apples are ready for picking I'll have slain enough of the blackberries to have a safe passage to the apple tree.

And the blackberry canes that were attacking the storage sheds? They've already been acquainted with the loppers, though I understand they are tenacious beasts and, rather like aging rock stars, inclined to make a comeback just when you think they've finally gone away.

Now, I must sign off. I must save my strength for tomorrow's battle. I can hear the blackberry bushes rustling away outside. They must be strategizing their surprise attack, deciding which arching cane with particularly long thorns will wrap itself around my arm and which one will suddenly reach over my head and attach itself to the back of my sweater leaving me no chance of defense. But I'm on to them now. I've seen what happened to August. I'll lead the charge with my loppers and we'll see who comes out victorious.