The Crofter is home again. He got back having only been gone for five weeks. As he checked the orchard and polytunnel I was able to confirm: I had not needed the knacker man, no plants had died in his absence (to my knowledge), we had had no hospital admittance, no vet call outs and no calves. Not bad going, if I do say so myself.
Ok, I had had to get assistance with the plumbing, a pig had gone on the run, I had brushcut a field, we got the full paramedic experience, and oh, I had had a cow sprint at me while putting up some fencing. But you know, other than the usual maintaince of things that needed done with the dry weather (paint potting shed, mow lawns, treat decking, and laundry all the curtains), the main issue had been the polytunnel, or more so, the plants in the tunnel. It became the new baby. Not as in something to fill an empty void and dote over like some treat their dogs. But something that needed attention every couple of hours. Sun appears, 45 degrees, open doors. Windy, 14 degrees, shut the door. Too dry, needs watered. Frequently. Weeds appear, time to hoe. Seedlings need repotting. Time to plant new seeds.
But the worst to control was the temperature. Not just in the tunnel, but under the velux windows in the house too. With the sudden balmy weather (think shorts and a G&T to non farming folk), the plants really suffered extreme temperature differences. The seeds in the house shot at a growth rate not expected. Thankfully there has been a drop in helicopters flying over, otherwise someone would have glanced in and misunderstood what we had going on upstairs. The tomatoes and corn all needed planted out sooner than expected. Except, the nights were baltic. So much so that quite a few in the tunnel were needing a winter duvet and tucked up in bed as part of their routine.
Never fear, the weather pressure has changed. Now that he’s home, there have been less temperature differences. Or so it seems. The doors aren’t needing opened and shut as often, the nights not as cold. Typical. But hey, at least Hilda waited till he got home to have her calf…
Birchwood Croft, Inverness-shire 