The End of an Era

No doubt many wwoofers remember my mother, happily digging and weeding in the vegetable garden into her 93rd year.  She loved working in the sun, and sitting in the sun.  Between 2005 and 2009, when all my time and energy went into being sole 24-hour carer for my husband, she alone kept the veg garden alive; it's only thanks to her efforts that I have somewhere moderately clear to grow food today.  She was 85-89 during that time.

Over the last summer her health declined and she died in October of heart failure.  She was 93 and a half - she was always proud of reaching the half-way point to the next milestone.

Sustainability shouldn't end there.  The family wanted, as she would have wanted, the most green and natural burial possible.  With the support of a Natural Burial Ground near Monmouth, we buried her shrouded in her beloved cellular blankets (pure wool) with no coffin, straight into the grave in a dedicated and very beautiful field.

  She is lying in her pink blankets, by the grave.












And is being lowered into the ground by her son-in-law, grandsons, and eldest nephew.

And is settled gently into the comfort of her last resting place.









We'd all recommend this as a moving and very personal way to say goodbye.

Now back to work on the farm and garden and orchard  . . . . .  I may have laid hands on a pair of horses at last.  They are so tiny that I could almost pick the smallest one up in my arms.

A tough time . . . . comes to all hosts

 A better summer than last year, but the ill health that even wwoof hosts can't always avoid has slowed things up far too much.  As ever, wwoofers have been wonderful; reliable and hard-working and cheering.  Thank you all!

There have been other set-backs.  Our excellent local abattoir has ceased killing anything but cattle, so I have, at present, nowhere reliable to take my lambs from which I can be sure I will get my own back.  That's worrying.

Lack of energy has led to severe paperwork back-logs.  It's difficult to set to with a bit of paper at the best of times.

But the new hens have been very supportive; they chatter underfoot in the kitchen, and when no scraps are forthcoming, they settle down under the kitchen table and doze off until life gets more interesting again.

Four horses from the local rescue centre have been recuperating on my super grass.  I am angling to get my draught-horse from there; need to wait till a suitable one turns up; maybe little Storm and Cane (Kane?) on the left here.  They're small enough to be manageable by a complete novice like me!








And I now have super new compost bins (wwoofer-built), the original ones having fallen to bits.  Here's the late-summer's harvest of fertility.  There are two more bins to come, for the autumn and early spring collections.  My light steep soil needs constant boosting so I'm confident that this time, next year really will be better.