And now we can all get some sleep

Bernard is no more.

The reinventors have been working up to this for some time and now its done and we're feeling a bit out of sorts.

The agreement has always been that we will not keep roosters.  It isn't fair on the neighbours and it's unpleasant for the hens.  (Poor Alice has lost a significant amount of feathers thanks to Bernard's attentions.)

So when the chicken-who-started-life-as-Marjorie declared himself vigourously as male,  his fate was sealed.  It was just a matter of when.

We consulted every nonna we could find and debated the merits of axe versus a quick grab-and-jerk to break his neck versus fashioning a killing funnel.  In the end our bucket arrangement didn't work and we had to improvise.

It was mercifully quick, although the cliches about headless chooks are disturbingly accurate.  Then the messy bit began.

We put him in a pot of boiling water for a minute, hosed him off and proceeded to get him ready for the pot.  It's not nice - you rip all the feathers off, and there are a lot, not just big ones that are easy to grab, but lots of little downy ones that once you pull them out, stick to the skin.  Then there's the butchering bit - taking out the crop (we managed to rupture it, yuck), chopping off the feet, removing the innards. 

But there is a recognisable chook sitting in our fridge.  It's not as plump as what you find wrapped in plastic in the meat department, but I know exactly what it ate (grain, veg and snails, slugs and assorted bugs from the garden) and what chemicals it ingested (none).

Now we just have to decide how we're going to eat him.

No crapitalism here

The reinventors hate the modern push to buy, buy, buy: replacing perfectly serviceable stuff with newer stuff just because it's newer.

There's almost nothing new in Marmalade Cottage - even our animals are rescued!

Rarely do we have a problem with our thrifted, rescued and second-hand stuff.  Except last night.

The dishwasher, an elderly, but prestigious brand, has given us three and a half years faithful service, moving house with us twice.  But it died.

Straight to Gumtree, it was!  With a free one waiting on a verge, that, apparently worked.  Except it didn't

Sigh.

But there was, of course, another one, a suburb away.  And off we trotted.

This one is quite new, immaculately clean, efficient and very quiet.  It was $100.

Seriously - why would anyone buy new?

It's all a bit confusing

This is Enid's first egg.  It fits into a teaspoon and is a little irregular in texture and colour, but it was neatly laid in the middle of the nesting box.

Enid has always been Enid, likewise Violet is still Violet.  But Gordon appears to be Geraldine and Marjorie is most definitely Bernard.

Shows what we know about chicken sexing!

Pretty

This is a pot of garlic chives.  They a fabulous hit of intensity to a coleslaw and look much more understated in flower than they taste!

The great survivors

These cavolo nero - black Tuscan cale - were sprouted at the reinventors' last rental property.  Then dug up and left in pots for several months.  They were the first vegies planted not long after we moved in.

They've now been through two summers and are heading for their third winter. 

The ravaged leaves at the back are the result of a bug and some attention from the chooks.  Each stalk is more than a metre tall, and look at the lush new foliage.  We can't bear to pull them out.

Not one of those, then.

Another vine from the chook pen muckings-out.  We thought it was a cucumber.

And neither of us particularly likes rockmelon.  Oh well.

Bounty

This vine grew out of chook pen muckings-out.  We've had one enormous pumpkin already that, after we gave chunks of it to three  neighbours, fed us for four meals. 
This is the ripest of its next five fruit.

And they're r-r-r-r-roasting!

A cheeky blend of columbian and guatamalan arabica beans, roasted on the creative reinventor's home-wrangled roaster, in our stable and sold only to the most discerning customers.

The monster

The reinventors bought a range of seeds from the Diggers Club, including Boston Marrow pumpkins.  Which don't seem to be available any more.

The  plants, two of them, took to the spring garden with great gusto.  The muckings-out of the chook pen most probably helped.  The bees took to the flowers and we got our first pumpkin a couple of weeks ago.  It started off looking like this:

A mere two weeks later, it's considerably bigger than a basketball:

The reinventors are a little worried that, by the time this pumpkin is ripe, it will be so big as to be inedible.  Thanks again to the chook pen muckings-out, we have another pumpkin vine, probably a jap, that has fruit.  We shall not go without.

Favourite things

The practical reinventor has finally gotten her sewing machine sprinkler.  It's a late 1950s Auto So that had its cords removed by someone with no respect. 

It came to Marmalade Cottage via an op shop, discovered under a shelf, covered in dust, five minutes to closing.  It was $5.  It was quite a sophisticated machine in its day, with a variety of decorative stitch cams. 

The foot went to another vintage machine, and the bakelite plugs have been put into a drawer of interesting bits and pieces, perhaps to have another life too.

It's the perfect combination of two of the practical reinventor's favourite things: sewing and gardening.

Pollination

Last year there was much pumpkin leaf action, a bit of flowering, but not a single fruit.  This year the bees have been busy.

We have boston marrow pumpkins, carefully raised from seed

And something that went through a chook and ended up on the vegie bed when the chook pen muckings-out were spread.

And there are these:

Despite Perth's record temperatures these last few days, the established plants are holding up well under their blanket of mulch.

At the front door

When the reinventors are at the back of the house, or in the back garden or listening to music, it's impossible to hear anyone at the front door.

There has been much discussion about some sort of device to alert the reinventors of the arrival of a guest.

This is where it needs to go.

Here's the creative reinventor hard at work.

When you come to visit, you can ring our bell!

Getting ready for Christmas

The practical reinventor has a new sewing table - it's one of those clever ones that has a gas lift and folds away to look like an innocuous corner cabinet.  She has the luxury of not having to fold it away, as she has a whole room dedicated to sewing.  She also has the luxury of the creative reinventor who finds her wonderful birthday presents and always indulges her sewing and craft projects. 

On the new table at the moment is

a selection of tree ornaments, and

a Santa hat for the practical reinventor's Executive Director, a Yamaji Man.  The Yamaji are the Native Title Owners (Aboriginal people) from the Mid-West region of Western Australia.  He has very graciously agreed/been bullied into having a division Christmas party and playing Santa for the compulsory Kris Kringle.

That garland along the bottom is supposed to be gum leaves and the astute reader will recognise the Aboriginal flag.  The practical reinventor had never seen sparkly felt before - it makes a very good, Christmassy gum leaf garland.

Chook update

Shirley is still being terribly pleased with herself and talks constantly to the chicks. 

She's taught them about real food, and they've embraced the varied diet that the Marmalade Cottage CWA enjoys.

Watermelon is a particular favourite.