Chook update

A first!  Florence and Shirley's first experience free ranging.

They picked it up very quickly.

Jam of 10 food metres

Rosella is bush tucker, also known as native hibiscus.  They're very occasionally available in markets, but mostly you have to grow your own.

Ours went in a bit late this year, but we still managed a small harvest.

However, most of the fruit is seed. Once you remove the inedible bit, this made up a whole 155g.

Which translated to

Not quite a jar of jam.  But it'll be spectacular!

We've left some fruit on the shrubs to self seed.  We hope to see lots more rosellas next year.

Our own coffee

The Creative Reinventor, it has to be said (and he wouldn't deny it) is a coffee nerd. 

He's worked in the coffee industry for years, owns two espresso machines, takes huge offence at over-roasted blends and don't even mention instant in his presence.

One thing he'd never done was roast his own beans.

But with a bread maker and a heat gun

he discovered he can roast quite a respectable batch.

Sadly we're in the wrong climate zone to grow our own coffee.  Pity, that'd be really cool.

Signature cake

The reinventors are usually not into exclusivity, but in this case, we may make an exception.

If you poach some oranges (preferably those grown by D and P) in sugar syrup, line a cake tin in foil and arrange the slices on the bottom.

Then make up a butter cake with lots of vanilla extract and a handful of coconut for texture.
Once it's baked, pour the poaching syrup over the top.  Flip it over.

And you have Marmalade Cottage Marmalade Cake.

Seasonal planting.

The winter vegie garden is just about planted.  Despite the delightful autumn weather Perth has put on, we're having thoughts of soups, heavy with potatoes and leek, and fragrant with thyme and garlic.

It's been so sunny, we had to water the garden today before we could start digging.  There is rain forecast for this week, which, frankly, will make a nice change from the relentless sunshine.

We planted some more garlic and two varieties of potato: sapphire and kipfler.  The sapphires are purple outside and in, they taste fabulous, but make very odd-looking mash.

The broad beans that went in a month ago haven't come up, either old seeds or not enough sun, so we put some more into a less protected spot.

Lovely friends D and P gave us some artichoke seedlings, which was an act of optimism, as the ones they donated last year didn't survive the summer.  But the garden is much more organised this year, and the seeds and seedlings are going into the ground much earlier, so they should be better established by the time the hot weather hits.

Meanwhile in the flower garden at the front of the house, the weeds run rampant.  The bulbs are starting to sprout and the roses are still blooming - must be all the sun.

Fruit

Aren't these magnificent?  They're bush tucker: rosella or native hibiscus.  Best known in a small square jar in sickly syrup to be added to cheap bubbly.

They're the seed pod, and they make a wonderfully tart jam, rather like cranberries.  We should have enough from our four plants for about two jars.

Chook update

On the left, we have Florence, on the right Shirley.  At least we hope that's who they are.

There's every possibility they're Horace and Arthur.
They're about six weeks old now, just starting to grow combs and rather smart adult feathers.  When they start laying eggs or upsetting the neighbours at an ungodly hour, we'll know whether they're male or female.  Our expert advice is that Florence might be a Plymouth Rock, Shirley is a mystery.

Puppy love

The neurotic kelpie, we discover after six months of getting to know her, loves fluffy toys.

We had no idea.

(sorry about the weird green eyes)

Subbing in

Coffee features heavily in Marmalade Cottage life.  So it was something of a tragedy when both of the espresso machines went on the blink.

The Creative Reinventor loaded them into the ute, muttering unsavoury things under his breath.  Lack of caffeine will do that to a boy.

Because he knows people, he got us a loaner. 

Pretty, isn't it?

In case you're wondering our machines are a Gaggia Classic and an ECM Botticelli, this one's a Nuova Simonelli Musica.

Green

The rains have started which means two things.

The bulbs we planted (80 and counting) start to sprout - this one's a ranunculus.

And so do the weeds.  Oxalis among other things we can't name.  The adage goes: one year's seeding equals seven years' weeding.  At this rate, we're looking at 70 years weeding!

And then there were two

This morning, the practical reinventor took the scraps from last night's dinner out to the chooks.

And found the sick little chick cold and stiff in a corner.

We do, very much, hope the last two chicks survive.

Mortality

Goodness - if you ever decide to hatch chicks, be prepared for some heartbreaking sights.

The reinventors were delighted when all six eggs hatched - four black chicks, one yellow and one grey with feathery feet.  They chirped and cheeped and followed Nancy about.  The reinventors bought starter crumble (the chick equivalent of baby food) and carefully placed bits of brick in shallow water bowls to the chicks wouldn't drown.

Then we found a lifeless twisted body out of the chook run.  It had squeezed out of the netting, and something larger had killed it.

So we reinforced the already reinforced the chook run.  Added extra wire netting, plugged up holes, added bricks where there was evidence of digging and scratching.

And then we caught the dog chewing up another chick. And then there was another mangled body.  There were tears.

There was more reinforcing.

Now we have one chick that seems to be blind.  Nancy is ignoring it, and it cheeps plaintively and falls over.  It's survived two days and a night with a bit of help, so it might keep going.

We're never hatching chicks again.  It's too brutal.

Avian politics

Nancy sits on her eggs, looking more self-important and confident.  We assume she gets up to eat and drink and so on, but every time we visit the Marmalade Cottage CWA Hall, she's firmly ensconced.

The other chooks are laying fewer eggs, but we still get one or two a day.

Interestingly, there's been a reshuffle.

In case you ever doubted it, a chook pecking order is a literal thing.

There is a clear boss chook - that's Alice.  She's the biggest, glossiest and bossiest.

Her deputy is Marion - a bit smaller, a bit less glossy, but only marginally less bossy.

Nancy was at the bottom of the order.  The most obvious demonstration of this was the perch on which the girls roosted to sleep at night.  Alice and Marion took the higher perch, Nancy roosted by herself on the lower one.  It's not very subtle

Then we introduced the two rescued battery hens, Joan and Joyce.  For a week or so there was confusion, then Joan emerged as a real contender for deputy boss chook, and we wondered whether Nancy would assert herself a bit more, leaving Joyce at the bottom of the order.

Not to be.  The two new girls roosted on the higher perch and Nancy stayed on her lower one.

But now Nancy sits day and night on her eggs, there's been another reorganisation.  Joyce has been relegated to the lower perch.

It's not like there's any great disadvantage to the lower perch, it's just very symbolic. 

It's a bit sad.

Poor dear, she's feeling hormonal

Being city children, neither inventor recognised that Nancy

had gone broody. 

According to Jackie French, this overwhelming maternal urge is largely bred out of modern hens.  She's fluffed all her feathers out, gone a bit grumpy, and has a weird deep cluck.

As we have no roosters, letting her sit on any of our chooks' eggs was going to be an exercise in frustration.  Luckily lovely friends D and P (who gave us Nancy in the first place, along with Alice and Marion) have roosters and fertile eggs and sympathy.

She's sitting on six fertile eggs, so, if all goes well, we'll have six little chicks in a couple of weeks.

As soon as Nancy gave in to her hormones, the other hens pretty much stopped laying - just the odd one and usually on top of Nancy, who then sat on it, along with her others.

We sacrificed a couple of infertile eggs and put them in other nesting boxes.  Chooks, being fairly simple creatures, will only lay where others have laid.  Apparently they're quite taken in by wooden or plastic eggs too. 

The other girls seem to be laying again, although we do have to check under Nancy every day.

And here are the stupid pigeons who get into the hen house then can't work out how to get out.

Fatalities

Despite regular and frequent applications of water, seasol and powerfeed and lots of mulch, some plants have, just this week, turned up their toes.

It's like they withstood so much, and this last heatwave - a record - was too much.

We've lost chamomile, chives, strawberries, a blueberry, both the male and female kiwifruit vines and two different varieties of thyme. 

Poor little plants.

On the other hand, the moonflowers threaten to take over the front garden, the mulberry is looking lush and shady and the zucchinis are wonderful.  Next year we will have passionfruit.