It’s summer. Glorious, rarely seen, actually warm summer. Day after day of sunlight. I personally know people who have been able to grow tomatoes in this weather. It truly is the end of times.
We’ve been letting the verges, the driveway and the yard run riot with weeds. They are choked with grasses, wildflowers,and wonderful wildlife. We’ve been taking a tally on the wildflower species on the farm, as a rough and ready reckoning on how well we are doing on sustainablility. So it turns out having the untidiest, most ramshackle, overgrown and willfully wild driveway in the entire of Connaught is, y’know, a good thing. Because ramshackle and untidy is where the wild things are.
In our fields and pasture we have genuine wildflower meadow, with all the species of insect that that supports. So far we have bluebells, primrose, wild garlic, three conered garlic, marsh marigold, wood anenomes, cranes bill, ragged robin, heath speedwell, pignut, cow parsley, angelica, marsh orchid, dog rose, thistle, bindweed, marsh bedstraw (I think), ox eye daisy, buddleia, elderflower, buttercup, daisy, ragwort, forget me not, foxglove, clover, stitchwort and several species I’ve yet to identify. As well as birds foot trefoil. Which is super exciting. It’s a wildflower that fixes nitrogen into the soil, and it has a compund that helps the animals break down the protein in their food, making grazing more efficient, and healthier (it helps avoid possibly terminal indigestion problems like bloat).
All of this on twelve acres. When I talk sustainability, wildlife is a key part of it. Sharing our farm with the wild world. Raising livestock on wildflower meadow. No herbicide. No insecticide. No pesticide. No ploughing up the wild flowers. No planting rye and clover.
I saw a cinnabar moth, a flash of black and red amongst the rushes. There are dragonflies rising from the pasture. This evening a young fallow deer bucked and leaped when I got close. The flowering hawthorn on the drive is buzzing with a column of insects feeding on it’s flowers. There are pine martens, foxes hiding in the rushes regarding my lambs. Badger tracks. There are buzzards and sparrowhawks and blue jays. Peacock butterflies and small blues and dingy skippers here.
Harvesting tree hay in the shade of a great sycamore, I feel content. I am in a wild place. It is where I farm. It is where I live. The land feels tended. Cared for. The flock seems healthy. And I know our lamb, or goat meat and our hogget all taste better becasue of the diversity they feed on. You are what you eat. This is as true for my lambs and goats as it is for me.
