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Its my 45th birthday, which marks two eventful years since I started this blog, and I reflect on the progress we have made. We finally manage to get the poly-tunnel up, ready to bring on some early crops, although the nerves are beginning to set in as we approach the opening date of the farm.....and I worry if it will all pay off.
It was exactly two years ago to the day that I started this blog. I know this, as the first post was on my 43rd birthday, and today its my 45th. Back then, we were in the early stages of a completely new adventure, and were strapping ourselves in tightly for the ride. As I recall, we had been in Wales for just a couple of months, and had already navigated the highly stressful process of moving our children from the familiarity of a happy life in a happy home, and bedding them into a completely new school in a completely different place. We had just signed the deeds to the old stone smithy, but did not yet own the land at the rear, and the plan of transforming it from an overgrown meadow into a regenerative small farm had not even been hatched. We already owned a grade 2 listed renovation project in the local town, that was half way to becoming a holiday let but, realistically, a long way off the finishing line. In the background, the pandemic was slowly rearing its head, but the implications of this were far from apparent. We were very much finding our way, in very strange times.
Fast forward 24 bizarre, challenging and emotional months, and I find myself on the verge of opening a small commercial farm. The bumpy and sloping 4 acre field has been manicured slowly, but with gargantuan effort, and now looks like the dream it started out as. Along the way I have been joined by my nephew Charlie, who has become a partner in the venture, and the pace has picked up.
Not only has the farm changed and progressed, but the holiday let (Gwalia) has shifted from a chaotic building site with “potential”, to an established and successful business with over 20 bookings behind it.
The process of changing beds, relentlessly cleaning and managing enquiries has now become a normal part of our weekly routine. I am now accustomed to the highs of bookings, and the lows of cancellations. In terms of the family, things are more settled, and the kids have adjusted to their new “lives” and are happy and flourishing. The worry and stress of putting them through this transition still lingers, but no longer aches my heart in the debilitating way it once did. I don’t ask them any more if they miss home, as this has now become their home, and the place they will miss. Even the crazily wired sheep dog, Pepper, has chilled, and as I write this is calmly curled up at my feet. Gone are the days when she attacked the children as they passed her by, and she no longer worries the local sheep population or craps on the kitchen floor. She has even started sleeping. With determination, and patience, things do change and progress.
The farm has certainly progressed a level or two, and it's taken a fair share of determination and patience. Charlies' involvement as my right-hand man has been invaluable, and some of the bigger infrastructure jobs have now finally been ticked off the list. Since Christmas, the packing shed and poly-tunnel have now become permanent features, albeit involving some considerable endurance, and the farm track has been extended to circle the entire plot. The poly-tunnel erection process has been particularly onerous, and despite the manufacturers delusional claims it will go up in 3 days, turned out to be more like a mastermind challenge, with back to front instructions and poorly designed components. It didn't help that a lovely northerly wind seemed to pick up every time we ventured out to make any headway.
The effort is vital though, as the poly-tunnel is an essential component in terms of season extension, and will be fundamental in our goal to have ripe tomatoes in June. To this ambitious aim, we sowed a quick fruiting variety (Sungold) in February, which germinated over a heat mat, and has since been pricked out from the seed tray to grow on in pots. To ensure optimum exposure to sunlight, we have built a south facing cold frame next to the house, where the tender seedlings are carefully transferred every morning from the warmth of the lounge, to be returned at dusk to ensure a cosy night's sleep. All this pampering is to try and ensure we have some of the earliest locally grown produce, which I think is an important factor in attracting people's attention early in the season, and encouraging their custom. We have also sown a range of less tender crops, such as spring onions, peas, broccoli, garlic and carrots, and will be relying on fleece to protect them from the spring frosts. The next few weeks will involve a busy succession of sowings, to include the salads, herbs and flowers as we hope to start selling in June. This whole process has been a bit of a headache, as we get to grips with the individual requirements of each plant, work out a sowing plan to ensure regular harvests, and then log all this into some kind of coherent notes - and all this for around 30 varieties!
Although excited to be approaching production on the farm, I have also felt the pressure and stress as the money dries up, and the burden of making things work becomes increasingly acute. With the Smithy still in the process of renovation, we continue to sleep in the lounge, heat the entire house with one wood-burner, and park the car in a quagmire of mud. Needless to say this has taken its toll. However, as the spring days start to lengthen, the seedlings shoot up towards the sky, and the living space around us slowly becomes more functional and pristine, the mood is generally optimistic. And, as the farm starts to yield its first crops I know that the next few months will be frantic, but also defining. The big question is, will anyone buy them?
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