Admittedly, I had been waiting for this moment for some time. But the reality was a little daunting. The 1960s dumper truck would be under my command. The machine is battered, but still sturdy and reliable after decades of service. Giles started the machine, and I drove it towards the woods.
It took a little while to get used to this old engine - the temperamental gearstick, the knack to starting the machine, getting to grips with the (sometimes erratic!) handling - but the feeling when driving it was of liberation and real excitement; this was the dream of my 5 year old self!
Past the house, the pet graveyard and through the meandering woodland, I stopped the machine at the bottom of the slope next to the Ice House.
The Ash tree which had grown atop the Ice House had been felled the previous week. We cleared the leafy debris - building habitat piles, and Giles used his chainsaw to break up the trunk and larger branches. Plum watched on - sitting proudly on the tree stump.
Huge, heavy logs were rolled down the hill and loaded into the dumper truck. I would drive four loads to the wood store on this day, with more to be transferred at a later date. But the Ice House was now ready for restoration.
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| The newly, lovingly-restored Ice House |
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The plum trees needed their annual maintenance. After some pruning, we looked for the right growth to train upwards and outwards - tying the fresh growth against the wall with tar twine. The trees gave a good crop this year, despite the neighbouring apple trees which tower above them. This process will promote healthy growth next year.
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The remarkable weather this year provided ideal growing conditions for the grapes outside the Orangery - Gargarin Blue. The fruits were harvested in their frosted night-blue bunches, and processed; Giles had brought juicing equipment. The grapes were pulped and then pressed, and a small batch of rich, fragrant juice was made.
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Juicing continued the following week - albeit with a different kind of fruit! Plum and Shandy watched on as different varieties of fallen apples were collected from around the garden. Much of the morning was spent collecting the fruits, and eight or nine full crates were ready for pressing.
The apples were washed, quartered and processed. Two and a half barrels of juice were filled and ready for pasteurisation.
And over the following days, more apples would be collected and stored in the Orangery for future juicing; the smell was intoxicating.
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The paeony beds were now clear of their dead summer growth, and we had forked them over in their entirety the previous week. Compost was even distributed over this patch; a process that is to be repeated every four to five years.
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Whereas juicing apples were windfalls, ladders were needed to fetch apples suitable for storage. Ladders were climbed, and the best apples were picked and passed to a colleague on the ground. The apple store was prepared and the apples were carefully placed - small gaps between - in their varieties. And pumpkins - which had been grown on the compost heaps, and 'cured' in the sun - filled the shelves above.
Autumn really is here.
