Clearing Up - Norton Conyers, 15th March 2018

Another damp day; Spring wasn’t here yet. But the gardener is well prepared - waterproofs and boots were adorned today. We looked a colourful bunch as we left the Orangery this morning and headed to the Dumper shed. And to be honest it was a bit of a dump! It had been left relatively unused at the end of last season, so there was reason for the mess. There's no problem things being left a little untidy, as there are always keener priorities to attend to. So, bearing in mind the poor weather, this was the perfect day for such a job. 

It was a job that required thought as to where to start. There was much to tackle, but with a team of five, progress was soon seen. Giles and I moved wood and logs; the ladies started moving tree protectors to an adjoining building; Plum found a dead pigeon.

There were many tree protectors - maybe a hundred. As I joined the efforts to move them, I uncovered a beautiful Peacock butterfly in hibernation. Its colours were a reminder that nature only sleeps - it does not disappear.

The Dumper shed was full of old unused gardening bits and pieces. Giles is a very resourceful man; he won't throw anything away that might come in useful. However, he's not a hoarder either - everything he does is carefully considered and planned. For example, underneath is a barrel - formerly containing Mango Slices (best before 2000!) from Mumbai in India. It's something that's of value to the gardener - however often it might come into use.

As I cleared some wooden poles from a corner and relocated them, I discovered perhaps fifty ladybirds huddling together - like the butterfly, they had found the perfect, protected spot to spend the winter months. And we had found the perfect spot to spend a rainy day - the work was fulfilling and everyone was in a jovial mood; as we'd entered the Dumper Shed, Giles asked me to switch the light on. There wasn't a light. I'm getting used to this gentle ribbing.

As the ladies finished their clearing work, I stayed and swept the straw covered floor. After Plum found the pigeon, I wondered what else might be discovered amongst this mass of dried grass. I was reminded of an old episode of Midsomer Murders where the victim is stabbed by a pitchfork and covered up in the straw. Thankfully there would be no such discoveries today..

 Following our break, we headed to the stables. Having burned the majority of the rubbish the previous week, the cleanup job now began in earnest. Sweeping the walls and windows of cobwebs; old plaster and paint dust from shelves and window bottoms; the floor from oily dirt. This was a considerable undertaking. The stables had been left in a time-warp - used only as a joiners yard in recent days. It had been built in the 1700s and must have fallen out of use as a stables some 70 or 80 years previously.

I know this because there were old packets on the floor - an old decaying Osram bulb jacket; metal springs; an old car headlamp cover; small wooden signs; a woodwormed groomer's brush. The bench was still solid enough to stand on to do my work, but had seen considerable wear and tear over the years. Built to last. Having lifted it, I uncovered a small plank of wood. It was attached to the stone floor with tar. I lifted it - the perfect shiny black uncovered the still fresh scent of pitch.

Our indoor clearing work was over. We retired to lunch.

As we returned, Giles began cutting back the trees which hung over the road leading up to the stables. Luminous lichen layered long limbs. We dragged the branches over the front of the house; I felt the strain, as an Ox would bearing its Yoke.

Giles, Alyson and I then left the borders of the walls and began cutting back the branches overhanging the Wath road. The Norton Conyers estate covers an area of 1500 acres - another substantial job!

Giles used his extended saw on the branches; Alyson and I hauled the wood over the wall for Beth and Bex to drag to habitat piles. The trees were packed together to begin with; they soon spread out, and there was too much work for three people.

Giles handed me a luminous green jacket, and asked me to look out for traffic; he walked round the other side of the wall and began cutting back from the house side. Lorries and vans seldom made an appearance, but safety was paramount for all concerned.

We completed this work, and next it was back to clear up. However, I got a little sidetracked. The litter by the side of the road was shocking. It upset me that people would dispose of things in this manner. I later spoke to Lady Graham - she told me about how she had challenged a lady who had dropped a takeaway box on the London Underground "I think you've dropped something" she said. The reply verged on abuse - almost physical "I'm providing someone with a job!!". 

I picked up the vast quantities of litter: crisp packets; pair of shoes; glass bottles; a fire extinguisher(!). Lady Graham said that when Sir James and she passed by on their bicycles, they would pick up rubbish - they had only done this the other day. I am coming to realise that the Grahams and I share similar values.

It was a satisfying job I suppose, but one I hoped that I wouldn't have to repeat any time soon!

A satisfying day of clearing had ended - the estate had had a 'Spring Clean' and was sprucing up for its Easter visitors.

Sheep Wrestling at Norton Conyers! 12th March 2018

Today was wet. The rain fell relentlessly, unceasingly. And it was cold too. For the first time I felt a pang of regret at choosing a career in the outdoors.

I let out a sigh as I zipped up my jacket, lifted  my hood and ventured out to face up to this miserable day.

I drove along the Wath road - less of a road, more of a lake patched with tarmac - and the water sprayed up above my windscreen.

The snowdrops to the West side of the house lay jewelled with shimmering droplets and the daffodils were beginning to unfurl their sunshine - much needed on a day like today.

As we dropped off our belongings, the mood was that of dread. We looked to Giles - where would we be working today?!

Giles must have seen the desperation and pleading in our eyes, and taken pity on us; we were to give the garden's benches their annual linseed oil treatment in the Bothy. We were all delighted at this news - the mere prospect of working indoors was quite exciting; it didn't really matter what we would be doing!

As I opened the door to the bothy for the first time, a dead Woodland Jumping Mouse (Napaeozapus insignis) was revealed in the entrance on the gravelled floor. Plum hadn't found it - yet. It could have been sleeping - such was its almost perfect, clean fur. Bex picked the poor dead creature up and buried it.

A roll of steel wool was gathered, along with a bottle of linseed oil and a few rags. The benches were positioned in the dull bothy, and we split into pairs. Balls of rough, crunchy steel wool were rolled and scraped along the wooden surfaces, removing debris and damp grime. 

Next, the two groups battled for one bottle of Linseed oil - its sweet and fragrant aroma quickly filling the bothy. Oil was rubbed into every crevice, before the bench was turned over and the process repeated. Leather wasn't a good choice of glove for this task; they quickly absorb oil, so the yellow material quickly turned black.

And, so the benches would be fit for another year in the British weather.

I headed towards the apple store next to treat the garden tools. A knife was needed to scrape of layers of dried mud and soil, peeling back the layers of different days in gardens.

The oil was applied, and also to the metal ends. They looked sharp, new and shiny - pieces of equipment to be proud of.

However, before my work was done, Alan arrived, and set to work dismantling the greenhouse outside the apple store. I would be needed to help him with this process.  A ratchet was used - quickly

whipping out nuts and bolts and the frame was soon dismantled - going into storage for the time being, with potential for relocation in the future.

We returned to the Orangery for our tea break, which was welcome in this cold, saturated atmosphere. I warmed my hands on my cup and let my jacket drip-dry on the back of a metal frame. Following a rest and a chat, Giles lead the way into the adjoining peach house. The peaches were beginning to blossom, and a robin sat on the branches, before darting away. 

In the absence of the helpful bees in the cold weather, we would soon need to pollinate the peaches ourselves.

The gooseberry bushes still needed pruning. We had started the previous week, and it was a job none of us particularly looked forward to. The thorns are sharp, hard and abundant - spiking straight through gardening gloves and into tender skin. The job was huge - it took three of us two and a half hours to complete, wheeling barrow loads through to the woods.

Gooseberry Bushes

After lunchtime, Alyson was recruited by Giles to start a fire in the old tennis courts outside the garden walls. They were built in the 1950s, but have seen decline over the last 30 to 40 years. It is now a useful area, which I believe was cleared at the beginning of this year. A well-contained space, it was perfect for a fire.

The fuel, and reason for the fire? Junk wood from the stables. Giles was in 'clearout mode.' It's fantastic to see a space being transformed, but also to bear witness to snapshots of peoples' lives; objects were left in the stables by individuals - most of whom would now certainly be dead. Bex drove the tractor - full of wood and earthy detritus, along the edge of the walled gardens. I followed with an old, broken ladder on my shoulder.

The fire burned - with pallets, table legs, broken boxes, ladders, earth - and Beth and I soon returned to the courtyard - I hitched a ride on the back!

After ridding the stables of the main debris, we looked around to see what else we could find. Old turpentine and linseed oil bottles; fire buckets; a beautiful page from a 'His Master's Voice' calendar from Harrogate; chains; small tools and bits of metal - all would have had their place and use in days gone by. Recovered items from the stables were later arranged in the bothy. 

Items recovered from the stables

I took a barrow of junk metal to the yard, and on my return popped in to see Walter's horse. She is a smashing, noble creature. Tame and faithful. We rubbed our heads together and I stroked her warm velvet nose. 

Shortly after this, Giles received a call from the house; Sir James had spotted a sheep in the grounds! We ventured towards the front of the house - it stood, proud of itself in the distance. It kept this distance as we advanced; I soon realised that pace was needed. I marched forwards - beyond the house and through the woods, gathering speed as I went. The sheep disappeared. I ran in its direction, hoping that I would lead it towards a break in the fence. Sadly this was not to be the case. 

I caught up with the sheep on the edge of the estate. It was skittish and lively - they are fast creatures! Thankfully I was faster, and had more stamina. I wouldn't catch it - I would exhaust it. After cornering the creature two or three times (it scarpered on all occasions), it soon began to tire (and so did I). As we darted from side to side, the creature finally realised it could not escape; it fell to its knees, in white flag surrender. I held it down and waited for backup. The sheep was huge - a heavy mass of matted cloud.

Giles, Beth and Bex arrived, and two of us lifted the sheep into our arms, before heaving it to the fence. It took three of us to lift the massive creature over the barbed wire and back into its pasture. The sheep ran off in pure joy and relief, bleating merrily to its grateful family.

We all wondered how it had managed to get into the grounds at all!!

We made our way back to the gardens - myself quite exhausted from the exertion. Giles pointed out the huge ice store on the edge of the estate. As I approached it, I was given no sense as to its sheer depth - a huge bricked wall inserted into the earth - an echo of unrefrigerated times.

Giles pointed out a 200 year old Sycamore tree on our way back, explaining- "It may still live for another 30, 40 years" he said. He also showed us a badger village, which lay along this route - multitudes of setts raised above the earth.

Sycamore tree

A Pet Graveyard lay nearer the house , with 19th Century pets being given particular prevalence. "Tiger, Died 15th June 1896, Aged 4 Years" "Nigel J.S. Graham" was the inscription.

And so, as another day drew to a close, I could again be thankful for the sheer variety of the work that I was undertaking.  The girls went home; I stayed with Giles and pressure washed the pond. The moss flew into the air, and the dirt removed itself from the sides of the pond begrudgingly. It cleaned up nicely - even if it does need resealing later this year!

I returned to my car wet, muddy and hungry, but with a deep sense of satisfaction in my heart.

This was another varied day, but I never thought I'd be a professional sheep wrestler!!