MyMan tells a lot of stories about growing up on a farm. He has no doubt that if his family had stayed on the land he would have been the one to take on the property, and buying EastWinds now is probably his way of reclaiming his roots.
One of my favourite stories is about him raising his own pigs so he could buy a motorbike and then sulking to his father that the bike he wanted had already been sold - only to find it on the back of the farm ute when he was sent out to do the morning chores.
When I collected together the pile of random mixed pea and lettuce seeds that had escaped their envelopes to pool at the bottom of my seed file, he got very excited at the idea of planting out those ‘random peas’.
Apparently his brother (now a doctor of history) had an entrepreneurial streak as well and, after finding an ice-cream bucket of peas in the shed that had been earmarked as green manure for the farm decided he’d like his own pea farm. A giant square of sod was cut up in the middle of the house yard and hundreds of peas soon became a wild bramble of ‘Sleeping Beauty’ proportions.
I must admit some of my favourite memories of the Flinders farm were of TheBoy as a toddler, sitting beneath my snow pea frame plucking the pods and eating them warm from the vine, his face in shade but his little feet poking out into the sunlight.
In memory of both those special moments, the ‘random peas’ have now been planted out into egg cartons for relocation to the block. Looking through the packets, we have a possible lucky dip of: dwarf & climbing sugar snaps & snow peas, purple-podded dutch, golden-podded and greenfeast.
In my (limited) experience the purple and golden need a little more loving than the others but it’ll be a real rainbow feast if I get a whole heap of young ones to eat in the pods!
MyMan tells a lot of stories about growing up on a farm. He has no doubt that if his family had stayed on the land he would have been the one to take on the property, and buying EastWinds now is probably his way of reclaiming his roots.
One of my favourite stories is about him raising his own pigs so he could buy a motorbike and then sulking to his father that the bike he wanted had already been sold - only to find it on the back of the farm ute when he was sent out to do the morning chores.
When I collected together the pile of random mixed pea and lettuce seeds that had escaped their envelopes to pool at the bottom of my seed file, he got very excited at the idea of planting out those ‘random peas’.
Apparently his brother (now a doctor of history) had an entrepreneurial streak as well and, after finding an ice-cream bucket of peas in the shed that had been earmarked as green manure for the farm decided he’d like his own pea farm. A giant square of sod was cut up in the middle of the house yard and hundreds of peas soon became a wild bramble of ‘Sleeping Beauty’ proportions.
I must admit some of my favourite memories of the Flinders farm were of TheBoy as a toddler, sitting beneath my snow pea frame plucking the pods and eating them warm from the vine, his face in shade but his little feet poking out into the sunlight.
In memory of both those special moments, the ‘random peas’ have now been planted out into egg cartons for relocation to the block. Looking through the packets, we have a possible lucky dip of: dwarf & climbing sugar snaps & snow peas, purple-podded dutch, golden-podded and greenfeast.
In my (limited) experience the purple and golden need a little more loving than the others but it’ll be a real rainbow feast if I get a whole heap of young ones to eat in the pods!
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