Struan Farm

Happy Easter, However You Might Celebrate

John and I have very different approaches when it comes to celebrating holidays here at Struan Farm. It goes without saying that John has quite a bit more Scottish blood in him than I do in me, but you should be able to figure that one out.

Here's John:

Old school Cadbury creme eggs, one for each of us. And here's Karen: 

Home baked carrot cake with just a wee bit of Easter decoration, along with a leg of lamb to be roasted with potatoes and veg. Basically John's favourite meal on the planet. 

Happy Easter, however you might choose to celebrate!

My First (Quince) Jelly

You will know I make quite a bit of different fruit jams here at Struan Farm. This summer I made strawberry, blueberry and blackcurrant. Since we ran out of homemade jam at the end of last year's farmstay season I decided to make sure we had more than enough in the pantry this year. Store bought jam, heaven forbid! I've made apricot and plum jams in the past as well. But my homemade jams are really for guests and the grandkids mostly, John and I don't consume much toast or jam ourselves.

This past week my friend Glen shipped me a box of surplus quince from her orchard in Motueka. She confessed up front that they were spotted, bruised and battered, but could be used for making jelly. Jelly. Hmmm, I'd never made jelly before, and we don't eat much if any of that either. My mother used to make strawberry jelly, I remember dripping cheese cloth bags in the cellar and jars sealed with melted wax. I've operated under the (perhaps incorrect) impression that jelly was more complicated to make than jam.

I then harvested our own, rather meagre, crop of quinces. 

Now John isn't crazy about my Nigel Slater roast quince recipe, a dessert dish that I absolutely love and whip out at this time of the year. I've posted a link on the blog several times, but if you search for Nigel Slater roast quince recipe you will find it. Quinces are poached in a sugar syrup until soft and then roasted with maple syrup and aromatic cloves, star anise, cinnamon. Yum. Spiced, warm, autumnal yum.

But on the spur of the moment I decided to give jelly a try. What not? If nothing else it would keep my brain alive learning something new for another day. And coincidentally we had more than 1 kg. of our own Struan Farm unblemished quinces (sorry Glen). I've still got a few left to roast for me.

I found what looked to be an easy recipe by Allyson Gofton. The unpeeled fruit is roughly chopped and put into a pan with one halved, thick-skinned lemon and water:

It is brought to the boil, cooked until soft for one hour, and then left to cool for at least 2-3 hours. This can be left overnight. The cooled fruit is then strained through a jelly bag or muslin/cheese cloth over a colander. The trick here is not to squeeze the fruit so the resultant juice is clear not cloudy. Lucky for me, our friends at Country Trading were able to express courier a pack of their beautiful organic cotton cheese cloth. (The rural courier gods smiled indeed, and the cheese cloth was here in Piopio the next day from Ruby Bay, amazing service!)

The juice is then measured, and put into a preserving pan with 1 cup of sugar for each cup of juice. I had 2 1/3 cups of juice. It didn't look like all that much, to be honest, but it was a beautiful light pink.

Once the sugar is added it is stirred until dissolved over low heat. The pot is then brought to the boil and boils for about 15 minutes or until "set point" is reached. Some people screw around with thermometers, I just put a plate into the freezer and drizzle the hot jelly/jam across. If you can run your finger through it and it stays put, you're done.

The recipe yielded two jars, which is perfect for us. The jelly has a lovely, delicate flavour and a beautiful pink colour. What's interesting to me is that John, who professes not to like quince, was spooning it out of the pan to eat. Seems I've both learned how to make jelly and found something quince that John does like!

p.s. these retro looking Agree jars are also available on Country Trading, along with the rings and tops. They're a good size for jams/jellies and the tops seal well. If you don't know about Country Trading, you should.

 

Totara Trials

I'm thinking John and I have been doing a bit of walking around together lately here at Struan Farm contemplating projects, not that that's a bad thing. This time we were in the backyard near the veggie gardens, having a discussion about extending my tomato bed and building another framed fence for next season so I can rotate each year between the two. Yes, planning starts early here to get things in the work queue.

We ended up taking a major detour when I looked up into the totara trees at the edge of the bush after seeing movement, a bird, in the tree. I then noticed pale berries. Similar ones can be seen in the kahikateas at this time of year, but we have never seen them on totara before. This means they provide food for birds, and more importantly they have seeds from which we can (hopefully) grow trees!

What's interesting is that they're not on every tree, and not in large quantity, which made me wonder if there are male and female trees. Either way, additional homework was now required. We found and gathered 20 seeds, popping them into a seed tray in the glasshouse as an experiment.

 

I dug out "Totara: A Natural and Cultural History" by Philip Simpson. Yet another book I've given John! This is the definitive book on totara. Yes, there are male and female trees, and they have a two year pollination cycle. What isn't clear is if all females in a particular area fruit in the same year and then not the next, or if certain female trees fruit one year and others the next as an insurance policy against a bad season.

This has been an important discovery for Karen and John. We've got a small radiata pine plantation that is scheduled for harvesting in the next year or two, and are in the midst of deciding whether to replant just one type of native tree in this area or a mixture (1,000 trees or so). John is inclined toward totara because they grow quickly and are happy in the area. I'm not sure about a solid block of totara, would probably prefer a mix of some different native trees, but I am a bit more positive about totara now knowing they provide food for birds.  I also know it's probably easier to plant a stand of one or two types of trees. The replacement planting is not for harvesting, rather it will be a permanent native bush area on the property. I'm not looking forward to the harvesting and associated mess of the pines, need to look past that to our ultimate objective of getting the pines out and having more native bush. (Note: the radiata pine trees were planted by my father-in-law for eventual harvest and will fall down if they're not taken down. Plantation pines are (or were) a bit of thing here in NZ.)

To finish this chapter of the totara story, Clifford and I went out for a long walk that morning, seed gathering cup in hand. I found three more female trees, one an old grandmother with larger seeds and berries than the three others. I think she is rather special. I now have planted 84 totara seeds in trays in the glasshouse. Stay tuned!

 

Hasta La Vista Himalayan Honeysuckle

A few days ago John and I were down at the pond here at Struan Farm, discussing the design for new fencing around the back side to keep the stock out as well as additional native plantings. I have pledged to do the planting and to crack into weeding the surrounds as well, since we need to figure out where gaps are in the native trees and flaxes I planted over two years ago now. Some things have done well while others have been strangled out. It's past time for a clean up, it is major work to be done in instalments when time permits.

In the process of walking around I noticed this:

The plant was leaning out over the dam next to native "toetoe," the magenta colour of the flowers/berries caught my eye. This didn't look native, oh oh. In fact, it had the look of something invasive and bad.  We pulled off a sprig and returned to the house to do some research.

My weed "bible" remains Weedbusters New Zealand's "Weed Control Handbook." It is a great reference guide for anyone with bush and gardens. I bought it as a Christmas gift for John many years ago, but guess who uses it most? Me. There is basic information by category (garden, climbers and vines, shrubs and trees, and ground covers and fillers). They advise whether something is a noxious weed or simply invasive and worth getting out while you still can. There is information on how to control particular weeds, chemical and non. It is one of those really useful books I am not sure I could do without. Many of these plants are things gardeners planted years ago that have simply run rampant in the NZ climate and need to be eradicated.

It turns out this is "Himalayan Honeysuckle," (leycesteria formosa). It is spread by birds and water, is very invasive, and pushes out native species. And since it's flowering and fruiting right now we trundled back down to the pond with loppers and poison gel to see if we could remove it. Fortunately poison wasn't required, John was able to cut the branches then pull the plant out by the roots. His able assistant dragged the branches to the trailer and picked up the purple berries as they dropped off.  Don't want those purple berries travelling from the pond by stream down to the other ponds and the river or we'll have a much bigger problem.

Beautiful but very bad news. Bye, bye Himalayan Honeysuckle!

 

Cake Pops: Maybe Yes, Maybe No

Friend Kris alerted me to a baking and catering trend at parties in the US: cake pops. I understand they're hip and happening here in New Zealand as well, but we can't keep up with everything, can we?

So I found a recipe and suggested Kris give them a try, but she's not a big dessert fan or baker, and bounced the challenge back into my lap. And as you know I've got heaps of time on my hands. But with Easter coming up I thought it might be fun to test them out with an Easter themed decoration or two over the weekend. I am such a sucker, aren't I?

What I hadn't realised is that cake pops are made by baking a cake then mixing the crumbled cake up with icing. This dough is then formed into balls and refrigerated for several hours, after which the balls are stuck onto sticks, dipped into melted chocolate and decorated. The recipe above indicated that the best way to dry them after dipping was to stick the pops into a styrofoam block or use a cardboard box with small holes cut into the top. With no styrofoam in the house I organised the latter option. 

It's a messy process. The sticks are put into the balls, which are then quickly dipped into the melted chocolate. The chocolate is blobby and drips. I'd hoped to do some Easter bunnies with marshmallow ears, and some pops just with sprinkles. But the ears kept sliding off and the pops dripping! The box holder didn't work at all, the pops kept falling over. (Note to anyone who wants to make these: invest in a styrofoam block or forget making these.)  At one point I tried pushing the pops into ripe peaches on the bench, they stayed up briefly and then toppled over. Sigh. I finally laid them down, and gave up on making more bunnies. I'll use that idea for cupcakes, which are much easier to execute.

They do look cute. If you don't mind a flat top, the easiest thing to do would be to put them on their tops to harden in the fridge. In terms of taste, I was afraid these would be sicky sweet, so not my type of thing at all, but once they were chilled they tasted reasonably good.

Bottom line: cake pops, maybe yes maybe no. Probably too fiddly to make except for special occasions, unless you're one of those uber perfectionist bakers who can pipe and decorate with the best of them. That isn't me!

 

Piopio Heritage Fruit Tree Project: Preserving the Fruit Trees & Their Stories

I'm on the cusp of starting something. It's a bit of a personal project that could turn into something major, I'm just not sure yet. I'll know more as things happen or not, but here's where I am right now, on the cusp.

At this time of the year driving around our area one can see quite a number of fruiting apple trees on the roadsides. You will know from reading this blog that I'm interested in heirloom/heritage fruit varieties, we've planted quite a number in our three orchard areas here at Struan Farm.

I've decided to see how much I might be able to find out about old fruit (and nut) trees that were planted and still survive around the district, learning as much as I can about their history and varieties. In some ways this is an extension of something John and I did almost ten years ago now, when we walked over the neighbouring farm to the old Huia homestead site to take cuttings from a huge fig tree still growing and fruiting there. I'm calling it the "Huia Fig." We now have two of those fig trees growing at Struan Farm. The one in the Pet Paddock in particular is thriving. I picked the first ripe fig yesterday, the first of many!

 

I'm interesting in preserving both the fruit trees and their stories, since I don't want either to be lost. So I've started to put the word out on FB, have just set up a new community FB page called Piopio Heritage Fruit Tree Project and in our local Piopio newsletter "BirdTalk," asking people if they'd be willing to contact me about trees on their properties. People are able to post information directly on the FB page without needing to see me if they don't want to! I suspect I'll end up ringing people John went to school and grew up with, those who most likely have old fruit trees on their family farms, to see if I might call in and talk about their trees. Friend Sandy Dawson from Greenmount Llamas contacted me to say that they have an old pear tree on their farm near the original homestead site on the property that dates back to 1895. It's fruiting right now, she invited me to come see the tree and take photos. 

The fruit is quite crisp, rather like a nashi. So I've got my first variety to try to identity. When I learn how to graft, and about the right rootstock (sometimes quince is used for pears) I will return so we can try to grow more of this particular variety.

In starting to do my research I've learned that this same thing is happening across the country, so I'm not alone in my thinking. Most notably South Coast Environment Society has undertaken an "Open Orchard Project" for many years now. The goal of the project has been to get a diverse range of old varieties of healthy heritage fruit trees back in the local community in order to preserve both the fruit and the heritage, as well as teach skills and give people access to locally grown food. To date the project has identified over 80 varieties and planted over 7,000 fruit trees in Southland. They've visited over 35 old orchards, most planted between 1850 and 1910, mapping, photographing and sampling varieties to identify them properly with external assistance. The organisation is also interested in helping people in other regions try to do the same thing.  

Let me say upfront I'm not contemplating anything on this scale. I am interested mostly in finding old varieties that grow well in our area that might be saved through propagation, along with their stories.  I have contacted SCES for advice, ordering their "Open Orchard Handbook."  If they are able to introduce me to anyone else trying to undertake the same thing in the Waikato or Taranaki regions I'll make contact with them as well in an effort to avoid reinventing the wheel. 

For me it's about learning, saving the fruit, and telling the stories. Stay tuned.

 

 

The Bold, The Brave & The Sheepish

There are days when John is off duty here at Struan Farm, leaving me to jobs like moving the sheep between paddocks. If I can get Rosie, Ruby, and my other (former) pet lambs to cooperate I'm golden. But sometimes they're otherwise occupied. They've got grass to munch, after all.

A few days ago I had to hike up top to move the mob from the boundary paddock down at the river through John's protected native reserve into the paddock above the Cottage. I was told it was a piece o'cake, I'd just have to call them and they'd move.

When I got up the hill by the gate no one seemed all that keen to move. Seems they weren't ready, really. They weren't hanging out by the gate, I had to call them to get their attention. I could have left them there another day but decided to move them anyway, as instructed.

I stood by the side of the gate and kept calling. The first wave came through after awhile, led by Ruby and Cookie. I encouraged them to move along, which they did. And then I waited. And waited. A second wave came through with Pip, Pepper, and Rosie. 

The last and largest group took time. I finally walked to the other end of the track so they couldn't see me, since I seemed to be spooking them. Eventually I saw one sheep come cautiously along, followed by others. I stayed well away, near the bush, behind the gate. They came wandering through at last and were happy to see all that fresh grass, not that there's any shortage of that this season.

 

Yes, it was the Bold, the Brave, and the Sheepish here at Struan Farm.

Nutty Lady vs. The Turkeys

A bit more on the art of gathering walnuts after this morning's harvest here at Struan Farm. Shall I start off by saying it was less than a zen moment? Yesterday on my way to food shop I noticed a mob of feral turkeys munching away under our main walnut tree in the roadside Pet Paddock. Hmmm, not good news. I needed to get back down there to pick up the next wave of walnuts.

This morning I grabbed a bucket and wandered into the paddock. It had rained heavily last night and showers are forecast for the next 2-3 days, so important to get whatever nuts have fallen before weather and turkeys complicate things further.

There were a large number of nuts on the ground, so many that I felt a bit overwhelmed initially. (Remember that we already have six trays drying in the garage.) I thought I was on the home stretch but the walnut tree clearly has other ideas. It was dropping nuts while I scrambled around scooping them up, probably having a good giggle at my expense. My bucket overflowed, so I went into the garden shed and grabbed a big plastic pot for the rest. 

Once I'd made it around the tree once or twice I started to calm down. It hadn't started raining yet and there was no sign of the turkeys. They know better. I did manage to start doing my walnut shuffle and change perspectives, yielding 60 or so more nuts.  A light rain then started to fall but my job for today was done.

Now to spread them out on newspaper covered seed trays to dry for six weeks. And time for this nutty lady to take a few cleansing breaths and have a cup of tea.  

 

Zen and the Art of Walnut Gathering

I've been gathering walnuts beneath our trees in the Pet Paddock here at Struan Farm every day or so this past week. I've adopted a walking motion we'll call the "Walnut Shuffle," where I roll my feet along the ground to feel the nuts without putting pressure on them in the grass.  There's only an inadvertent crunch every so often, oops.

We have two walnut trees in the Pet Paddock that were planted by John's parents many years ago now. The rats and turkeys seem to prefer one tree while I prefer the other, so there's enough for everyone to share in the autumn harvest. Unless I get busy and leave too many nuts languishing on the ground, at which point they move in.

I sometimes think about things as I shuffle around. As you do. Gathering walnuts is a form of walking meditation, at least for me. What has been more of a revelation is that by changing directions and perspectives, I keep finding more nuts. Even where I've walked previously.  It's a bit strange, as if the tree puts out gifts for me to find by being mindful.

My lesson here is that changing one's perspective and being mindful are the key to gathering walnuts. In a nutshell (groan), rather like life itself.

Granny McFlitter, The Champion Knitter

During my travels in the car today I listened to the Nine to Noon Show on Radio NZ ("RNZ"). One of the segments had a review of a new children's book called "Granny McFlitter, The Champion Knitter," by Heather Haylock and Lael Chisholm, as well as another new children's book called "The Yark." You can listen to it here.

It is a New Zealand book and incorporates into the story the sinking of a ship called "The Rena" off the Tauranga coast, a major environmental disaster. But (as you might expect) it was the knitting that drew me in. So yes, a bookstore was added to the errand list.

This is a very cute story, and a must read for any knitters and those who love them. Most knitters, like Granny McFlitter, just want to be needed!

Peachy Keen

The Golden Queen peach tree in our orchard here at Struan Farm decided to fruit this year, big time. For once the birds have behaved themselves. I suspect they gorged sufficiently on nectarines, and there are enough apples for everyone. So they've left Golden Queen to us.

We love eating juicy, fresh organic peaches, but with apples coming as well there's only so much fresh fruit one can eat each day. And while I'm an aspiring bottler, my current repertoire (and skills) are limited to jams, chutneys and pickled things. I feel secure with them in the knowledge it's very hard to poison anyone. You can tell easily if something's off. I bottled plums last year but was a bit scared to use them after all that.

So my motto with surplus from the garden and orchard remains: come up with something that can be frozen (or made into jam, chutney and pickled things). Particularly now that I have a much larger freezer. And I've learned today that it's very easy to freeze fresh peaches!

Peaches are scored with an "x" on the bottom, blanched in boiling water for one minute, and put into an ice bath before peeling and slicing. I then put mine into a plastic container and filled it to 1/2 inch below the top with water before freezing. I had 12 to play with, but obviously could have put more into the container. You can read more about doing this along with options for sugar syrups here. 

It couldn't have been easier. Exactly what I'm looking for this time of the year! 

 

Saving Native Flax Seeds

It's the time of the year to be saving seeds here at Struan Farm. I've saved heaps of flower seeds: echinacea, nigella, scabiosa, astrantia, echinops, and poppies, along with tomato seeds of course. I toss some of the flower seeds into the gardens now to give them a head start on next year, but save enough to spray around in spring as an insurance policy.

It's also time to get onto the flax. We've grown a reasonable number of flax plants from seed previously for John's extended native bush reserve along the stream to the Mangaotaki River, but we need quite a few more.

Seeds from the chocolate brown flax beside our drive have been harvested as well as the huge flax down at the edges of the main pond. Variety in size and colour is good.

Now just to get them planted.

Resisting the Urge

Right now I am resisting the urge to give the gardens here at Struan Farm their autumn clean out and cut back. For the bees and the monarch butterflies really. The bees are still busy, working away on any and all flowers, while the second generation of monarch butterfly caterpillars are on the verge of going into chrysalis. They will need nectar once they emerge.

So I've exercised restraint, which is somewhat unusual for me. I've done a bit of deadheading instead, saving the major work in the gardens for a few more weeks. Easter weekend feels a bit right. There are no long holiday weekends around here.

I know, it still looks good from a distance, but trust me, these flowers have done their dash and the weeds also need attention. It's time for everything/one to have a rest, except for me!

Man vs. Tree

As previously advised, there's always robust debate around Struan Farm when it comes to taking down mature, exotic trees.

John has been wanting to fell the huge gum (eucalyptus) tree in the Old Orchard Paddock down near the Homestead for over a year now. It's close to the boundary fence with the neighbour, and too big for him and Mike to fell safely. He consulted a local friend who'd helped us with trees on our house site a number of years ago, but the tree won that discussion, intimidating him as well. This tree has been dropping big branches for years, one would think twice about walking around that paddock on a windy day.

John has wanted it down before it falls down, damaging other trees, fences, heavens knows what in the process. Karen, on the other hand, frets about the absence of its canopy above the Homestead gardens and in the general landscape, also about the potential collateral damage to nearby heirloom apple trees, overflow from our orchard at the house. 

With the digger here for a few days John rang the local arborist, who had looked at the tree. He'd said his team could fell it with help from a digger holding a wire rope during the process. One of my young apple trees, a "Liberty" that fruited for the first time this year, was deemed to be in the line of damage. That was dug up by the digger and replanted in an area designated as out of harm's way by John.

In the morning the digger went to work grading the bottom part of the paddock, where we've recently taken down an old firewood shed, while the arborists set up. The cows in the paddock next door watched on. It took two different chains saws, more petrol, and almost forty minutes of sawing for the tree to be felled. I started to think that John might have been wrong about the potential for this tree to fall over. It did not want to go, and, silly to say this, but I felt its pain. Shades of "The Hidden Life of Trees!"

The clean up now begins. A gift of beautiful firewood, to say the least. And that "Liberty" apple tree that had been relocated out of harm's way? It was crushed, but seems to have bounced back once the branches that fell on it were removed. Unfortunately, we can't say the same for the Akane (Japanese eating apple, the one that fruited so well this season). Despite being designated as safe it was split quite severely. John has attempted triage, wrapping it back together tightly and sealing the wound with pruning paste. So you see there is some foundation to Karen's little anxieties when trees start to come down around the place. Things don't always go according to plan.

We'll regroup on the apples in winter; I might get another Peasgood Nonsuch out of this little episode if I play my cards right. 






 

On the Road to Transformation

Our Monarch Butterfly caterpillars here at Struan Farm march to their own internal clocks, they don't follow the schedule of other monarchs around the country apparently. I stay on top of what is happening elsewhere via Monarch Butterfly New Zealand Trust and the Moths and Butterflies of New Zealand Trust's FB page.

While other monarch butterfly fans are proudly reporting chrysalises all over, our caterpillars are taking their sweet time, munching down the swan plants to nubs. Why leave food on the table? They have just started to move from the swan plants to other locations where they will transform themselves. I'm needing to be careful walking around the lawns at the moment! 

This isn't an overnight process. Transformation takes time (isn't that rather an understatement Karen?). One cannot sit and watch it happen, at least not without the time and patience of Buddha.

But For One Butternut

The New World Little Garden I grew this year down at the Homestead here at Struan Farm managed to thrive on virtual neglect. I watered it when I remembered to, which wasn't very often. Despite that, and much to my surprise, we harvested silverbeet/swiss chard, six zucchini and at least the same number of butternut squash. We also had borage and sweet peas flourish alongside the veggies. There were also some yellow beans, but I just didn't get around to those.

I was getting ready to pull it all up and out as part of my autumn clean up of the gardens when I found this:

 

Yet another carefully hidden butternut squash, one that grew up into the hydrangea leaning over the raised bed. It's dangling rather artfully, don't you think? So my Little Garden clean up effort has been put on pause, for now.

 

Infrastructure Happening

John and nephew Mike have started a bit of a project at our main pond here at Struan Farm this past week. John decided the intake pipe at the pond needed to be replaced. We've temporarily drained the pond to control the algae and allow for some clean up of weeds that tend to grow as well, so now is the time for this to happen.

The associated infrastructure is considerably more elaborate than I anticipated, boys being boys:

My part in this wee project is scheduled for winter, when I'll crack into weeding around the edges and landscaping once again. The native flaxes and trees I planted three or so years ago now are reasonably established, especially the cabbage trees and flaxes. I just need to tidy things up and figure out where any gaps are in the planting. It's much easier to tackle that in the winter, when/if it's not raining and there's not quite as much work to do around the gardens!

Monarchs, The Next Generation

It's all happening with monarch butterflies and their caterpillars, the circle of life, once again here at Struan Farm.

The butterflies that hatched from their chrysalides a few weeks ago mated and laid eggs in my large regenerated swan plant, along with the other smaller plants I've spread around the back garden and the new "butterfly reserve" on the edge of our roadside bank. I was counting 15 or so at one time floating around the gardens at our house, as well as seeing others around the property. Caterpillars are now in evidence, big time.

I'm expecting my main job will be shuttling caterpillars off the smaller swan plants they've munched down onto other plants in a different part of the gardens, until the chrysalides start to form. I'll be standing by for that over the next few days, between farmstay guests from the USA, New Zealand, and Argentina.

The butterflies that hatch from this next wave will live over winter, migrating to wherever they go here in New Zealand, and mate next spring. Hopefully they will return to do that here at Struan Farm.

More on Jacob's Ladder

On our recent visit to Gibbs Farm one of my favourite sculptures was a new installation by Gerry Judah called "Jacob's Ladder." This prompted a discussion with the friends we were with, since I remembered a song we sang growing up about Jacob's Ladder. I thought it might have been a hymn, since the words were about climbing Jacob's ladder and being a "soldier of the Cross." I also remembered a string creation like "Cat's Cradle" that was called "Jacob's Ladder." My memory banks were bubbling away. 

I decided that this sculpture was meant to represent a ladder up to heaven, and it certainly looks like that to me.

Seems there's considerably more to the story about Jacob's Ladder now that I've done a bit of homework. Jacob's Ladder does have a biblical origin, in Genesis. The prophet Jacob is travelling and dreams of a ladder or stairway on which angels are ascending to and descending from heaven. Later God reveals himself to Jacob, promising him his family will be large and will inherit the Promised Land. In this vision Jacob also sees a ladder/stairway that is meant to be the connection between God and Man. Many Christians believe Jesus Christ became the ladder, reconnecting Man with God after the connection was severed due to original sin.

The song I remembered takes its origins from an African American slave spiritual dating back to 1825. It was one of the few spirituals to be adopted by white Christians, and was recorded as a folk song with somewhat different lyrics by Pete Seeger in the 1930's/40's, Arlo Guthrie, and Bruce Springsteen, amongst others. The spiritual implies God's promise to Jacob of finding the Promised Land will also lead the slaves to freedom.

And yes, there is a string game called "Jacob's Ladder." Find out how to make it here.

I've spent some time searching for British artist Gerry Judah's statement about the sculpture to get an idea of what he was trying to express, but haven't found anything as yet. Perhaps it's so obvious that we're meant to know, I'm just not inclined to try to second guess any artist. 

The "HMS Maurie"

You may remember that John and nephew Mike have been refurbishing a vintage wooden rowboat that was made by John's father Maurie many moons ago here at Struan Farm. It was given to a family friend who returned it after 30 years (or more). John decided he needed another project, so over the past few months it has been stripped, had a few holes mended and fibreglass put on the seams, then repainted.

We're still not sure where this boat is going. It's quite heavy. Most likely it will float on one of the ponds, within reach so it can be cleaned out from time to time. It has been christened the "HMS Maurie."

I'll have to get a bottle of champagne for the official launch party!