Country Living (UK)

THE GOOD LIFE

Ideas and advice for would-be smallholde­rs in the country and the city

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We’ve had three different hen houses over the years, each a metaphor for our smallholdi­ng experience. The first – an expensive ark – was a mistake. Never go for style over substance. The second – a flimsy garden shed – crashed over in a dramatic, westerly gust. Big, it turns out, isn’t always better. The third – a wooden playhouse – was pretty, but practicall­y impossible to clean – and slightly confusing for the children. The ‘new’, fourth, hen house is second-hand. Standing on stilts like a Sussex barn, it was clearly made by someone who understood hens – the base pulls out, like a drawer, making it easy to clean and, best of all, it’s got a solar-operated door. No more panicked midnight dashes to the hen house when we’ve forgotten to lock them in, praying the fox hasn’t got there first.

It’s the last quiet month in the bottom of the valley before spring explodes into action, and the time of year we always replace tired equipment, mend fences and plan the vegetable garden for the

Sally and her family live on a 12-acre plot, sharing their space with a flock of sheep, horses, chickens, ducks and the occasional peacock. Maintainin­g a vegetable garden, orchard, fields for hay and grazing, and a wild pond, Sally has perfected the art of running a smallholdi­ng on a budget (sallycoult­hard.co.uk)

year ahead. A favourite task is to take a large sheet of paper and pencil crayons, and sketch out my thoughts for the vegetable plot. I’ve been seduced over the years by French potagers; how I covet all those edible flowers, blowsy lettuces and neat rows of root vegetables, carefully embroidere­d into formal, deliciousl­y edible patchworks. I keep my drawings from year to year – noting the triumphs and disasters in the margins. They also serve to remind me what was planted where, so I can keep an eye on my crop rotation.

I won’t plant anything outside quite yet. Down south, my mother-in-law is already sowing her broad beans, beetroot and Swiss chard, but it often snows here right up until Easter, so I’ll wait a little longer. The kids have started off some vegetable seeds on the windowsill, though – chillies, tomatoes, aubergines and salad leaves.

This is the time of year for mulching. After a few failed attempts using horse manure (which was free but infuriatin­gly full of weed seeds), we discovered the delights of mushroom compost, which we get delivered in bulk in tonne bags (although you can buy it from some garden centres). It’s particular­ly good for the vegetable patch, as it often contains chalk, making it quite alkaline, which most vegetable plants prefer. It also helps to reduce the risk of clubroot in brassica plants, such as broccoli and kale. Two inches of this ‘black gold’ not only enriches the soil, ready for next month’s seeds, but also keeps the weeds at bay and the ground lovely and moist. It doesn’t even need digging in – the worms pull it down in their own time. You might have to fish out the occasional blue plastic glove that a careless picker has dropped but, apart from that, it’s one of smallholdi­ng’s easier early spring pleasures.

“We have discovered the joys of mushroom compost”

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IDEAS & ADVICE FOR WOULD-BE SMALLHOLDE­RS
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