Heatwave

I wonder how our established forest gardens will cope with heat like this. My fruit trees are mainly unaffected though a sheep did sneak around the canal mud to strip leaves off the apples. Because they were planted late, a few were set back but I’m sure they’ll put out leaves next spring. Martin Crawford just wrote to ask for payment for my autumn delivery. 

I’m supposed to have the plastic mulch down by now but a bike crash has put my left arm out of heavy action for a bit. I re-assembled all of my bikes and, with the Tour de France on telly, was inspired to get some miles in. Just as I was nearing home, I misjudged a pot hole, burst my front tube and landed on the deck. This reminded me of an invention I made when I last fell: a fabric that absorbs the first drag of the road and so reduces road rash. Lightweight armour for road cyclists. I think I’ll visit the patent office with that one because lots of newbie cyclists will pay anything for the latest fashion.

Still, I survived to the end of the Tour and, although injured and infected with a cold, made it across the finish line last night with Monica. If I had my wits, I’d use this physical down time to start sketching the building designs I want to put up for Council approval: barn interior, lean-to barn, Monica’s shed, brick oven and solar panel-supporting cloisters. If I can keep that stream of activity on schedule I hope to start building next year.

It’s clogging season in Calderdale, with lots of pagan rituals every weekend. Yesterday was Littleborough’s Rushcart parade, complete with rushes from Warland Farm. Ostensibly to please the pope, they bring rushes to carpet the church but the accompanying drunken ribaldry is distinctly unholy and has had the event banned in the past.

There’s a pleasant mist in the valley, today, making the world a lot less harsh than it has been, recently. A drop of rain would be nice. 

A new half-brother, Chris, has made contact and wants to meet.

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