wild food, wild places, wild times
Patience is required. Although I wish that spring were here, it stubbornly refuses to be anything other than winter. For every beautiful, frosty morning, there is a day like today, when the clouds hang low and dew forms in my beard when I step outside. I can confirm that it does, indeed, drizzle in France.…
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The mornings are cold. Frost clings in sharp little lances to everything, the sky is a pale blue blanket, and we all shiver underneath. My morning routine is a chilly one; let chickens out, defrost chickens, feed chickens, stare at the sunrise until my eyes freeze over, drink tea. I worry that the chickens are…
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We awake early to a foggy morning, wrap up warm (it’s cold now, summer didn’t last forever after all), and let the chickens out. They, as is their wont, stare at us, gurgle weirdly, and then proceed to continue digging to China. They seem to have settled in nicely. The last few days we have…
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The chicken run is finished. Finally. It became something of a personal Hadrian’s Wall. (Hen-drian’s Wall? Anyone? No?) This is the first fence I’ve ever built, and it’s a surprisingly satisfying thing to do. We found a chap in a village about two miles away who makes and sells acacia fenceposts. He has a massive…
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Two weeks in, and our new life has settled into a kind of routine. We have both returned to work (a necessary evil until we go completely off-grid/the zombie apocalypse happens/Trump gets in to the White House and presses ‘launch’ instead of ‘snooze’), but we are able to do this from home. A run in…
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kieran jefferson 