Natural building blocks -- Fences

 Our long trip through the British Isles this month has reawakened my longstanding interest in natural fences and building the site specific and the  sustainable. The best fences our forebears built weren't made out of the best shaped rocks, but the best available materials--- let's keep following their lead , 

And the BI's have a long history of building them and making them work efficiently and sustainably. 
And they were smart enough to not bother building them when there was more surface rock than soil ( Like uncivilized Wales and Scotland)   

Excusing any implied racism , let's just say the flatter earthmen were more sensibly engaged than the Lords of rocks, mountains and hunting because they needed food to grow, store sell  and had no deer to chase (much) 

I was giving these old Islanders heaps because where I was brought up, we have a thing called sand and it's beautiful. We Aussies have coastlines full of it and heaps of history of our Creator grinding and tilting it up, so there would be some even after sea level rise, climate change and glacial events.
Sand can be used to build great fences, but you have to have some handy.

With Australia's backbone in Granitic type igneous we have an arenaceous culture, while the poor old Brits are stuck with largely an argillaceous one .
I could go on --to a study of how they are stuck in the mud sorts but then we Aussies have our disaster prone duplex soils.  whose fine sandy  component is both a blessing and a curse .    

When you see these old sailors trying to sit comfortably on gravel ,its no wonder all the Brits still love Dee Why and Home and Away.
Perhaps YOU know of some great quartz beaches there - I struggled to find even just a few , 


Anyway  I won't have time to finish this today except to say that it was a great surprise to discover both Granitic and Glacial at Gatehouse yesterday.
What perfect pieces these various sized rock pieces were (with their flattish fractures) for fencing . Plenty of gaps for their beautiful wrens.

Let's work with nature not as some of the newbies to conservation ( I call them Echoists) do and we who insist we just worship nature as it is. l, Let's not join those cynics who cancel those whose work with nature is imperfect. Lets understand it so we understand and build on its symbiotic nature . Nature is our sister not our mother ( GK Chesterton ) 

Notice Jeremy Clarkson, how you can use conventional posts (sloping at an angle ) on either side of a fence to limit the access of deer, adventurous sheep and kangaroos ( not that they have them here) from forgetting the comfortable territorial imperative that husbandry under the Lordship of the Manor implies.

To be continued 

Playing Lord of the Manor

You have no idea of the joy we had by, not only staying at the Manor (admittedly just an old converted barn) but also meeting the Laird himself. 

They say truth is always stranger than fiction ....and it's true; The owner was so open, warm, friendly and full of character, but that was just being himself.  He was quite happy to share his challenges with us, and would with you ,  if you were prepared to pay the exorbitant cost of his accommodation; not really!

We got what we paid for,  including a soft deep valley bed ( One that brings you together even though you were fighting late in the day over who was the worst driver or navigator in the world) complete with cloud nine doona covers (20 cm deep )  tennis courts, automatic entry doors and hire of the rackets. 

Such a kind man in so many ways, he inspired me powerfully in that fond hope I had coming here to Europe to PERHAPS to see ;

Lords put into a nicer light than they often are by our own house of new lords -the half baked Marxist media representing the downtrodden disadvantaged Aussie wingers.  (see later posts where it seems to be true of others through history) 

This Laird reminded me that my reticence about Lairds and the rich landowner was far too prejudiced.
Don't feel too jealous; our time ran out very quickly but we did see deer and pheasants on the property as we drove around.  

Lords don't all come out of a box and this old bachelor ( until recently; he now has a lovely wife and baby daughter) was part of Neuvo rich set that love to take residence and squat on the lovely old mansion estates. As he said "The Old money" can no longer afford to maintain their grand designs - let alone keep warm in them. 
I too now,  find myself amongst "The pretenders  

Not only did our host make us feel very welcome with wine and chocolates, but he offered to do our washing ( We had already been in the country a week)
We were both so surprised at this , that when he offered to sort colored's from non-colored's we thought
" save this God send of a man more work ", that we agreed " don't worry "and he didn't.

Chris then was really shocked when the huge pile came back looking decidedly dirty.( my white singlets were grey). 
We had forgotten that I had bought two new black shirts and trousers from Rivers that leached a whole lot of black into everything.
Chris was quite shocked that she now had black laced underwear, but I was quite pleased.


The early morning frost was wonderful to walk in with many birds busy twittering away, 

Can't tell you all about this clever inventor, but in me talking about the recent obscene death duty taxes to be put on farms here and in Australia, he mentioned that he had just paid over $100000 dollars is this years land tax.
To be fair, this humble but rich bloke owns a lot of land.
These really desperate political moves by ignorant leaders was a big talking point with many people over here,

Farmers always have to own a huge capital asset, What poorly educated dependants  who get fed by them  do not know is never in the history of time do family farms earn more than 4% on their capital ; If that often hard sought capital base is threatened,   so is the incentive to keep the farm; and so completely .Victoria and Australia  abandoned death duties soon after my farming father died and my mother had to pay the huge tax. The British PM is threatening at tax of 20% on the capital value of farms as is our Victorian Premier.
 




We are going to The Spreewald in Germany later next month to see whether the German Lord of the Manor was a terror to my serf ancestors ,  Modras spent at least 250 years with a Lord family who were in 1850s called Schoenfeldts.  

Brutalist county

The Welsh aren't mad, but their county is really severe and brutal, so they have every reason to be so.
 No sensible person ever wanted to go there. It's brutal enough in its rock hard base to knock sense into any softy silly enough to try to make a living there on the land.

There isn't really enough soil there to attract farmers and the largely Cambrian and old Ordovician rocks resist even steel-edged tools, roadmaking and house building, just for starters. Thats generalizing a bit ,but its not easy land to farm. 

And when the rocks do finally weather, they turn to mud and silt, making the prospect of a sandy loam soil or asandy beach here, where finally landed in DA, a really rare thing. More on that elsewhere. 



Nothing is made easy for visitors even now, with town names you can't possibly say, let alone remember. Our normal fights over where we are going would have turned into absolute get out of the car standoffs except there is no space to get off the road. Be thankful you are travelling with us, but not in the car with us.  

The brutes of old loved to build fortresses with these hard rocks but, as always, the labor dried up.

Clearly too, there is a whole new language barrier with TV stations and dramas that speak only that language. This is all on an island about the size of Victoria ,whose formerly warring tribes have supposedly been united for at least a thousand years.  Mind you, their news on Europe is much more diverse and comprehensive than the monoculture of the Aussie ABC version.
A lot to be said for home grown diversity.




Something has to be said for true diversity in thought and practice, Distictively different aspects of Welsh culture is a good part of meeting some of the people such as we did in a tightly conformed old coal mining villages in the bottom of a valley, 

This Wild county to the West was such a no go land through history that it wasn't studied for the Doomsday book ( which we found a copy at the Oxfam shop ) , The British people just would not go there; Anyone with any sense has thought of emigrating to Australia where they have real beach sand and a climate to have a holiday from its relentless dark. Mind you they could all be moving back up here, now that climate change has taken over??
We visited the site of "the worst disaster in history" (as a youth in town described it) -where 114 school children died as a result of a preventable landslide in deep valley country like that shown diagrammatically. More here.  

Here's the rub -- the locals we met there were wonderful.  This was in great contrast to living in manor house toffee territory; we were treated to gifts and a concert where the men sang and the women in the audience, and me, joined in the celebration of St David's day with community singing. Got to know 3 people quite well,  one who used to run the wonderful "Angel " Hotel and one young illustrator artist and a local policeman.  
And while it was hard work climbing up and down the normal stairs of a normal workers house ( shown ) we got to experience a vision of a miner's kids old school yard ( in front of us and facing south) where the kids would grow vegetables in that narrow gap between hill, house road and boulder stream,  

The people at church wore yellow flowers and the letter post boxes were covered with "toppers ", yes the natural colors were dull, but the locals were celebrating. The daffodils ,and a few lambs were appearing .  

And would you believe it, In a place where brutal is normal , we found out what might be a Welsh  connection .
The Modra name can end in "i" in Germany ( Modri) and just about every name in Wales has too many y's and d's in it . 
Sorry folks, but we were afraid to approach these Modrydd's ,The genuine farmers on this farm near Becon are clearly the dangerous types, as you see by the way they pruned their trees.

  

Echoes of Home

 in draft

The deadening dumbness of old things --"In the bleak Midwinter"

One danger of touring is always the deadening dumbness of old things.
There was no deadness in this very old old church at old Kings Sobourne when half the congregation gathered around me to sing the song I brought from Pam and the Chorale Colac for them to sing in its wholesome original context. I had the inspiration to ask the organist to play it and these lovely people all spontaneously gathered around!
The formerly warring Viking King Olf was baptized in this very parish in 1070's.
Oh to celebrate the very best of history in a place of such history, and with the living believers still making history. 

Where we sang was no different from so many churches in the South West. Old and crumbling on the outside but, with most some small group , and some even big groups  ( such at Romsey) keeping it well alive on the inside.

You couldn't even read the writing on the many old gravestones on this church site, next to the village square, but inside they read the old words with the same power they were read every Sunday since it was built in 1080s.

Some of the foundations of the very oldest parts of the church have crumbled ( explaining the non-square window in another photo) The altar altars here bears the most amazing tapestry

Love the Brits . In order to accommodate all the planning rules ( no new toilets outside ) the elders have installed a tiny little new rest room for all comers in one of the old vestries. 

There is so much more to our adventure down here in Hampshire ,
Hopefully I will add some more soon 

Keeping in touch

 We are both finding it hard to keep you posted as we are so busy and moving around ,, so  if you really want to follow us , look up our Facebook Pages .......for the moment.


How's this though for me, the geomorphologist and student of the varied homes we live in and the roads we travel .....to find this old map of the geology of the Southlands. 

In the centre is old London town with the dear Croydon Hills  ( 4 U Monica)  and Mitcham  ( 4U Nevil )with its unique houses and more than enough chalk south of here to fill the earth with cheaper Gaviscon ( which the Irish , God bless them ) do sell here. 

More to come 


 

Decadence

We are living a truly decadent moment. 
New shoes, eyewear, pajamas, mattresses, blankets and lying down to sleep on a plane. 

It certainly seemed so to us when we thought of all the $ we had spent just to put our feet up on the Emirates business class journey across the world. You don't want to know!

And the decadence continued as we ate the absolutely best food and got ourselves washed with hot towels and slept in their lounge pajamas with blankets, mattresses, eye covers and slippers. `The washing and waste volume would have been huge, but what can you do as a conservationist but make sure you try to eat every piece of delectable chocolate and mid coarse meal you are primed with every few hours.
And decadence grows on you. I started to really enjoy it. 

And why not? The West in the rural setting has always celebrated the moment of excess because sometimes the earth produces more than we can eat or sell.
City people miss out on this wonderful moment when excess takes over;
I remember well when my Father (an Orchardist ) would just give away as much as he could because it was valueless once supply exceeded demand. Normal history for our antecedents, but a matter of choice( to give)  for us, the richest generation in history. 

My dad knew how to enjoy the moment of excess for others,  The moments of depravation for himself and us were less obvious but real to "our women"( G K Chesterton) 

These tensions between scarcity and abundance and how to live with them were a given to our forebears. Farmers and even landless serfs like the Modras (for hundreds of years ) who take a whole days rest on compulsory rest day know and learn to love life within its local limits ;
They found life hard  but to know that we all have enough ( and that the Lord of the manor cared in our case ) meant its Ok to enjoy a moment of indulgence and grace; even a moment of depravation. Hard to keep things in perspective though - isn't it, especially now our grandchildren are going to run short of at least one thing; fossil fuels and for all our wealth our governments do the sharing thing ( which is not so much fun ) The farmer where we are staying had to pay out over $100000 dollars in land tax this year and we were his first tenants in one of his barns . +

When my dad had plums, every other farmer had plums, so that wonderful and valuable fruit of his labor , like the watermelons we saw carted to Melbourne from Mildura was left to rot where they finally landed. That good reality is decay and its natural even when we do our best. 
Infact, in the big picture (the place of rest)  our soils and plants need that decay to keep life going,

Composition and Decomposition,

 Unless the seed of the fruit of labor dies, there can be no life. Noone talks of death which means we are not at rest about it and our people worry beyond reason. There is growth and there is decomposition and they are all in a cycle - a good cycle; a sustainable cycle
Our world panics about scarcity partly because it sees only the decadent side that eats at growth ;( and the one case of immanent high cost of fossil fuels) 

Thankfully for those of us who live on the land both scarcity and abundance live in harmony, Thankfully for those who live as recyclers every day, even the threat of paying more for liquid fuels does not worry us. 
Soon people will stop worrying about things they have only a smidgeon of reasons to worry about ; like the impact of CO2 concentrations on Global warming.  


YET it goes against the grain to the well educated and disciplined Westerner to rest easy with rot. By being productive for centuries and using that surplus of savings from selling more than we can eat, our forefathers invested in innovation that drove the adoption of innovations and further efficiencies for the leisure time we were now enjoying.  Those who force panic over a little decadence do not understand life and life in its fullness.
Make a stand when a resource is wasted but don't go woke and not see that life will continue with the same recycling systems that operate whether we abuse or use them . 

Decadence is not always bad 
A bit of decadence then is not bad; its even natural. What doesn't work in the shallow one sided worries of this world is the idea of a life without dying and decadence.

Decadence is not the complete answer, but scarcity and abundance are: more elsewhere 
you just have to know your own limits in your own area, 

The Decadence in the Desert


Landing in Dubia, those with more than enough mere money, wanted to sell us glass insulated swimming pools in the desert 6 stories up. ADS are all over the air as you watch the screen and even when you get to England . 

So, what does someone cocooned is such a place of lifetime decadence live?   For all the money from all that oil, they can't desalinate enough water to turn the desert into the gardens we enjoy back here, Death and decay, like growth, has its best place and timing.  The salts accumulated in the soils over eons in those places rise up and eventually kill most of the plants.
They have plenty of sand and water and they can dig it up and make cement cities. The more water you apply to soils there though, the worse it gets; abundance of one thing is not the answer, but it can be an answer for other things.  

There are so few leaves growing freely in such a materially rich place.
None of us can have it all but perhaps we can all find some abundance to be thankful for.


Leaves reconstitute the grand object of the West's current concern, Carbon Dioxide .
ALL leaves for all time which remind us of the grace of life in creation. 
Its leaves that source most of the good we can enjoy when taking the rest and indulgence that was always meant to be a least one day of rest each week for every one of us. 

 `