JUMP START THE SPRITE

Dylan taking off the driveway gate in preparation for the Permablitz, Flemington

Pushing the Sprite car down the driveway in preparation for the Permablitz, Flemington

A large man in a small car is always entertaining

Push starting the Sprite car


Popping the Sprite hood

Water bottle in engine of the Sprite

Connecting jump leads to the Hilux

Connecting the jump leads to the cars

Austin Healey Sprite Logo

Jump leads

Austin Healey Sprite Dashboard

View out window of Austin Healey Sprite

An Austin-Healey Sprite has been holidaying at our house, but with deliveries of sand and stone on their way it had to roll on out. Purely for our own amusement we convinced our tallest housemate to take the wheel of this stylish sardine can.

Much to the glee of the RACV man visiting our neighbour initial attempts to roll start this “death trap” ended in a cough and splutter at the bottom of the hill. On closer inspection we discovered its owner had disconnected the engine, the boys made sure to thank him for remembering after we had run out of slope.

After an hour of jumper leads and noncommittal rumbles the engine jumped to life purring like a 500kg tiger with a bee in its bonnet. Taking a turn around the block, I had the unnerving feeling my bottom was just about to skim the asphalt, but anything as cute as this can be forgiven for being a tiny bit impractical.

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TO SEE A CARROT FLOWER

 

 

Carrot flower in the garden

Carrot flower up close

Chook tractor where beetroot garden bed used to be in preparation for the Flemington Permablitz

Transplanting the lily pilly in preparation for the Flemington Permablitz

Beetroot harvested in preparation for the Flemington Permablitz

Sylan putting up a tarp in preparation for the Flemington Permablitz

Tying the tarp to the old clothesline in preparation for the Flemington Permablitz

 

I’m stealing a few hours this morning while the rain dampens our efforts to start putting up some photos of the preparation for our Permablitz. We have been working solidly for several weeks and I have neglected my blog terribly, as we have slowly been swallowed up by a growing mound of clay and so many earth walls to build before Sunday!

Although we are excited by the new design,  nostalgia made us solemn as we ripped up some of our old chook rotation garden beds. A carrot gone wild had started to bloom and I felt sad to deprive our bees of its pillowy blossom.

Since we started our little veggie path in July of last year I have never stopped delighting in the wonders of flowers, roots and leaves that I had never before associated with the produce from the green grocer.

 

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ONE PERSON’S CLAY…

Laura and Tom moving clay at a building site for our Permablitz

Dylan and Tom moving clay for our Permablitz

Dylan, Laura and Tom collecting clay for our Permablitz

Tom and Laura collecting clay for our earth bag garden beds for our Permablitz

Tom and the wheelbarrow at the building site

Dylan and Tom  packing car with clay for our Permablitz

Unloading the clay from the car for our Permablitz, Flemington

Pushing car to have a spot for the clay for our Permablitz, Flemington

Cups of Russian Caravan tea

Pile of clay for our Permablitz, Flemington

The countdown to our Permablitz has begun and we put our new housemates to work not five days before they moved  in, after all manual labour is the building block of a beautiful friendship right?

Sadly, at our house the greater part of our subsoil languishes under a thick layer of bricks, concrete and, on preliminary investigation old rusted metal including the odd bike. The foundation of a  permaculture garden shouldn’t be built upon bought earth. We had to look elsewhere. You don’t have to look far when you are an architect.

After filling a few wheelbarrows of some quite uninspiring clay* we left the building site with Gracie dog in the back of the ute riding high on the mound. (She didn’t find it as amusing as we did.) Then a quick refreshment of Russian Caravan tea and a brief push of the vintage car that has been renting space in our driveway to make way for the mound of clay. Just your average Saturday really.

*Note: uninspiring earth is the best kind of earth for an earth bag garden bed.

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UNUSUAL PETS

Martin and Dylan putting legs on Top Bar hive, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Tom sweeping where the Top Bar Hive will go, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Martin putting bars on Top Bar Hive, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

View of hive from below, bees starting to construct honeycomb, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Martin looking under the Top Bar Hive, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Hankerchiefs blocking the bees' entrance, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Martin releasing the bees, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Worker bee flying off to gather pollen, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Martin explaining the Top Bar Hive to us, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Martin from Top Bar Hives, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Martin explainging how to remove the honeycomb from the Top Bar Hive, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Tom feeling the warmth of the hive, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

Watching the worker bees going off to collect pollen, at the sharehouse Flemington, Australia

The night before the bees arrived Melbourne rejected its first hot spring day with a crack of thunder. The morning spat and grumped as our bees arrived, but Martin, the bee man, said it was a perfect day for the bees to move in. I imagined them made sluggish with cold, they were unwilling to shed their pyjamas and buzz out of bed.

We sat around the table nursing peppermint tea while Martin solemly told us the tale of a man who paid too much attention to his grooming and ended up with a stung nose. But only after lathering on strong smelling gels, face creams and old spice, then sticking his nose into the entry to the hive to get a better look. Even two female clients of his who had long since rejected shampoo and deodorant had been chased back inside when they had tried a strong smelling chamomile soap. My hair was currently fresh from shower and lavendar fresh with a conditioner Ryan had gifted me so I thought it best to keep my nose well out of their business.

Sitting under a tree on its thin little legs, the hive didn’t look like the Winnie the Pooh hive I had in my head, more like a trestle table with a roof. But the beauty of a top bar hive is that it is so unlike a normal hive which involves pillaging the bees’ entire supply of honey and dooming the colony when the frost hits and the cupboard is bare. Commercial beekeepers strip the honey and then feed the bees melted sugar through winter, there’s something that feels so wrong about that. Top bar, Martin told us with the reverence of a man who believes in the good in his product, allows you to harvest the honey one “bar” at a time so you can leave plenty for the bees to drink up when autumn winds blow the last petals from their stems.

Soon he promises we should be able to see the bees forming a chain like little builders forming a living tape measure for other workers to fill with honeycomb. If I build up the nerve to lie under the hive to take a photo. No shampoo or moisturiser that day I think.

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