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"I'm not an Orchard Blogger

nor an Orchard Blogger's son

and I'm only Orchard Blogging

till the Orchard Blogger comes"

 

Actually, as far as I am aware, though many generations of our family have worked and lived on this Orchard here in Putley, just outside Ledbury in Herefordshire, none of them has knowingly or otherwise blogged about it.

Jubilee Mug

New Year is always that time for a fresh look forward, following a largely token glance back as the previous one rapidly recedes into faint memory. How did we do last year? What can we learn from it? What could we do differently in 2012, the year of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and the Olympics? I still have my coronation mug up in the cupboard - where will it be in another 60 years I muse?

Well one new thing we are going to do is a Dragon Orchard Blog. Who will read it? How many others are out there? Who is doing them? Does it matter, or as Ford Prefect from The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy would have said, “Does it matter that it matters?”

So here goes ...


One would expect an orchard to be quiet in the first month of the year. Dormant trees [Dormer - to sleep, of course], no leaves, no insects, but when we were out walking with friends yesterday there was a great sound of birds. The Fieldfares make the most noise, a cacophony of very loud chips and squeals as they feed upon fallen apples and the remains of some old pomace left over from the last cider fruit to be pressed. Not really cold enough so far this winter. No real frosts. But this week might redress that balance. However, good weather for fermentation, unlike late 2010/early 2011 when the yeast died off in the cold and many local cider makers muttered many local coloured oaths - Tom Oliver, a maker of fine cider and perry and facilitator of fine music with The Proclaimers - the undisputed champion of the oath of the Lamenting Fermenting.

Noise was also experienced in a Much Marcle Orchard at Hellens Manor a fortnight ago. Here the Big Apple Association held the Wassail of Wassails. A bitterly cold clear starlit night, the stark outline of an ancient perry tree lit by 12 fires, the tree was sprinkled by the Leominster Morris with a libation of cider, an offering of Christmas cake to feed the tree, lodged in a convenient hole in the first fork, dances danced, songs sung, cider drunk, roast pig relished, mummers play savoured and a community coming together to celebrate an age old pagan ceremony as relevant in 2012 as it ever was.

The Wassail FireA Leominster Morris ManThe Wassail ProcessionNorman Wassailing
So Blog begun, orchard coming alive, light increasing. My Granny always said “New Year’s tide a cock’s stride Candlemas an hour wide” referring to the extra daylight to which she so looked forward, especially as, until the Lister generator in the mid fifties, the house was still lit by oil lamps and candles.

Pruning calls, bird feeders need topping up, geese need clean straw, three piglets for slaughter this Friday need ear tags, we all welcome more light.
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