Having now invested in a herd share of three cows I am following the raw milk debate with some interest. Mainly because I have zero trust in the government to get these things right. I have a parallel in my current industry where there was a big push on lysteria that would have made it almost economically impossible for a butcher to do their own smallgoods.
Now food standards and various state bodies claim that they are trying to protect the consumer. But regulations like this, that remove production from the small butcher and put it all in the hands of the big factory producers means that soon you will be having maybe five very similar hams and bacons in Australia. The ability of a butcher to be able to make their own ham or salami or kransky gives them a point of difference from the Coles and Woolies of the world. It gives our palates a testing point, to find out what we like in a food.
The thing is, the big producers mission statement would read like this, profit, profit, profit, taste. Our suppliers make cures and premixes that allow the big guys to make more money. Sliceable water was one of the phrases I heard at my last technical conference.
So when I see the big dairy producers in Oz telling me that raw milk is dangerous and that pasteurized cheese is just as good, I get the feeling that they are looking at their mission statement dreading the small producer that might force them to change to taste before profit.
-- Post From My iPhone
PS. One of the twitterati pointed out that if governments were that worried about raw cheese affecting our health, they might remove cigarettes from sale, something that is proven to kill more people than any food product available anywhere.
Showing posts with label permaculture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label permaculture. Show all posts
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
I have the best mates in the world (lantanaland will never be the same again)
I have had mates of mine insisting that they'd come and give me a hand on the farm if I did a big working day. I sort of never thought that people would actually turn up, let alone do the unbelievable amount of work that was achieved over the long weekend.
Before now it would have been useless doing any major work anyway. Clear away a big section of lantana and it just grows back or is replaced with eight foot high grass that needs slashing and mowing which is what I call repetitive useless work.
But the cows, the cows have changed everything. Apart from being beautiful creatures, they are grass eating, lantana bashing, path creating machines. I got them probably a month too early, bashing up a quick paddock held together with old bits of timber with electric fencing draped everywhere. I paid for it too, with the cows showing me all my weak points. I got a bit of knowledge back as well, learning that unless you have good well maintained barbed wire fences the cows will go through it without a single thought. Well maybe one thought, "that grass over there looks quite tasty". Electric fencing though, they show more respect to than a teenage boy dating a shotgun collectors daughter.
So I put the word out that I was going to have a working bee to cut a new paddock and fence it off properly with electric fencing. All I promised was free beer and good food, but I do have a small reputation for decent food so I thought I'd get one or two hungry boys and girls along.
I took the Friday before off to do a bit of preparation. Key amongst the jobs was to kill and pluck one of my eating chickens. Only one of them was big enough but I did the deed with that same sense of pride and melancholy that I get from knowing that I've grown and killed my own food. I also near killed myself getting a trailerload of concrete blend. The trailer was a touch too full and as it hit a bump it locked the wheel against the mudguard and slewed all over the road, dragging the Xtrail with it. It was some extra stress I didn't need.
Still I got most of what I needed prepared, lots of beer wine and champagne, fridge groaning with food, all the fencing equipment. My first guest arrived Friday night and it looked like being a real chilly weekend, at least for QLD. We got up early for some boiled eggs on muffins, something I can never weary of since I got chickens. Nine coffees later (for me, Andy doesn't drink coffee) we got to work.
We started off digging nice deep holes for the big top gate, wide enough for a bobcat or excavator to get through in the future. As more and more people arrived I ran round trying to divide up the jobs. In the end I gave rough instructions and left them too it while I drove in to town and bought all the things I'd forgotten or underestimated the day before. Then I started the cooking. I occasionally wander down and check on the progress and every time I was amazed. They were hacking out an enormous section through lantana, grass, weeds and trees then bashing in star pickets and running good gauge electric fence cable.
Meanwhile I was preparing dinner. Organic dorper lamb from Silverwood went into the camp oven with a crusting of garlic, chilli and rosemary. The free range pork I'd bought was a little more tricky. I carved the ribs off and cut the extra belly off for bacon later. But what the hell was I going to use as a spit. My last spit roast was a disaster thanks to the crappy spit I bought from BBQ galore. In the end the fence was the inspiration. A star picket wrapped in foil gave me a three sided spit and the meat was tied on and skewered through the holes in the post. Once the fire died down a bit it all went on, the ribs went into the oven with a sticky honey, soy and garlic basting, the hearty soup was checked and I was ready to receive hungry, and very thirsty workers.
Most of the fun in doing something like this, for me anyway, is the eating and drinking, the telling of stories (KC scooped the pool with the baby being born in the elevator) and the laughter. There was so much laughing. We got stuck in to all the food and a fair bit of the beer but I crashed out, leaving it to the serious night owls. The food went down brilliantly, all the lamb gone most of the pork and a few requests for the recipe of the brown rice vego dish I did.
The next morning was pancakes, some new workers and a few sore heads. This pancake recipe is so popular I never seem to cook anything else for large groups and it is bloody good. Another three rounds of coffee later and it was off to finish it all up.
Once we got going you could start to see real visible progress. The fence was joined back up to the new gate. The electric fence was redone properly on the top paddock. The cow yard and bale was finished The new fence was tensioned and plastic posts were put in to make sure it was at the right height. Trees were trimmed and grass cleared. I was shocked at how much they'd got done and the sheer physical effort needed to do some of it. It would maybe take me 12 months to do that sort of work, by which time the bit I'd started on would be all grown back.
All in all it looked tip top about two in the afternoon and we opened the gate and shooed the cows in. They got to work straight away. I can't wait to see the results.
So to Dave and Marj my awesome mates who were visiting from Tassie and worked twice as long as they thought they'd be able to stay, Andy and Pia, comedians both, Cobbs, The Big German and Rozy, who didn't want to walk up the hill that last time, Delia and her family, Ed and KC, who had fun giving Ryan a hard time, Neil, such a fantastic father in law, my man Pol, who'd been helping me prepare weekends before, Darryl whose picture is next to 'worker' in the dictionary, Simon and Sarah who have impeccable timing and my darling beautiful wife, thank you a million times. Lantanaland thanks you as well because it is on the way to becoming a productive farm and maybe a cooking school and before now the vision was getting cloudy.
I can see pretty clearly now and it's looking good.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Before now it would have been useless doing any major work anyway. Clear away a big section of lantana and it just grows back or is replaced with eight foot high grass that needs slashing and mowing which is what I call repetitive useless work.
But the cows, the cows have changed everything. Apart from being beautiful creatures, they are grass eating, lantana bashing, path creating machines. I got them probably a month too early, bashing up a quick paddock held together with old bits of timber with electric fencing draped everywhere. I paid for it too, with the cows showing me all my weak points. I got a bit of knowledge back as well, learning that unless you have good well maintained barbed wire fences the cows will go through it without a single thought. Well maybe one thought, "that grass over there looks quite tasty". Electric fencing though, they show more respect to than a teenage boy dating a shotgun collectors daughter.
So I put the word out that I was going to have a working bee to cut a new paddock and fence it off properly with electric fencing. All I promised was free beer and good food, but I do have a small reputation for decent food so I thought I'd get one or two hungry boys and girls along.
I took the Friday before off to do a bit of preparation. Key amongst the jobs was to kill and pluck one of my eating chickens. Only one of them was big enough but I did the deed with that same sense of pride and melancholy that I get from knowing that I've grown and killed my own food. I also near killed myself getting a trailerload of concrete blend. The trailer was a touch too full and as it hit a bump it locked the wheel against the mudguard and slewed all over the road, dragging the Xtrail with it. It was some extra stress I didn't need.
Still I got most of what I needed prepared, lots of beer wine and champagne, fridge groaning with food, all the fencing equipment. My first guest arrived Friday night and it looked like being a real chilly weekend, at least for QLD. We got up early for some boiled eggs on muffins, something I can never weary of since I got chickens. Nine coffees later (for me, Andy doesn't drink coffee) we got to work.
We started off digging nice deep holes for the big top gate, wide enough for a bobcat or excavator to get through in the future. As more and more people arrived I ran round trying to divide up the jobs. In the end I gave rough instructions and left them too it while I drove in to town and bought all the things I'd forgotten or underestimated the day before. Then I started the cooking. I occasionally wander down and check on the progress and every time I was amazed. They were hacking out an enormous section through lantana, grass, weeds and trees then bashing in star pickets and running good gauge electric fence cable.
Meanwhile I was preparing dinner. Organic dorper lamb from Silverwood went into the camp oven with a crusting of garlic, chilli and rosemary. The free range pork I'd bought was a little more tricky. I carved the ribs off and cut the extra belly off for bacon later. But what the hell was I going to use as a spit. My last spit roast was a disaster thanks to the crappy spit I bought from BBQ galore. In the end the fence was the inspiration. A star picket wrapped in foil gave me a three sided spit and the meat was tied on and skewered through the holes in the post. Once the fire died down a bit it all went on, the ribs went into the oven with a sticky honey, soy and garlic basting, the hearty soup was checked and I was ready to receive hungry, and very thirsty workers.
Most of the fun in doing something like this, for me anyway, is the eating and drinking, the telling of stories (KC scooped the pool with the baby being born in the elevator) and the laughter. There was so much laughing. We got stuck in to all the food and a fair bit of the beer but I crashed out, leaving it to the serious night owls. The food went down brilliantly, all the lamb gone most of the pork and a few requests for the recipe of the brown rice vego dish I did.
The next morning was pancakes, some new workers and a few sore heads. This pancake recipe is so popular I never seem to cook anything else for large groups and it is bloody good. Another three rounds of coffee later and it was off to finish it all up.
Once we got going you could start to see real visible progress. The fence was joined back up to the new gate. The electric fence was redone properly on the top paddock. The cow yard and bale was finished The new fence was tensioned and plastic posts were put in to make sure it was at the right height. Trees were trimmed and grass cleared. I was shocked at how much they'd got done and the sheer physical effort needed to do some of it. It would maybe take me 12 months to do that sort of work, by which time the bit I'd started on would be all grown back.
All in all it looked tip top about two in the afternoon and we opened the gate and shooed the cows in. They got to work straight away. I can't wait to see the results.
So to Dave and Marj my awesome mates who were visiting from Tassie and worked twice as long as they thought they'd be able to stay, Andy and Pia, comedians both, Cobbs, The Big German and Rozy, who didn't want to walk up the hill that last time, Delia and her family, Ed and KC, who had fun giving Ryan a hard time, Neil, such a fantastic father in law, my man Pol, who'd been helping me prepare weekends before, Darryl whose picture is next to 'worker' in the dictionary, Simon and Sarah who have impeccable timing and my darling beautiful wife, thank you a million times. Lantanaland thanks you as well because it is on the way to becoming a productive farm and maybe a cooking school and before now the vision was getting cloudy.
I can see pretty clearly now and it's looking good.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Infrastructure
A very lazy weekend rolled by in which the definite highlight was "Prognosis Death", Girlclumsys improv comedy gig. Seriously if you live in Brisbane go and check it out, it is side splittingly funny. However I didn't get anywhere near enough done on an extra pen for the ducks and chooks. The medium chooks and the guinea fowl are outgrowing their super secure digs and they are big enough to go into more mature digs and eventually free range.
This is one of the blessings and curses of Lantanaland. When we came here, there was nothing here, just acres of lantana and a small house. Compare that to the other house we looked at while house shopping. It had an established orchard, stable, chook pen, fences and an easily accessible dam. The down side would have been if I hadn't liked the way any of that stuff was set up, it's a bit of a waste to pull it down. Mind you, chicken mesh and star pickets don't come cheap, which is why today I started my bamboo poles in concrete experiment.
The new run also had a recycled screen door and a chook house made from pallets that work was throwing out. It's not just the chicken runs though. Getting a cow will mean repairing and adding to the run down fence I have before stringing the electric lines up. It all costs money but sitting in the spa watching the misty rain roll in over my new pen I realized, it's also a heap of fun.
Thanks to Pol for helping out today, it's so much easier to do stuff if you have someone to hold the star picket straight or hold the door while you drill.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
This is one of the blessings and curses of Lantanaland. When we came here, there was nothing here, just acres of lantana and a small house. Compare that to the other house we looked at while house shopping. It had an established orchard, stable, chook pen, fences and an easily accessible dam. The down side would have been if I hadn't liked the way any of that stuff was set up, it's a bit of a waste to pull it down. Mind you, chicken mesh and star pickets don't come cheap, which is why today I started my bamboo poles in concrete experiment.
The new run also had a recycled screen door and a chook house made from pallets that work was throwing out. It's not just the chicken runs though. Getting a cow will mean repairing and adding to the run down fence I have before stringing the electric lines up. It all costs money but sitting in the spa watching the misty rain roll in over my new pen I realized, it's also a heap of fun.
Thanks to Pol for helping out today, it's so much easier to do stuff if you have someone to hold the star picket straight or hold the door while you drill.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
By Jove and by Jingo
"By Jove and by Jingo". I have been heard to pontificate, as I clean my monocle and fill my pipe, "I will not have one of those modern contraptions in my house. The wife will just have to boil her milk the way my grandaddy did it and women’s lib be damned."
I refer to a contraption that for ten years I have fought tooth and nail to deny precious bench space to in my kitchen.
The microwave.
I just don't see the need for it. As far as cooking kit goes there is a long, long, long list of stuff I would give the bench space to, but my usually reliable ability to swim against the tide has been worn down by a few factors. The biggest one is we seem to be having a few babies amongst the visitors to Lantanaland, fair enough, we all want to procreate, but the assumption of the traveling baby chef is that the kitchen they will be visiting will have a microwave. That's why the other weekend you would have found me heating some pumpkin mash on a double boiler as well as cooking dinner.
The other spear through my quite reasonable aversion is The Wife. She is convinced that if she could heat her milk for breakfast it would save her a precious ten minutes that could be much better spent daydreaming in the shower or lingering in bed instead of getting to work.
I've never liked the way it cooks food. Mum used to reheat my dinner after I came home from footy and it just tasted.... zapped. I'm sure I'll cave and use it to melt butter or chocolate but if you visit Mother Focaccia and you see a recipe for Lamb Roast in Microwave, get havock and Dr Yobbo to put a swat team together and take me out to a deserted farmhouse with nothing but butter, bacon, fresh eggs, veg, herbs, a fire and a fryypan, tie me to a chair and let Finthart do some severe reeducation.
All round it's been a bad week for my moral indignation. I'd been viewing the whole Twilight phenomenon with mild hypocritical disdain and as I buy all the books, movies and music for Lantanaland I had managed to steer the wife gently away from the books, despite the chorus of women on facebook channeling their inner fifteen year old.
The first breach was a couple of mates coming for a weeks visit of good food and lots of laughs. As a thank you I got a lovely bottle of scotch and The Wife got Twilight. To my dismay she then did an uncanny impression of me with a new Terry Pratchett, ignored me completely and read it cover to cover.
So while shopping in bigW, being the lovestruck fool I am, I saw the second one on special and got that for her. I couldn't get any worse could it. I might as well sell Lantanaland and move to a townhouse in the city. All my ideals are shot. But no. Going to training on the weekend, The Wife, unused to weekend mornings, squinted in the bright sun. I couldn't resist a shot across the bows.
"not turning into a VAMPire are you?"
"you know" she replied, with the look of a fisherman casting into his secret spot where the odds of a bite are 100%, " in Twilight, vampires aren't scared of the daylight, instead they sparkle!"
"They F^#*€NG what?!?"
I wonder if microwaves burn books.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Grumble bloody grumble twilight grumble.
I refer to a contraption that for ten years I have fought tooth and nail to deny precious bench space to in my kitchen.
The microwave.
I just don't see the need for it. As far as cooking kit goes there is a long, long, long list of stuff I would give the bench space to, but my usually reliable ability to swim against the tide has been worn down by a few factors. The biggest one is we seem to be having a few babies amongst the visitors to Lantanaland, fair enough, we all want to procreate, but the assumption of the traveling baby chef is that the kitchen they will be visiting will have a microwave. That's why the other weekend you would have found me heating some pumpkin mash on a double boiler as well as cooking dinner.
The other spear through my quite reasonable aversion is The Wife. She is convinced that if she could heat her milk for breakfast it would save her a precious ten minutes that could be much better spent daydreaming in the shower or lingering in bed instead of getting to work.
I've never liked the way it cooks food. Mum used to reheat my dinner after I came home from footy and it just tasted.... zapped. I'm sure I'll cave and use it to melt butter or chocolate but if you visit Mother Focaccia and you see a recipe for Lamb Roast in Microwave, get havock and Dr Yobbo to put a swat team together and take me out to a deserted farmhouse with nothing but butter, bacon, fresh eggs, veg, herbs, a fire and a fryypan, tie me to a chair and let Finthart do some severe reeducation.
All round it's been a bad week for my moral indignation. I'd been viewing the whole Twilight phenomenon with mild hypocritical disdain and as I buy all the books, movies and music for Lantanaland I had managed to steer the wife gently away from the books, despite the chorus of women on facebook channeling their inner fifteen year old.
The first breach was a couple of mates coming for a weeks visit of good food and lots of laughs. As a thank you I got a lovely bottle of scotch and The Wife got Twilight. To my dismay she then did an uncanny impression of me with a new Terry Pratchett, ignored me completely and read it cover to cover.
So while shopping in bigW, being the lovestruck fool I am, I saw the second one on special and got that for her. I couldn't get any worse could it. I might as well sell Lantanaland and move to a townhouse in the city. All my ideals are shot. But no. Going to training on the weekend, The Wife, unused to weekend mornings, squinted in the bright sun. I couldn't resist a shot across the bows.
"not turning into a VAMPire are you?"
"you know" she replied, with the look of a fisherman casting into his secret spot where the odds of a bite are 100%, " in Twilight, vampires aren't scared of the daylight, instead they sparkle!"
"They F^#*€NG what?!?"
I wonder if microwaves burn books.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Grumble bloody grumble twilight grumble.
Friday, May 29, 2009
I might lose a mate over this.
I've only met Simon Bedak, Esq., cattle baron, the once. He is a great one for spruiking the benefits and flavour of beef! and I agree with him wholeheartedly, I love a hunk of bleeding beef on my plate.
However the move to large animals at Lantanaland is going to start with ........ sheep. There is a reason for this. I can get a few dorper cross lambs for fifty bucks, whereas a nice angus jersey cross will set me back at least $200.
Don't get me wrong, I really want a cow. It will give me an excuse to go do that cheese course I've been lusting over. It will provide me with lots of tasty dairy products and rib fillets.
I've just never kept or had good contact with someone who's kept animals for meat and sheep seem like an easy way to start. Docile and easy animals for docile and clueless beginners if you like.
So unless squire Bedak can convince me, shotgun in hand, that I should go head first and get a cow, soon Lantanaland will have two sheep.
Oh and a happy birthday to one of my mates for yesterday, Kerri-anne. You might have to wait six months for your present Kerri, but I promise, the first few dozen pure white eggs I get are yours.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
However the move to large animals at Lantanaland is going to start with ........ sheep. There is a reason for this. I can get a few dorper cross lambs for fifty bucks, whereas a nice angus jersey cross will set me back at least $200.
Don't get me wrong, I really want a cow. It will give me an excuse to go do that cheese course I've been lusting over. It will provide me with lots of tasty dairy products and rib fillets.
I've just never kept or had good contact with someone who's kept animals for meat and sheep seem like an easy way to start. Docile and easy animals for docile and clueless beginners if you like.
So unless squire Bedak can convince me, shotgun in hand, that I should go head first and get a cow, soon Lantanaland will have two sheep.
Oh and a happy birthday to one of my mates for yesterday, Kerri-anne. You might have to wait six months for your present Kerri, but I promise, the first few dozen pure white eggs I get are yours.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Lantanaland......as a holiday destination.
When we leave Lantanaland it is like a big living animal, all these little bits need feeding and putting away and I like to feel that the land likes having someone around. So one of The Wife mates from work has come down for a few times now and I just love it.
I love the fact that Louisa and Steves kids are getting a taste of the country, getting to know the animals and their habits and taste their food. We are never here, so the kids would see Lantanaland, I hope, as their holiday house, their little slice of paradise that they get to go and visit.
JB talked in his Blunty today about how kids are being denied the joy of the old fashioned backyard and one of the things I really enjoyed as a kid was the few times we got to go and visit a farm and camp or stay. The Wife told me the younger son was very into the animals, he was in charge of feeding and was going down and talking to the ducks. We also returned to a great letter and some hand painted Easter eggs.
Next time that they want to come babysit Lantanaland I'll talk to Louisa and see if they want to do more with the animals, maybe by then I'll have a cow and I could teach the boys to milk!
The postscript to this story - last time they stayed my house pump failed and they had a night with no water, so I'm glad they came back and had an incident free visit.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
I love the fact that Louisa and Steves kids are getting a taste of the country, getting to know the animals and their habits and taste their food. We are never here, so the kids would see Lantanaland, I hope, as their holiday house, their little slice of paradise that they get to go and visit.
JB talked in his Blunty today about how kids are being denied the joy of the old fashioned backyard and one of the things I really enjoyed as a kid was the few times we got to go and visit a farm and camp or stay. The Wife told me the younger son was very into the animals, he was in charge of feeding and was going down and talking to the ducks. We also returned to a great letter and some hand painted Easter eggs.
Next time that they want to come babysit Lantanaland I'll talk to Louisa and see if they want to do more with the animals, maybe by then I'll have a cow and I could teach the boys to milk!
The postscript to this story - last time they stayed my house pump failed and they had a night with no water, so I'm glad they came back and had an incident free visit.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Monday, April 6, 2009
Hippys on trains
Despite the accusations of my inner city urban friends, I try not to be a hippy. I mean I have to drive a thousand Km a week for work, but I turn that to my advantage, I can usually find a supplier of something or another, whether it's chooks or bee hive parts that I drive past on my travels. Saves postage.
If I did work a to and from job, I'd try and catch a train. Lucky I don't then because if I had to rely on QLD rail, I'd soon be out of a job and I'd have to sell Lantanaland.
The Wife tried catching the train to work for a while. She works at the biggest hospital in QLD and we are ten minutes from a station that runs an express train to the city. Yet she had to sit on the floor on the six AM train and it took longer and was more expensive than driving her little Toyota through Brisbane peak hour and walking.
That's if the train comes of course. I follow the local radio station on twitter and the first few hours of the day are clogged with announcements on late, delayed or cancelled trains. I mean it's nice that all the gutters on the Gateway Motorway are gold plated, but perhaps the starving transport dog could have been thrown a bone. More trains? A few circle routes here and there? Trains that actually run?
The inner, buried hippy in me rejoices when I hear mates in Europe tell me they haven't been in a car in six months, but Brisbane, that just wouldn't happen.
If I had to catch a train to work, my inner hippy would soon be headbutted by my inner bogan, keen to get into a car and get to work on time.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
If I did work a to and from job, I'd try and catch a train. Lucky I don't then because if I had to rely on QLD rail, I'd soon be out of a job and I'd have to sell Lantanaland.
The Wife tried catching the train to work for a while. She works at the biggest hospital in QLD and we are ten minutes from a station that runs an express train to the city. Yet she had to sit on the floor on the six AM train and it took longer and was more expensive than driving her little Toyota through Brisbane peak hour and walking.
That's if the train comes of course. I follow the local radio station on twitter and the first few hours of the day are clogged with announcements on late, delayed or cancelled trains. I mean it's nice that all the gutters on the Gateway Motorway are gold plated, but perhaps the starving transport dog could have been thrown a bone. More trains? A few circle routes here and there? Trains that actually run?
The inner, buried hippy in me rejoices when I hear mates in Europe tell me they haven't been in a car in six months, but Brisbane, that just wouldn't happen.
If I had to catch a train to work, my inner hippy would soon be headbutted by my inner bogan, keen to get into a car and get to work on time.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Small Things
I love the big creative things for Lantanaland, I get fired up, get up with the roosters and charge off, full of ideas. However these small jobs, they just damn well accumulate.
Take my snake problem. I really needed to make a small snake proof pen to keep them safe while I totally redesign the main house and pen. All I want to do is pour my energy into that redesign, but I refuse to hatch or buy more Chooks until I know they're safe. So I bit the bullet last weekend and built a snake and fox proof fortress. Admitedly it looks like a roboticic six foot long catipiller crapped out a coccoon.
( while writing this I thought of a sweet idea to solve a design flaw and make it look better. If you've done any rendering or sculpture can you drop me a line on beeso@mac.com ?)
Where was I?
Oh yeah I have heaps of these jobs and if I don't just get them done I am going to have to write something and put it on the fridge. Something I fear and loath.
A job list.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Take my snake problem. I really needed to make a small snake proof pen to keep them safe while I totally redesign the main house and pen. All I want to do is pour my energy into that redesign, but I refuse to hatch or buy more Chooks until I know they're safe. So I bit the bullet last weekend and built a snake and fox proof fortress. Admitedly it looks like a roboticic six foot long catipiller crapped out a coccoon.
( while writing this I thought of a sweet idea to solve a design flaw and make it look better. If you've done any rendering or sculpture can you drop me a line on beeso@mac.com ?)
Where was I?
Oh yeah I have heaps of these jobs and if I don't just get them done I am going to have to write something and put it on the fridge. Something I fear and loath.
A job list.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Design
Lantanaland is many things. It's a rough piece of land, covered in lantana. It has a beautiful, but run down cottage on it, basically with one bedroom. What it needs is some renewal, not renovation, but for this I need to be sure of one thing. Good design.
We've been watching Grand Designs again, which always gets my design juices flowing. Interestingly the host, Kevin McCloud, wrote an article about the different reactions of the brain. Go shopping and buy something and you are pandering to the heroin of the brain, dopamine. Quick fix, short high, need more. But design or build something, plant a veg garden, anything that will provide pleasure over a period of time, produces serotonin, a much longer and pleasurable high. No wonder I like building things.
I digress.
The house here is small and very run down, particularly the deck. But we will need another room if (when) we have The Child, so the plan was to build a small extension, providing a bedroom up top, with a lounge below. The current lounge would be invaded by the kitchen, keen to pursue an old world colonization policy.
But what about the design! This house is very well designed. It doesn't need aircon in SE QLD, as the whole house breathes and catches the breeze. I'd like to build in strawbale, as I love the organic lines and texture. In fact The Wife and I have a great list of ideas, but it time to put together a master plan.
By this I don't mean sketches of how I want the house to look, because I'd rather the architect came up with those first without my influence, but rather the plan of how this building will fit into our life. For instance the kitchen is very important. I would like Lantanaland to one day be the provider of my income and food will play a big part of it. So the kitchen has to be able to look toward the future Lantanaland and anticipate what I might need. In other words how big do I make the walk in larder? Where does the cold room for hanging sides of beef and whole pigs go?
I've already had a lesson in poor design. When we moved here I found the old chook pen was full of white ants and had to be dumped. So we moved and I madly designed a chook house and pen. A chook house that turned out to be a feed trough for fox and snake, hard to access and hard to modify. So lately I've been working on a small changeover system, then I'll pull down this one and start again.
So this is the first of a few open discussions with myself about what needs to be discussed, pondered or put to paper. Feel free to butt in with any thoughts of your own, because I'd hate to miss something because I'm only using my brain alone.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
We've been watching Grand Designs again, which always gets my design juices flowing. Interestingly the host, Kevin McCloud, wrote an article about the different reactions of the brain. Go shopping and buy something and you are pandering to the heroin of the brain, dopamine. Quick fix, short high, need more. But design or build something, plant a veg garden, anything that will provide pleasure over a period of time, produces serotonin, a much longer and pleasurable high. No wonder I like building things.
I digress.
The house here is small and very run down, particularly the deck. But we will need another room if (when) we have The Child, so the plan was to build a small extension, providing a bedroom up top, with a lounge below. The current lounge would be invaded by the kitchen, keen to pursue an old world colonization policy.
But what about the design! This house is very well designed. It doesn't need aircon in SE QLD, as the whole house breathes and catches the breeze. I'd like to build in strawbale, as I love the organic lines and texture. In fact The Wife and I have a great list of ideas, but it time to put together a master plan.
By this I don't mean sketches of how I want the house to look, because I'd rather the architect came up with those first without my influence, but rather the plan of how this building will fit into our life. For instance the kitchen is very important. I would like Lantanaland to one day be the provider of my income and food will play a big part of it. So the kitchen has to be able to look toward the future Lantanaland and anticipate what I might need. In other words how big do I make the walk in larder? Where does the cold room for hanging sides of beef and whole pigs go?
I've already had a lesson in poor design. When we moved here I found the old chook pen was full of white ants and had to be dumped. So we moved and I madly designed a chook house and pen. A chook house that turned out to be a feed trough for fox and snake, hard to access and hard to modify. So lately I've been working on a small changeover system, then I'll pull down this one and start again.
So this is the first of a few open discussions with myself about what needs to be discussed, pondered or put to paper. Feel free to butt in with any thoughts of your own, because I'd hate to miss something because I'm only using my brain alone.
Lantanaland from the iPhone
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