Back to Basics

I have re-entered a world of solitude, of brutal beauty, of labouring heavily to meet the simplest of needs.

The overwhelming emotion on arriving back on my patch of land on Monday afternoon was relief. I had dreamt up nightmare scenarios of the river bursting its banks and washing my raised beds away, of a fallen mature oak caving in my caravan, or high winds toppling it over. If the weather hadn't ruined things, surely thieves would have found the van and smashed everything up, after taking the 180W solar panel stored inside? 

The caravan was upright and intact, no thieves or rainwater had got in. Even its battery still had power. The raised beds are still raised, though perhaps the paths between are slightly higher from erosion. The fencing around the growing area is still in good condition. The compost loo is as I left it, nestled amongst the blackthorn thicket, and the glass panes for the greenhouse are still stored leaning against it. The ground is mostly wet, the soil become a thick sticky mud in many places, but not worse than I expected.  One or two trees have been blown over on the wooded bank above but none appear to have fallen onto the road.

The winds had ripped off the corrugated iron roof of the makeshift woodshed and torn part of the palette walls off, but the wood is still dry under a tarp I had tucked over it.  The greenhouse frame, despite being tethered to its base with wire, had been warped by the storms. I am hoping I can warp it back into position. Most of my garlic cloves seem to have sprouted but their leafy stems have been eaten, no doubt by hungry pheasants. I don't know if they will continue to grow.  All in all though, it could have been a lot worse.

After a night's rest I had to find drinking water. This meant a cycle to the petrol station shop a mile away. Next up was to ensure the caravan battery wouldn't run out, by wiring the solar panel to it – the green light came on immediately to indicate charging. Water for washing was a matter of filling up the water barrel with buckets from the stream, fixing the water pump attachment to the van, popping the end in the barrel and screwing the taps back on inside.  It worked, though it still has the annoying glitch of it being only the shower tap that causes the water pump to whirr into action and deliver water to all the other taps.

I still hadn't unloaded the car and trailer. Before I could do that the caravan awning had to go up, a dry place to put everything. This was not an easy task for one person. Both it and me got very muddy as I wallowed around trying to get the awning cover to slide into and along the runners that line the edge of the caravan. Somehow I finally succeeded, and then erected the poles inside it that hold it up. A doubled-up dry tarp was laid down inside after levelling the slight slope with a spade, and then – I could unpack! Everything had to be carried 50 metres from the trailer in the parking area to the caravan, as there was no way I was going to repeat last year's ordeal of getting the car stuck in the boggy ground by the van.

So, I'm here. It feels good to be back. The start of the growing season. A new business to be formed, a new life to be forged. The pheasants seem pleased to see me.