An Offer of Marriage

New neighbourhood story up on the farm website: An Offer of Marriage. Hope you enjoy it! (This one is almost 100% a True Story - or as true as memory will allow after an interval of about a decade.)

Braamekraal Webstuff Changes

Wiki URLS Have Changed

I've changed the way that URLs are handled in the wiki that handles thefarm website content so that they're more human-readable. This means that some of you (and it seems that I have quite a few regular readers - Thank You!) may have bookmarks in the old style. From my testing these should still work fine, but if they don't, please re-bookmark. Drop me a line if you're stuck...

Blog Changes Soon

In similar vein I am planning to replace the blog software I've been using forever. The old system is just too clunky and ugly to continue using, so I'll be replacing it as soon as I can make time to hack up some nice templates for the new software. The big trouble is all my old content... (Indeed, the poor access to old content is one of thr motivating factors for moving to newer, better software!)

Moving the content from the old system to the new will take a whole lot of time, and I can't seem to find an easy way to automate it. So I may end up losing old comments, and it may take quite some time to move the older posts. In any event, my planbe blog link is highly likely to change...

Advertising? What Do You Think?

I've resisted running ads on the farm website and blog up to now. It is not a commercial site, and I hate the idea of cheapening it. Then, too, I strongly hold the stance that The Whole World Is Not Your Billboard. Not everything is for advertising. Not everything is for sale. (I've been known to remove random real-estate boards from fences in prominent public eye where they're clearly just taking a chance.)

But! Times are (very) tough and money is tight. I'm not sure that the site drives enough traffic to earn even a little bit of money from running ads, but the idea of some small revenue (however minor) is sounding increasingly attractive.

So: I'm asking you - my regular readers and friends - what you think. Pleasecontact me directly or leave a comment. Is it worth risking the integrity of the site? Or am I blowing the risk aspect up too large in my mind? How do you feel about ads on the Braamekraal site and planbe blog?

Snakes Alive

Myah the little doggie alerted us to something mysterious under the carport...

At first we could not see it, but it is snake season, and pretty hot, humid weather, so they're the first thing we generally think of if we don't see anything obvious. A bit of cautious looking about by me - in my bare feet and shorts, so quite careful - and I located the snake under the bushes just behind the carport.

A quick call to my friend next door, Brett, and he popped round with his snake-catching device and bucket. Brett is well known locally as a Snake Guy, and has caught a couple of snakes around our place in the past.

Had the snake been a Boomslang (lit. "Tree Snake") we would probably have just left it alone, since Boomslang are very shy and basically non-aggressive, despite their deadly venom. Puffadders, on the other hand are very aggressive, so not a good idea to leave lurking with the dog around.

I freely confess that I am terrified of snakes. Something in my Lizzard Brain that just freaks out in the presence of a snake. So I'm very grateful to Brett for dealing with the snake for me! He releases them in remote locations where they will thrive, far away from where they're caught, since Puffadders will travel up to 5km back to the place they were.

Still, they're at least more honest about what they're about than some human snakes I've come across.

Rain!

36 mm yesterday. A nice soaking rain, too, and very welcome, seeing as it's the first semi-decent rain we've had in a month.

 Meanwhile the Spelt is ripening nicely, and we should be able to harvest it within a week or so. This year's harvest will all be kept for seed, but hopefully next year... we'll be brewing with Spelt ;-)

Actually, we could also use it for bread. On our last sojourn to Cape Town some weeks ago, we stopped off at a lovely museum cum antiquey-shoppe in that famous tourist trap, Hermanus.  (Actually, if you want to see lots of Southern Right Whales, Hermanus is the place to be. Whales come within mere metres of the seaside cliffs, generally from about May/June until October/November, as it's a safe haven for them to give birth. When we stay with family in Gansbaai they the whales can keep us awake half the night with their noise!)

There we found a grain mill in pretty good nick. After umming about it a bit we bought the thing. In retrospect we got a steal! We paid R270 for it, and the plates look like it has never been used for actual milling! We soon put that right, and have baked a couple of loaves with hand-milled flour. It's not as onerous as I had been led to believe. We've learned that no good comes of trying to mill the Wheat to flour in a single pass; it takes 2 or 3 passes through the mill, sifting out the fine flour in between, to get good flour. That said, it only takes about 3 or 5 minutes to mill sufficient grain (450g) for a loaf, so hardly justifies motorising it or anything. And the flavour of the resulting bread is not to be compared with bread made from factory flour.

Put it all together, it means that, in just a short time, our self-sufficiency efforts seem to have taken a quantum leap forward. All that remains now is to rebuild the Clay Oven!

Plumbing Again

First it was the Header Tank.

The Header Tank lives in the roof of the house, and provides cold water to the kitchen and Geyser by gravity feed. Some gunk had found its way into the ball valve that regulates the water inlet. Oh Joy! An hour spent hacking about in the (cooking hot!) ceiling above the main bedroom, doubled over in the cramped, dark, hot and humid ceiling-space, gammy knee complaining all the while about the weird angles it is forced to whilst supporting the weight of Me, whilst simultaneously trying to avoid putting a foot through the ceiling-panels, dismantling and rebuilding fiddly gunky bits. Did I mention it was hot and foetid up there?

Two days later, upon awakening, I stumbled downstairs, mumbled my way to the kettle to start my accustomed Morning Herb Tea (fresh Yarrow, Rosemary and Spearmint, if you must know!) But... no blue light from the kettle! Ugh. A glance at the microwave clock confirmed: No power. Given current circumstances with the State Owned Electricity Kakistopoly I leapt to the obvious conclusion -- a power outage. But no! For once Eskom were off the hook; our Earth Leakage tripswitch had quite perfectly done its job.

Having some days previous noticed a tiny leak from the house water-pump, I immediately and correctly fingered the culprit. Clearly, some water had found its way into the pump electronics or motor. I had already investigated the various cost options for replacing the motor and/or pressure dome and or other associated bits and pieces. But, judging by the evidence, Herr Murphy's Famous Law had beaten me in our race to A Fix Or Bust.

Upon dismantling the various pressure switches, gauges, inlet, outlets and domes, I discovered that the problems were Multiple. First was the Pressure Dome. For mysterious reasons it fills up with water outsidethe rubber bladder that makes it all work. This is impossible. Actually, there is one way this can logicaly happen, and that's if the bladder has a leak. Then it is Bicycle (Puncture) Repair Man to the rescue. Only sometimes, there is no detectable leak. In which case the water, in defiance of all laws of Classical Physics, is somehow osmosing¹ itself through the very fabric of the rubber bladder. Must be something Quantum.

Easily fixed, at any rate. Take the bladder out of the dome, dry everything out. Replace. Repressurise the dome -- which is what makes the whole pressure-switch system work in the first place -- and we're done. Unfortunately, along the way, I discovered the source of the original -- tiny!very tiny! -- leak. The base-plate of the dome had corroded and developed a pinprick-sized hole. A quick trip into town to the farm-supply place confirmed my most jaded guess: Buying a replacement base-plate is not an option. One is forced to buy an entire new pressure dome (including bladder and base-plate) despite the fact that only one piece is faulty. All Hail the Kakistopoly at work!

Nothing daunted, I returned home and got to work with some epoxy resin, and patched the corrosion. Not for the first time, either.

Along the way of fixing the pump and its associated machinery, I decided to replace a couple of the fittings which were badly corroded. Not too surprising after 14 years, really, but I have to ask, who the hell makes water fitting with Steel instead of Brass? I mean, what were they thinking? Had their brains been surgically removed? Or had they simply never heard of Rust? (The lower-left picture tells the story...)

Put all back together, along with a couple of other minor fixes -- like replacing the electrical cable from the motor to the switch, which the manufacturers decided to supply just exactly 5mm too short to allow the entire structure to be assembled in such a way that makes it impossible for water to leak onto the pump electrics, no matter what. All Hail to the Kakistopoly! This involved dismantling the little box housing the electrics and then searching for some of those little round metal wire-connector goodies, which involved...

You get the idea. It is my belief that any single job, if allowed, is fractally composed of smaller jobs that need doing first, each of which is, in turn composed of yet smaller, but conceptually identical (but different in their details and implementation) jobs,... and so ad infinitum.

Stuck the whole business back together. "Throw the Switch, Igor!"

"Yeth, Marthter!"

Click.

Tripped the damn Earth Leakage again, didn't I?

Choices. Life is full of choices. I could move back to Cape Town, get a well-paid job as a software designer or architect, live in a little flat in Kloof Nek or Bantry Bay, and be able to afford hiring Someone Else to take care of this sort of shit, or... I could spend the next couple of hours dismantling the motor to see whether I can dry it out and make it work again, with no assurance that this will work, nor any experience of doing anything vaguely like it before.

Anyway, a solid tap with the hammer got the motor into pieces, and 10 minutes with a hair-dryer had it all nicely dried out. Would it ever work again?

"Throw the Switch, Igor!"

"Yeth, Marthter!"

Click. Hummmmmmmm...

R1200 -- the cost of a new pump -- saved. And only a morning spent. Until the next time.

---

[1] Is there actually such a word?

Abbreviated Update

A miscellany. Life has had too much happening to have blogged it all in detail. I may get around to telling some of it in more detail, but, like all other Good Intentions, don't hold your breath.

Last week was a trip down to Cape Town to chat with all the microbreweries between here and there, gathering some basic data for a business idea I have. Along the way was a most interesting visit to the SA Barley Breeding Institute! Many thanks to the kind folk there who were so generous with their time!

CT was a bunch of hectic running around sourcing various materials for the brewery, culminating in a get-together with the SouthYeasters Brew Club on Wednesday evening. My good friend Franz kindly gave me several new yeast strains, including a couple of Belgian abbey strains, so I'm looking forward to brewing some Belgian Ales in a little while.

Cut the trip a little short and returned home on Thursday, as the OB Dog was obviously very seriously ill. And I am very glad we did. We spent a last few hours with her on the vet's lawn last Friday. That evening I had to take the very sad decision to let her go... she was suffering from an inoperable liver tumour that was causing her all sort of grievous problems. We're still very sad about losing her... tears come to my eyes at the oddest moments. I've had many special dogs in my life, but none as special as OB. She taught me things about what it is to be a wolf/dog, and also things about what it is to be a human. The truest friend anyone could have had, we were extremely fortunate to know OB -- most people will never experience that privilege!

This week has been a bunch of gardening, still trying to get beds cleared, Tomatoes transplanted, squashes in,... I've left the bloody Fennels too long in the seedtray... endless litany of weeding and clearing.

Culled a couple of roosters on Wednesday morning, only to have someone leave the chicken-house door unsecured that evening, whereupon the Ratel (or maybe a Gennet or a Lynx) got in that night. Rudely awakened at about 10.30 to the squawking and screeching of dying chickens... the bastard took out 2 roosters and 3 hens, which amounts to half the flock. So I got to spend Thursday morning plucking and cleaning Still More Chickens. Too late did I read Hedgewizard's Really Good Idea... Would have saved me a bunch of work, I can tell you! The only consolation is that I was planning to cull those two roosters anyway.

Also started on making another batch of malt. 2kg of Barley soaking, half of which I'll make into ordinary Crystal Malt, the other half will get roasted much longer in an attempt to make something like a Special B Malt in preparation for those Belgian Ales. I'm thinking of brewing a special Belgian style beer to be named for OB. (She was a Belgian Shepherd.)

And the drought goes on. It's even too hot to brew!

RIP OB PhD

OB 1999-2009