Changing Seasons. Spring, part 3

Spring, part 3 “What do you want to do today? Apart from all the usual stuff? But we’re pretty well ahead of ourselves at the moment – we could take a day off,” Marcus asked Annette over their breakfast.
“How about a trip out on the bikes? I’d like to see some more of the places Old Tench has told us about. Especially the other graveyard – we’ve seen the one by the church, but not the one the programme was about.”
“Sounds good to me.” “This is hot! Now that we’ve been – almost farming: we’ve moved past gardening – here for a while, have you any thoughts about what we should focus on? What do you think’s growing well?”
“You’re the specialist! But I think the oranges, the pomelos, the limes, now that we’ve got the irrigation sorted out. And the grapes too. Maybe one day we could think about making wine!”
“Yes, I agree. It’s nice to hear you think the same. We’ll focus on the fruit for sale, and grow other stuff just for us and Old Tench. Kitchen gardening, rather than proper farming for the veg and so on.” “Wow! This place is quite a creation! Old Tench’s description didn’t do it justice.” “And people used to live here?”
“Yes. The seasonal workers on the farms. And the itinerant railway gangs when there was maintenance to do.” Marcus looked in through a window.
“It looks a bit the worse for wear. I don’t think anyone’s lived here in ages.”
“They haven’t,” Annette called back. “Let’s look at the next-door place. Old Tench says that’s really interesting. “I don’t believe it! It looks like a mediaeval blacksmith’s place! But this town was founded in Victorian times. This can’t be original.”
“It’s a copy! Old Tench said that the guy who built it was from Saxony or somewhere like that: his family had been blacksmiths for generations, and he built himself a copy. I guess he was homesick. And back then, a blacksmith here would have been wealthy enough. Old Tench said he thought someone had bought it – about three years back – but this is deserted, isn’t it?” Marcus went and looked inside the barn. The tools and the workbench were dusty and a little rusty, but they did look more recent than he would have expected, given how long Old Tench had been here on his own. Oh well. Marcus shrugged and headed off for their bikes and the ride to the graveyard. “Wow, that statue’s really something!”
“Old Tench did say this was worth a visit too.”
“It’s so neglected. Isn’t somebody supposed to take care of graveyards?”
“Public ones, yes. But Old Tench said this was the company graveyard – real cradle-to-grave care, they promised. There’s been a petition going on for about the last ten years to get it properly tended, but the company’s been holding out. That’s what that TV programme was about – the one Old Tench was so scathing about! I guess it didn’t manage to shame the company into doing anything.”
“That’s a real pity. It wouldn’t cost them much, and it wouldn’t be hard to do. It’s sad how the place has got so run down. Look, there’s even a well to water things…”
“Annette, we couldn’t possibly manage to do anything about this place. We’ve got enough on our plates as it is. Maybe in a few years’ time…”
“I guess you’re right. Come on, we’d better head for home and do some plate-clearing!” “So, if we get the last of these crates scrubbed tonight, they’ll be dry by the time we’ve finished harvesting tomorrow.” Their steady work over the past months was really beginning to show results. Old Tench had found them some old crates, knocked up a few more for them…and now they were almost ready to load the truck and head for market.
“It’ll be fun to see the bright lights of Newborough again!”
They’d been there three times now, selling a few oddments, buying a few oddments, and making contacts. And filling up with gas!
“Do you think we could afford to eat out at a diner?”
“Now that sounds like an amazing idea. We must remember to ask Old Tench if he wants us to pick up anything for him.” “Thanks so much for finding us the crates! Here’s the tools you wanted – and the vegetables are a thank you gift from us.”
“That’s real kind of you. How was that trip to Newboro then?”
“Good. We’ve got a buyer for what we grow, for sure. We’ve got a plan for the farm. We’re going to make a go of this, hopefully. We’re certainly going to try.” They scrounged old bricks from the abandoned factories for the paths, made fences from any wood they could find and dug up all the best soil on the farm and moved it into one large bed.
“If we keep fertilising it, it will get richer,” Annette said confidently. “The plant roots will hold the soil and stop it blowing away.”
“And I’ve got the irrigation system up and running. This used to be a productive farm: we can turn it back into one.”
Once they’d got the farm up and running, they were going to have to think about building some sort of house before the winter, but hey. One problem at a time.


The piled-up railway trucks and containers are by Cyclone Sue at TSR