Sanglier season

There are days when you are reminded that you are sharing this mountain with more than mere humans.   The cold and snow is bringing the wild boar lower and closer to the houses.   I walked up to the source this morning to have a look at our water supply (flowing nicely all your Manon des Sources fans) and found out just who our neighbours are.

They are grubbing about looking for fungi and anything edible under the soil.   But to get to the grubs you would think they are using a snow plough attached to their snouts.   Destructive grubbing indeed.   This main bit of fossicking is about 60 metres from the house up near the forest.   But we have to be resigned to the fact that they may come into the garden itself.   I shall take a long, lingering look at my perfect potager and accept that it amy be laid waste any night now.

I even closed the gate on my top potager.   I haven’t for a year. Daisy doesn’t seem madly keen on the sharp thorns of the raspberry canes, so I have not bothered. But the thought of losing my asparagus to wild boar just when we get the chance to eat the first spears after a patient three year wait will be heart breaking.

And speaking of Daisy: here is (probably) her handiwork on the pillar next to our front door. I am aware that our wild deer get blamed for every destructive force around the farm. But she really is the only one who can reach this high.

And what have I been up to apart from photographing the traces of wild life?   I have made the first of 2010 pots of jam.   Five pots of mirabelle plums.   I found them in the deep freezer when I was hunting for a pint of milk.   No good having them skulking in there; I held some back for stewed fruit for dessert and the rest will go towards my very first stock pile of sweet treats.

Oh yes, and I am wood treating the potting shed.