More rain and tasting cider

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It’s been raining again quite heavily. We now have 4 different little streams flowing across our land, where the dams overflow, and the front lawn is under 25mm of water, like a slow moving shallow lake gently flowing across our kitchen vista.

We had 65mm of rain at one point. I thought about what to do for a while and came to the conclusion that it was probably best if I decided to do all those glaze tests that I had been meaning to do for a while. I certainly didn’t want to do any outside work. So I spent a day rolling out slabs and pressing out grid-tiles from my standard plaster grid-tile mould. This ensures that all my test tiles are the same size and shape, so that I can compare them at any time with tests made years before if needed. Tragically, I lost 3,000 glaze tests in the fire, so I’m starting again.

Weighing out glaze tests can be quite boring, especially when it goes on for days. However, it keeps me gainfully employed in the warm and dry pottery studio. I put on a CD while I work. It takes more than the length of a CD to fill one test tile with the infinitesimally small gradations of ingredients in the logical progression of the recipe. Each tile is 8 x 4 squares = 32 weighings and recordings.That’s 288 tests made in this sitting. Enough!

When I was doing my PhD, I did every test in triplicate, so that I could fine them in oxidation, then reduction and also in the wood fired kiln. As each kiln gives its own variation to the test. Having done that very thorough exploration, I’m over it and these days I only make the one series of tests, and fire them  in the kiln that I think will deliver what I’m looking for.

It fills 10 pages of my glaze note book this time around. I have to keep detailed records of what I do and why I’m thinking that it might be a good idea. Sometimes, it takes so long to get the firings done at the temperature that I’m imaging will be best and in the atmosphere that I want, and in the kiln that will give me those ideal conditions, so that If I don’t write everything down in detail, then I can forget what I was thinking and why I went to all the trouble. Hopefully, it will help me to understand both the results and more about myself in a few weeks time, when they are all fired, and I can decode the results! 

Each tiles takes about one hour to complete. After two days of this, I’m pleased to do the last one – for the time being

When there comes a break in the rain, I get out and pick vegetables for dinner. This time is leaks, broccoli, Brussel sprouts and carrots. I’m planning baked veggies with a mustard infused béchamel source for dinner. I make a quick and warming lunch of pasta. I tried to steal the spaghetti from the supermarket, but the female security guard saw me and I couldn’t get pasta!

🙂

We decided to try is years cider with dinner. We made this batch of cider back on the 11th of February and bottled it on the 11th of April. So now it has had 4 months to settle down. It will be good to see how it has turned out.

See my blog post; ‘Autumns rewards,  Posted on 11/04/2025’ 

Janine thought that we should do a vertical tasting of the last 3 vintages. What a good idea! 

As we still have a few bottles of the 2012 vintage. This was the last vintage from the aged 40 year old apple trees in the previous orchard. From 2012 onwards there was a severe drought, so intense that we didn’t get to harvest any apples from 2012 through until the fire in 2019. So no cider was made. In 2015, our friend Val had a good crop of apples on her trees in ‘Lagan’, 2 hours drive, south of here, so she drove up a couple of washing baskets full of her apples. We were able to make a small batch of cider from those apples. We re-planted a new orchard in 2020 with different varieties of apples.

We opened 3 bottles to see and compare the difference. The older 2012 vintage was still very lively with good spritz, but a darker colour from its age, more akin to a beer in colour. It has a medium nose of sultry notes and a good firm cider flavour, just as we are used to. Completely dry on the finish. The 2015 from Val’s apples is medium in colour and flavour, and similar to above.

The 2025 is very pale with floral notes, a delicate palette and a dry finish, however, not very effervescent, because, as it is the first vintage from all the new apple trees in the new orchard, all planted since the fire, and this being the first year that we had a decent crop. I made the decision to cut the amount of sugar added at bottling, to ensure that there wasn’t too much pressure in the bottles. I don’t want to experience any exploding bottles. 

We make a completely ’natural’ cider here from our organic orchard apples. Nothing added at all except yeast. I have always used Moet and Chandon champagne yeast, as it has alway worked well for us. Back in the 70’s, you couldn’t buy cider yeast here in Australia, so i chose champagne yeast, as it is closest to what we wanted to make – a sparkling cider. These days I can buy any number of cider yeasts form the brewers supplies shop, but I stick with what works. 

I always leave the cider in the fermenter for 2 months to make sure that it has completely fermented out all the available sugars and is ‘dry’. Over the past 4 decades, I learnt to add one spoonful of white sugar to each bottle at bottling. This is the standard champagne bottling technique. This is to allow it to re-ferment, just enough to make a sparkling cider. Because these are all new trees and therefore an unknown fruit. I played it safe, and only added half a spoonful of sugar at this first bottling. So this batch has only a gentle spritz, but this is better than too much. 

After this test run, next year I’ll be brave enough to add the full amount of sugar.

I’ve never been brave enough to go with the wild ferment of naturally present yeasts that are on the skins of the fruit. When we had a small vineyard of 100 cabernet and 30 shiraz vines. I tried making one vintage of a macerated, whole bunch ferment. The wild yeast that was dominant on the skins at that time was very vigorous and resulted in a rather unpleasant distasteful wine. I didn’t like it at all and threw the whole lot out. So I lost a whole vintage. it’s nothing to do with money. It’s all about the investment of time and effort, and the expectation that there will be something interesting and delicious at the end, even if the amount is very small. For instance, we only make 30 to 36 bottle of cider each year, just enough to fill one fermenter. It’s enough.

Nothing is perfect, nothing is ever finished and nothing lasts. Good cider doesn’t.

A sense that Spring isn’t far off

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As I gaze out from the kitchen window across to the newly mown orchard with the chickens wandering about scratching and pecking, I can’t help but be overcome, albeit very briefly, with a warm glowing sense of achievement and happiness. What a beautiful sight. It’s a sunny day and everything is looking good. 

It’s still sometimes hard to believe that all this is ours. I’ve somehow forgotten the 5 years of stress, anxiety, blood, stitches and pain. I’m very pleased that it is all over – more or less!  There is the beautiful new pottery shed in all its fire resistant glory, with its sandstock brick facade, re-cycled iron cladding, and fire-fighting spray system on the wall facing West, all newly risen from the ashes like a Phoenix, (yet again) and in the distance, the repaired and partially re-built functional barn. It has all come together now. We are almost finished with the rebuilding work. There will always be more to do, but the list all fits on one page now. In recent memory, it was so long that I didn’t even want to think about it. I was just plodding along day by day, completely focussed, dealing with the most pressing emergency repair/replace/removal jobs.

Isn’t it amazing how a little bit of balmy weather and some flowers can lift your spirits. This past weekend was glorious. We have just come out from 2 weeks of wet and drizzly weather with intermittent torrential down pours. Which filled all the dams, and we are warned of another week of rain coming in the forecasts. Winter is coming to an end and I can sense it in the colour of the grass brightening, greening and starting to regrow. Hence the recent mowing of the orchards. I spent the weekend in the vegetable garden, which was looking somewhat neglected and dowdy. But the sudden appearance of bright sunshine and warm weather made me want to get out there and get stuck into some serious weeding, strimming and composting. Lunch was a bowl of nourishingly warm miso soup and a bowl of silken tofu, served with diced ginger root, garlic, green onion and dressed with a little soy sauce.

I managed to fill 5 or 7  wheelbarrow loads of pulled weeds on Saturday, such a lot of bending and time spent down on my knees trowling, forking and winkling out the more stubborn woody weeds. Although I ached afterwards from the effort, it was so rewarding that I was straight back into it again on Sunday. After mulching the freshly weeded beds, I planted out seeds and some seedlings. Lettuce, rocket, beetroot, fennel, chard, spinach and celery. All things that are cold tolerant and wont mind if the coming cold spell reaches down to zero overnight. The seeds will still germinate in the coming warm weather. 

I won’t be planting out tomatoes for another few weeks, maybe this time next month? and even then I may have to cover them with some clear plastic as a sort of temporary closh for the first few weeks. I do this each spring as a way of getting an early tomato before Xmas. Last year I did the planting and then left for my work in Korea. So I wasn’t home to cover them when the cold snap came and frosted them off. Janine, who had stayed home, dutifully went out to the nursery/garden centre and bought some more punnets to get things going again.

Tomato seeds can be planted into punnets or trays, in a warm sheltered spot in late June or July, or even now, so that they are big enough to replant in mid to late September. Speaking of tomatoes reminds me to mention that although I had written about picking the last of the tomatoes last month. I showed a picture of 3 green tomatoes and a few red ones, well, the red ones tasted great and those 3 green ones did eventually ripen in the kitchen and we cooked them up with our morning eggs for breakfast last week. BUT, Amazingly, while weeding, I found a stray, self-sown, tomato plant that had survived under a dense cover of fennel. So we now have the last ripe tomato picked in Mid August. That has to be a record for us!

The first asparagus spears have started to appear, so our cooked breakfasts will start to take on more variety. We also have a few bright red Flanders poppies starting to flower. There are a multitude of wild, self-sown, poppy plants all through the garden beds. I planted them once, way back in the 70’s, because I like them so much. They are so bright and cheerful. I’m not so keen on the big blousy doubles. I just love the intensity of the single red.

Janine has decided that she doesn’t want the youngberry canes growing where they are anymore. They’ve been there since the 70’s, and have gone a bit feral in recent years. So I have started the process of digging them out and transplanting them over into the vegetable garden, where they will be under permanent netting. Where they are now requires us to build a plastic polypipe hoop structures over them each summer and drape netting over that to keep the birds out. It should be easier to maintain them in there. There was also an issue of rogue seeds falling and germinating in among the cane patch, some of these germinated and grew up into spiky/prickly versions of their former selves. So a total clean out is in order. I’m being very careful to only select the ‘bald’ canes for transplanting. I have chosen to place them right at the end of the bed for easy access and continuing maintenance. I will create a second cane patch at the end of the parallel bed when I get the time. Maybe next week? During the cold days I will be spending more time indoors in the pottery preparing for the next wood firing.

Today the weather has turned cold. The wind has a bitter finger-chilling edge to it.  Suddenly, I have no further interest in getting out there and finishing off the weeding. There is still so much to do out there, but I’m very content with what I got done over that glorious weekend of still, warm sunshine. Promise of the warmer weather to come. Roll on spring.

Pug mills and working with soft clay

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Warning! This post might be very boring! 

Don’t read on unless you want to learn something about clay.

Janine and I have been teaching weekend workshops these last couple of weeks, and all of the preparation that goes into that to make sure that everything runs smoothly keeps us very busy. The whole exercise takes us 5 weeks in total. However, there is still time for other fun things like the garden, chickens and cooking

Over the week in between the two weekend workshops, I re-cycled all the clay from failed and re-cycled practice pieces that had made their way into the clay room to be stiffened up in the plaster basins. I have 5 large plaster tubs sitting in the direct light of the North facing window, this keeps them dry and ready for use, most of the time. Plaster saturates quite quickly if thin slip is poured into them, but they cope very well with soft plastic slumped pots that just need stiffening up. 20 mins on each side on a dry plaster batt, is all they need and it’s well and truely ready to wedge up and use again.

At the end of the workshop, I get everyone to collect all the trimmings, turnings, scraped-off batt bases and thick slurry from their throwing water tub, and pour it all into a tall 20 litre bucket. 8 potters can fill it up pretty quickly. I let it sit and soak for a day or two, to make sure everything is equally softened, I like to get it to a thick and creamy consistency, not unlike Greek yoghurt – with some lumps.

I then transfer it all onto the plaster drying tubs. It takes 3 days to get stiff enough to lift it out and stand it up. This allows more air to circulate around the soft, barely plastic clay, so as to dry it out faster. The plaster basins then need a few days in the sun to dry out again. When we do back to back weekend workshops, the plaster does get saturated and ‘tired’! However, it always recovers with a few days of sunshine.

Once stiff enough, I put it back through the pug mill, extrude it and bag it ready for re-use. It’s easy mindless work. However, I say that in the full knowledge that it is only so if you already know exactly what you are doing and have done a lot of it before. There are so many little signs and issues that you need to know and be aware of to understand about pug mills and recycling clay. The joys and sorrows of owning a pug mill!

The clay can’t be either too soft or too hard, or the mechanism of the pug mill won’t work. A pug mill is in essence, a long tube with an Archimedes spiral inside. This spiral blade pushes the clay through the barrel. Some parts of the spiral at the beginning are removed to make the spiral into a series of spiralled chopping blades. This chops up the clay, mixing both hard and soft parts evenly, then the later, complete spiral section of the auger pushes and compresses the clay out the other end. Some of the better pug mills have a screen or screens half way along the barrel so that the clay is pushed through the mesh and comes out the other side as clay spaghetti. This exposes any trapped air bubbles which are then sucked out of the pug mill barrel by a vacuum pump, before the clay is recompressed and continues along the barrel.

There can’t be any little bone dry edges that have dried out too far. They are rock hard and dry and will clog up the vacuum screens. I have to constantly check when running my fingers through the thick slurry, that there are no small tools, profiles, kidney shapes, or chamois strips left behind by my students. Any of these will grind the exercise to a rapid halt. Requiring the pug mill to be stripped down, dismantled, cleaned, the offending ‘rubbish’ removed, then checked and rebuilt. It’s the best part of a full days job to to a thorough clean out. If it’s only a chamois, sometimes, I can get away with just removing the blocked vacuum screens, cleaning them only and reassembling.  This is still a good hour or so.

In the picture above, the orange vertical plate on the side of the blue pug mill barrel, half way along the barrel is where the vacuum screens are located and can be removed for cleaning. The white lid on top of the barrel is where the vacuum chamber sucks out the air. The vacuum pump is located in a box slung underneath the pug mill trolley, which is on castors for easy manoeuvring. 

So far, I’ve been very diligent in checking all the recycled clay pretty thoroughly, so I haven’t had any ‘accidental’ issues in the last few years. I did discover, quite early on that the new pottery shed, with its north orientated, solar passive design, does get a lot of direct sunlight in onto the clay processing area in mid winter. I’ve learn’t from hard experience that direct sunlight like this can cause the pug mill barrel to heat up and sweat moisture out of the clay on one side, which then condenses and trickles down to the bottom of the barrel. The end result is dry hard clay in one part and slurry in another. The dry, very stiff nuggets of hard clay get forced onto the fine mesh of the vacuum screens and clog it up. The rheological nature of the thin wet slurry in the other part of the barrel doesn’t have the cohesive strength to force the hard clay through. A complete strip down is required. This is a lesson that I learnt the hard way.

Rheology is a very interesting subject in itself. Clay can be either too soft or too hard to stick together and be ‘worked’ or shaped successfully. There are limits called ‘Atterberg’ limits that have been determined, which predict the upper and lower limits of water content in clay. If too wet, it just sloshes around and won’t hold a shape, when too dry, it is just crumbly granules. We need the ‘Goldie Locks’ range for our clays to ‘work’ successfully. For pressure extruding the range is somewhere between 17% and 60%,. That’s such a huge range. See graph. For pugging, it needs to be in a narrower range of 20% to 30%. depending on the inherent plasticity and texture of the clay body. For throwing clay on the potters wheel, it is often closer to 20 to 22%. I have found in practice over the decades that my wrists have their own personal Atterberg limit of around 25% water content or even a little bit softer rather than stiffer. 

Some people say that you should work to your strengths. I think the opposite, I work to my weakest point, and as that is my ancient wrists. I have adjusted my clay body recipes over time to include more very fine plastic particles, slightly more course non-plastics and more fine sand. This combination allows me to make softer clay mixtures that are still easy to pug and easy to throw on the wheel when very soft.  I am limited by what is still available on the market here. So many materials that we used to be able to get have been removed from the market, as the Australian companies that own clay mines were purchased by multinational players who shut them down to force us to buy their imported products.

Luckily, I was trained in the 60’s and 70’s when clay technology was still taught in Art School. I even went on to teach it myself for a few decades. So, I can develop and test my own clay body recipes. A skill soon to be completely lost, as us oldies retire and die out. I can still obtain Australian mined and milled ceramic materials from NSW, Vic and Qld, but the options are constantly diminishing. When I have been shown commercial plastic clay bodies over the years, I have always found them to be far too stiff for my wrists to feel comfortable with. Possibly because of a lifetime of damage due to hard work with my arms, wrists and hands?

So dry lumps of clay on the pug mill screens stops everything in it’s tracks, until the screens are removed and cleaned, and this can be a big job, depending on the maker and model of the pug mill. We are lucky here in Australia to have the ‘Venco’ company, who under the direction and vision of Geoff Hill, manufactured pottery equipment here since the 70’s. His version of  ‘Harry Davis’s, genius design’ of vacuum pug mill was an excellent piece of machinery. The smaller, cheaper, models require that the entire machine be diss-assembled to get to the singular screen. However, the larger, and more expensive models are designed so that the screens are accessible from the outside of the barrel and can be accessed directly for cleaning.

So now I have learnt to keep my pug mills covered with silver insulation foil when not in use, and this has solved the condensation problem. There is always something new to learn, even after 50 years!

Once pugged and bagged, It’s not the end. Good clay that has been well made needs to be nurtured a little. Clay is alive, in the sense that it contains live microbes, or should if you want it to develop the best possible plasticity. We live in the bush here in Balmoral Village. There are few Government services. There is no Town Water Supply available. So we have to collect rain water in dams and water tanks. Water stored in the ground has more bacteria live organisms than Chlorinated and sterilised city water. My clean rain water will allow the naturally present bacteria and other organisms to grow and develop in the clay. This might sound shocking, but it is just natural. Clay ‘ages’ as the organic action develops between the clay mineral particles. The water is drawn closer to the surface of the fragments and the air is slowly excluded and passed to the surface by capillary attraction. In this slow gentle way, clay develops its full plasticity. It is very noticeable after say 3 months. But a year is better! Of course, no-one in their right mind would make clay and then not use it for 3 months! Would they??? Yes muggins does. I have stored and aged porcelain bodies up to 15 years.

There is a distinct difference in the clay after a period of ageing. Clay body made with chlorinated water inhibits the natural growth and ageing, so does not develop the same plasticity.

In the old pottery, there were a lot of eucalypts growing around the building, and consequently there were a lot of gum leaves in the rain water. These made the water a little acid with their tannin. It turns out that tannic water is just about the very best additive that you can put into clay to improve its plasticity. Our gum leaf infused tannic rain water was a pale, transparent grey/brown colour. Some fancy companies that manufacture commercial Porcelain bodies, buy in, at great expense, a product called ’Totannin’, that does much the same thing. Our clay really responds to any time left wrapped in plastic bags, sometimes double bagged, for long term storage. Then stored in a cool dark place and not touched for as long as you can bear it.

Each Friday evening, before the workshops, I bake a loaf of bread and a tart. This time, its beetroot and French goats cheese over a bed of slow cooked onion jam. This has always proved to be a very popular lunch contribution at the workshops. Every one brings something to share for lunch. There is always just a bit more than we need. Everyone eats well and the selection is broad, varied and delicious.

We spent the first day on the wheel, throwing all the forms that we will work with on the following day. I demonstrate each step in the process on each day. 

Teaching a throwing school in winter is always just a little bit of a challenge. The pots don’t want to dry out over night to stiffen up to the point where they can be turned, trimmed, manipulated and handled with ease.. I get the pots to dry faster, by stoking up the slow combustion stove to the max, and keep it going well into the night, to ensure that the pots evaporate off enough of their moisture to be workable. It’s a juggling act, but I manage to muddle through, and at the end of the weekend, everybody gets to take home their finished works.

In the orchard, the early peaches and nectarines are flowering. There is only 3 more weeks to spring, and lots of plants are starting to come back to life, buds are swelling and even the lawn is starting to grown again. This last part isn’t so thrilling though, as this means a few hours of lawn mowing several times a week.

Spring blossom always offers up so much positive energy, the a promise of warmer weather and a bountiful harvest to come.

Nothing is ever finished, Nothing is ever perfect and nothing lasts.

Enjoy the moment.

Wood fired Australian Moon Jars

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I fired my wood fired kiln a week or so ago. It was a very good firing. I’m quite pleased with the results. Of course there were a few 2nds, as there always are, however, on balance. I got a lot of very nice pieces out of the kiln. The clay bodies worked very well and I achieved a lovely red/orange flashing colour on the clay.

So that was very nice to see , and I look forward to developing those clay bodies into the future, as they are exactly what I like about wood fired pots, unglazed outside and fire-flashed. All the domestic pots in this firing were raw glazed. ie. glazed when they were still wet or damp from the potters wheel, and then dried out and fired without a bisque firing. A raw glazed firing starts off very slow and gentle, just like a bisque firing, because it is. Then it ends like a stoneware glaze firing. It saves a lot of energy and work in packing, and unpacking, the kiln twice.

However, only certain glazes can be adapted to work as raw glazes. The recipe needs to contain about 20% of clay or thereabouts. This is required to allow the glaze to shrink onto the pot as it itself shrinks as it dries out. Otherwise the glaze will flake off. There is a particular quality of high clay glazes. They contain a lot of alumina. This means that some glaze chemistries, that require high silica content cannot be made very easily. The are a few work-arounds like adding bentonite instead of kaolin, but there are limits to far you can take this successfully. I’m working on it.

Some of the most interesting pots in the firing were my Australian versions of Korean influenced ‘Moon Jars’. The moon jar is a significant cultural object in Korea. They have been made for centuries for the Royal Family, and more recently are quite sought after in contemporary Korean middle class homes.

Interestingly, the porcelain clay for these ancient cultural masterpieces was mined in a very small village in the central north of what is now South Korea. This is the very same village where I have been going to study and carry out some of my research for the past decade in Korea. I’m honored to have a few of my porcelain pieces on show in the Porcelain Museum on site there. It’s such an inspiring place and the single stone, weathered sericite, porcelain clay is amazing.

Having worked there on a number of occasions now. I can’t help but be inspired by these magnificent objects. I can’t bring myself to make copies of them, it wouldn’t fitting for me, sitting here in Australia, as an Australian, appropriating their finest cultural heritage. And what’s more, probably doing it badly.

But I can’t resist the temptation to have a go at a big round jar influenced by the Korean moon jars. so I made my own Australian version. This series of homages are not made from porcelain, nor are they spherical and white – glowing like the full moon. I have made mine as a different kind of ‘moon’ jar. I threw them in white stoneware, coated them in black slip, and then again in white slip, so that I could do some sgraffito carving through the surface. A technique that I have become fond of in recent years.

During the long, high temperature, wood kiln firing, the combination of ash and the slip coatings combined to turn the surface a lovely green/grey/black/white/brown/orange, depending on where they were placed in the two different chambers for each of the firings. They bear no resemblance to the big, fat, round, glowing, white Korean porcelain full moon jars. These are definitely my own interpretation. They couldn’t possibly be confused as culturally appropriated local copies!

Full Moon jar

Moon shine vine. Decoration by Janine King.

Phases of the moon Jar

Phases of the Moon Jar II

Clouds over the moon

Phases of the moon III

Moon Flower jar

Man on the moon jar.

A very different ‘riff’ on the subject of the Moon Jar

Weekend Throwing Workshop

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We have just completed another weekend workshop. This time on the topic of throwing. Moving on from rock glazes to wheel work. 

I advertised one weekend and filled the next weekend as well. We also have a waiting list for a third weekend, which, if we fill it will need to be at the end of this month on the 23rd/24th, as all other weekends are fully booked.

These images taken by Janine king

We have 12 potters wheels in the pottery now. 3 kick wheels, that no-one except Janine and I know how to use. They are quite simply the best way to make beautiful sensitive pots, in a slow gentle mindful way. But no one seems interested to learn about them. However, we have had 2 students over the past series of workshops that have had a go on them. AND, I believe enjoyed it! They made some beautiful pots on them.

We also have 9 Japanese shimpo electric wheels. Electric wheels are what everybody is used to using. When I did my apprenticeship with a Japanese potter. I had to learn to use the Japanese ‘shimpo’ style wheel. I’d never seen one before. I had to get used to sitting cross-legged on the workshop floor, with the wheel sunken below floor level. It was a difficult thing to learn as a 20 year old who wasn’t used to sitting and working cross-legged. However, I did develop an appreciation of the compact nature of the shimpo wheel design and the quality of the engineering. 

We have one from every series of the shimpo wheels that they have produced, from the 1960’s through to the 2020’s. (RK 1, 2, and 3). One of the older shimpos is a bit worse for wear and difficult to use, so that is my demonstration wheel. That leaves 8 good ones for student use. So we can enrol 8 students in each throwing workshop.

This series of workshops is based on the topic of kitchen wares, baking dishes, mixing bowls and mortars and pestles, etc.

I demonstrated making both round and rectangular baking dishes, by cutting out sections and hand-building the pot back together again in the new ‘squared-off’ shape. The simplest method is to cut a single ‘leaf’ shaped hole in the centre of the dish. I call this the ‘melanoma’ cut. As it’s the cut of choice for skin cancer surgeons when removing melanomas. This is simple, neat and easy, but it creates the greatest stress in the bottom of the dish. This method has given me the most grief with cracking during drying. But it does give you a very elegant, long narrow dish, excellent for baking a whole fish! 

A more successful method, from my experience, is to make two cuts, one on either side of the pot and push the sides in to fill the void. The ‘amphora’, or balanced cut. This creates a lot less stress in the body of the dish, and is therefore less prone to cracking and is more successful. The most successful and least stressful, is simply to squeeze to pot together between two blocks of wood, and then smooth out and flatten to rumpled base inside. All good techniques, worth practising.

Although we start with regular round pots. They must be re-shaped into ovals while still damp and soft enough to rework. Oval and rectangular baking dishes can’t be turned in any normal way on the wheel once they are shaped, so I’ve learnt to trim the foot by hand using a ’sur-form’ blade, readily available from hardware shops. It’s careful use, followed by a light soft spongeing creates a nice, smooth, serviceable finished edge with undercut.

At the end of the day/weekend, all the shelves are groaning under the weight of over 120 kgs of freshly thrown and turned kitchen wares. There are only 3 bags of clay left on the pallet at the end of the second day. Everybody really got stuck in and made the most of the creative, learning and experimental environment. I encourage everyone to push their skill levels and not to feel too precious about any pot. Stay detached emotionally from your work. Feel free to just squash it up if it isn’t going well and make another one. A better one! It’s a much better way to learn. We all have to learn to practice detachment. It’s a learnable skill. Have many goes at the technique, until you get it right. Don’t feel precious, just squash it up and start again, practice makes perfect. And of course, it is of no cost o the student, as I’ll be the one to stiffen up all the slops and failed attempts. Stiffening the slurry of rejects and turnings on plaster batts during the week, re-pugging and re-bagging ready for another life.

I also demonstrated making mixing bowls and mortars and pestles. I like to ‘pull’ a spout into the wall of these pots. It’s very practical, but really enlivens the form and gives them great character.

Everybody is encouraged to bring something to share for lunch each day. We have quite a sumptuous feast, sitting at the big table in the re-arranged gallery room. Good wholesome food, good conversation and great atmosphere. Lunch is concluded, when our resident barista ‘Len’ makes everyone a coffee. Then it’s back to work.

I ask every one to help clean up their mess at the end of each day, and they do a pretty good job, but there is always more clayey smears all over the floor afterwards. The more you look, the more you find. So when it is all over, I give the floor a final spongy mopping over again, cleaning the water bucket regularly to get as much of the clay dust up off the floor as possible. It’s worth the extra effort, as otherwise, clay dust gets everywhere, and is very fine, so we have to take care with all of our OH&S efforts to keep a clean environment for the benefit of the next group of students – and ourselves.

The weather forecast for this last weekend was pretty poor. 35 mm of rain on Sat and 15mm. on Sunday. We got it all and more! With 63 mm in total over the 2 days. One person even got bogged when leaving on Sunday afternoon. I had to dig out the mud from behind the wheels from the hollows that they had sunk in, and shovel in coarse gravel, so as to get sufficient traction to reverse out of the boggy saturated soil, next to the driveway. An intense way to end a great weekend of learning and sharing. Thank you to everyone who came and made it special.

I appreciate being in the presence your positive creative energy.

Nothing is perfect, nothing is ever finished and nothing lasts. Enjoy the moment.

Rock Glaze Workshop

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Last week I was busy making clay for the fast approaching, up-coming weekend workshops. I made half a tonne of special clay body with a bit of extra grit, adding some more ‘tooth’ to the usual reliable body that I make up for us. 

It took me two days. I can make up a quarter of a tonne of clay each day from scratch, pug it twice to ensure even mixing, then re-pugged through the Venco Vacuum pug mill and finally bagged and stacked. Along with sorting materials, weighing out, mixing, pugging and finally cleaning up, I have to have a day off in-between to catch up and to avoid over-doing it. Suddenly a week has gone by, but now it’s all done and ready for the next couple of workshops. We are pretty self reliant in the pottery here. Using our own electricity, our own rain water, using all the machinery and equipment that I have either made, re-purposed or re-built after the fire. I’m fairly proud of this minor achievement of self-sufficiency. 

This week we have been very busy with all sorts of little jobs. We ate the last of our late season tomatoes. Surely this must be the last of the late crop. I’m not expecting the last 3 green toms to ripen very well, so these half dozen little self sown gems will probably be it. And very nice too. We cant expect to see another ripe tomato here until just before Xmas if all goes well with the spring planting for next summer’s crop. This must be some sort of record for us, eating home grown red ripe tomatoes for the garden in the last week of July.

What we are getting a lot of from the garden are cauliflowers, broccoli and Brussels sprouts, all the usual winter fare. last night I harvested the first pick of parsnips for our baked veggie dinner. Cauliflowers, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, parsnips, potato, pumpkin and onion, baked in the oven and then dressed in a cheesy béchamel source. A lovely, warming, winters dinner.

This weeks loaf of rye bread was the usual beauty. All crusty and solid dense rye inside. I use 50% of wheat flour as well so as the get it to rise, as there is very little gluten in rye flour, but it has fantastic flavour. I’m using locally grown and milled organic stone ground flours from the wheat belt of NSW. All grown, harvested and milled on site on the family farm.

This week we also hosted a weekend workshop, but held mid-week, Tuesday to Thursday for a student from FNQ. I had offered a glaze workshop last year, but only got 3 replies, and only one who paid. so it was cancelled. Not enough to make it worthwhile to run it. One potter enquired as to when the next one would be offered. I told her that it wouldn’t. Then she asked how much it would cost for me to do a private one-on-one workshop. She applied for a grant, was successful and so she was here this week. A year later than originally offered.  

I spent Tuesday morning waiting for her to arrive from Queensland sieving wood ashes from the various fires, stoves, burn piles and kiln fireboxes, ready for use in our testing. I still had a little time, before she arrived, so decided to make a wooden pottery tool. At the last throwing workshop, my good friend Len Smith left behind a wooden comb that turned up in the throwing water. I really liked it and had got used to using it. It’s very comfortable in the hand and very useful. I really like it and was sad to have to give it back when Len next visited for the recent wood firing a week or so back. I decided to make one for myself, so I set to it and in half an hour I had one made. Not as good as Len’s, but I think that it is workable. and most importantly, it’s home made onsite from scrap wood. Not as good as the bought one perhaps, but individual, personal and much more meaningful. It still needs a little bit more sanding and finishing, then some vegetable oil, and it’s ready to go.

When my student arrived from the airport, we had lunch and spent the afternoon doing a geology tour of the Southern Highlands, collecting samples and talking geology, analysis and geological maps on the short drives in-between sites. Day two was spent crushing and milling our samples in the morning and then making glaze tests in the afternoon. We finished the weighing out in the late afternoon, having completed 13 test tiles, half for oxidation and half destined for reduction firing. We packed both the electric kiln and small gas kiln with our test tiles before dinner. The solar electric kiln was fired over night used the days stored sunlight energy from our battery, while we fired the small portable gas kiln during the evening into the night, a 3 hour reduction firing from 6 till 9.00PM.

Day three morning was spent unpacking the kilns, debriefing on the results, and then a theory class on glaze technology, choice of materials, Segar Formula and loads of other relevant related glaze topics. We finished on que at lunch time, in time for her return to the airport for her flight home. A fully packed, midweek-weekend, intensive crash course in geology, rock glazes and using collected ‘wild’ local materials. Ashes, gravels, arkose, clays and rocks, all alchemically metamorphosed from road side dirt into shiny glazes. 

Winter Wood Kiln Firing

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It is quiet, eerily quiet. 

The only noise that I can hear is the sound of the ice under my feet crunching as I walk down to the pottery. It is 5.00 am and pitch black this wintery morning. No stars, so there must be a lot of cloud? It’s too early even for the birds to be stirring and beginning to make their first tentative calls.

I love these early starts. The air is very cold and crisp. My noise hurts in the minus degrees air. fortunately there is no wind, so I’m lucky. It could be colder. 

I’m fumbling trying to light a match wearing gloves, but I do it, and the little kindling fire slowly spreads and comes to life. There is a strong draught in the firebox because I had the kiln lit and firing yesterday evening through into the night, preheating all the raw glazed pots, I have to be careful not to heat the kiln too fast, as the raw pots may still have a small amount of water in them that can easily turn to steam, expand and blow the pot up. This would be a disaster, not because I might loose a single pot, but because the explosion would spread shrapnel like fragments and even larger chunks of rubble through out the kiln chamber and bits would land in almost every open bowl-like form. I’d need to stop and unpack the whole kiln and start again.

By staying up last night keeping a small kindling fire going, I had the kiln up to just above 100 degrees centigrade, sufficient to dry all the pots out thoroughly. I preheat into the dark, leave it to sit and sweat while I have dinner and then I’m back down here to keep the fire alive for a few more hours. This gentle start to the firing is very important and can’t be rushed. I’m used to sitting in the dark, all my wood kiln firings start and end in the dark.

The firing goes well, everything is prepared in advance, all the different sizes of wood, from kindling through floor wood onto hob logs, it’s all cut and stacked next to the kiln. I have my tea making gear ready. Thick, warm, long, leather gauntlet gloves, initially to keep my hands warm, but later to stop them getting too warm or even burnt while stoking. A few hours later, Janine and Len arrive, I’m just about ready to go to hobs with the stoking and shortly afterwards to start reduction. Janine cooks breakfast for us, we have bacon and eggs, then toast and marmalade with coffee. A great start to a good firing. I love my home made marmalade!

I stoke the fire box, keeping it full  to the top, and this generates a consistent level of reduction. I initially use some thinner sticks of 75mm up to 100 mm. diameter, stoking every 15 mins, but as the kiln get hotter, I soon move on to the heavier thicker logs of 100 to 150 mm diameter, and eventually up to 200mm diameter. these burn consistently over a longer period, so I only have to stoke every 30 to 45 mins. The biggest and thickest logs can burn for up to 1 hour, keeping a steady reduction atmosphere and a gentle temperature rise. This is kept steady and even for the following 10 hours, while maintaining a pretty clean chimney. Something that I’m proud of. Minimising any smoke and using my afterburner and scrubber on top of the chimney to minimise any PM 2.5 particulates escaping to the environment. 

I have spent the past few years experimenting in new ways to pack and fire this kiln. There are so many variables, but a steady reduction atmosphere is a necessary constant for good clay and glaze colour. I fire for about 14 or so hours. I finish up around 8 pm, but need to hang around for another hour for the burning down process, before closing the damper in the chimney. I will leave the scrubber running for another hour while I go up to the house for a glass of wine to celebrate and a bit of chat. Later, I return to the pottery to check on everything, switch off the scrubber pump and all the lights and lock up. I have to leave the scrubber water pump running for an extra hour or so, to make sure that it doesn’t over heat from the hot air coming up the chimney during cooling. I don’t want to melt the delicate brass spray nozzle. 

A while ago, I made enquiries about getting a stainless steel version of the same fitting, but the guy wanted $250 for it. Extortion! It’s better to replace the brass one every few years at just $10.

Wood firing is such an old fashioned occupation. I love it, not because of its long history, or its hands on haptic rewards, or because it is a way of avoiding the use of fossil fuels, nor its DIY economical kiln structure investment of 2nd hand fire bricks, making it economical, but in essence, it’s simply because of the quality of the pots that I can make by doing it. It is all of the above of course, all rolled into one experience, but it’s the beautiful ash enhanced surface on the pots that keeps me doing all the extra work involved in their creation. 

However, having said that, I’m also really engaged with minimising my carbon foot print, so burning wood that I have grown myself, from my own forest is an achievement. I’m so privileged, not many people can claim that. Wood is a form of stored carbon extracted from the air, which when burnt, returns to the air. A beautiful, virtuous circle. It almost entirely eliminates fossil fuels. However, although I use a solar-electric chain saw to cut up the smaller logs and I split the timber using a solar-electric splitter that I re-built myself from a burnt out petrol model, (re-use, re-cycle, re-purpose.) which runs off our solar PV electricity. I still have a big petrol powered chain saw and I cart the logs on my old 21 year old petrol powered ute, but this is extremely minimal fossil fuel use for a kiln firing. Maybe one day there will be an electric ute? Nothing is perfect, so I’m happy with where I am at the moment. I have attempted to do all this so far on a low budget working in the arts.

Winter is the season for wood firing and also for spending the long evenings cooking in the kitchen. We light the wood fired kitchen stove each evening in the winter, which heats the room, but also heats our hot water from the ‘wet-back’ boiler in behind the firebox, while I am cooking our dinner. Winter is also citrus season. So marmalade making is on the agenda.

Making marmalade is such an old fashioned thing to do. It’s sort of a grandma’s thing really, young people don’t seem to know much about it. but I love the stuff, so I have taught myself to make it reasonably well. Every batch is slightly different as I experiment, trying to learn whatever there is to be learnt. My methods are also different from Janine’s, so we have various jars of different marmalades. I like testing out all the various marmalade making techniques. It’s a real learning curve. Exactly the same as when I’m wood firing. Everything is a bit of an experiment.

I can’t really bring myself to want to do exactly the same thing every time. I love to experiment, trying different ways of packing the kiln, different shelf layouts, experiment with different clay bodies, decorating techniques, choice of timbers and wadding. Everything makes a difference. Before the 2019 fires, the last kiln that I had, was there for 15 years, altered a coupe of times, but in continuous use. I got to know it well, I was able to get some really nice pots out of it. This new kiln is a learning experience. I haven’t had a kiln exactly like this before, so I’m only just getting to know it now after 5 or 6 years.

Packing and firing is a little bit stressful. There is a months work at stake, as the wood kiln is so much bigger than the electric kilns, and all the little changes that I decide to make will have unknown consequences. Hopefully they will lead to something better, but not always. I just have to decide to take the plunge. Wood firing to me is akin to pruning the orchard. That might sound strange, but it has similarities. I’ve been doing both for 50 years and still don’t know exactly what I’m doing with either. There are so many variables that I don’t understand fully, but there is no point in procrastinating. I just make the decision and go for it. 

With pruning, each tree is different. I’ve done it before, but was it right?. I have to get over 60 trees pruned. I don’t have unlimited time, so I have to make decisions, and fast. I decide and then do it. I open the centre to let light in, take off any dead wood, remove all the water shoots and crossed branches, reduce top growth by 2/3 to keep the tree manageable and prune to an outward facing bud. That’s it! It’s simple! But which bud, and at what height, how much to take from the centre, which of the two crossed branches to remove and which to keep? I’m never sure. But I choose and do it. 

The same with packing the kiln. I can think about it for a long time, but still not know if it is the best option or not. So I’ve learnt to just do it and accept the consequences. Occasionally I unpack a bit and re-do it, but not often. I do take photographs as I pack though, so that I will be able to remember what it was that I did, 3 days later, after I unpack and study the results. If it doesn’t turn out how I imagined or hoped, no worries, it was a learning experience. Hopefully there are enough good ones to make it feel like it was all worth it.

Sometimes the pots turn out not at all like I was expecting, so I’m not too thrilled. However, it is a case of not seeing what I was expecting to see. After cleaning, fettling and grinding their bases, I get a better look at them and start to see their good points. They are often quite good, just not what I was anticipating. I end up well pleased with the fresh surface quality and I learn something new. So it’s all good.

Metric Marmalade

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July means that it’s time to get to work in the orchards. There is pruning to do. I usually wait until most of the trees loose their leaves before pruning as a rule, but with such a range of trees in this family orchard of mixed fruits, there are some that have lost their leaves a month ago and others that are still in leaf. 

In a perfect world, I’d treat each tree as an individual and consider its best needs, one by one. 

But this is reality, and I have a lot to do everyday through the seasons. Winter is also wood kiln firing season. I want to fire my wood kiln at least once each month to get through all the pots that I’ve been making since my return from the work that I did in Korea. So the orchard pruning/spraying/fertilising is all compressed into one day, as needs must. I have my friend Andy coming tomorrow to help me do some of the last outstanding jobs to finish off the pottery shed. It needs flashing installed over the windows. Something the shed builders didn’t bother to do. Slack arses! So I’m finally getting around to it 5 years later.

I choose a day at the beginning of July and get stuck in to the orchard jobs. Every tree gets pruned for shape and strength, removing any dead wood, crossed branches and water-shoots, I also open up the centre to let light and air in and allow good ventilation. I prune to an outward pointing bud, and hope for the best. I’m not so interested in maximising the crop of fruit. In fact we have more than enough fruit set each season, as we give a lot away. 

Yesterday during pruning, I noticed that I was pruning off branches from an apple tree with full vigorous growth of leaves still on, and then followed by a peach that was so advanced in its dormancy, that it had bud swell. I really need to give the trees a good saturating spray with lime sulphur before bud burst to suppress mildew, fungus and leaf-curl on the various trees. Lime sulphur spray stinks of rotten egg gas smell, and is best kept off your skin and clothes, so I wear a face shield, hat, rain coat and gloves, just in case.

One of the apples gets white powdery mildew, a couple of the peaches get leaf curl. It’s a mixed bag. After lime sulphur spray, I go around and spread composted chicken manure for its nitrogen, dolomite powder for its mixed, subtle calcium/magnesium content, and some wood ashes for the potassium that encourages healthy fruiting. 

The chickens have the stone-fruit orchard all to them selves everyday to roam and scratch around in. Always finding something interesting to chase and squabble over. They are forever dropping their pooh and enriching the soil as they go about scratching, so a little extra lime every now and then to sweeten the soil is a good plan.

In a few weeks time, I’ll also start the first of the Bordeaux sprays, to suppress the leaf curl fungus, through into spring. Peaches and nectarines are particularly vulnerable to this fungus. Bordeaux spray (copper sulphate mixed with lime) helps to control this. Both Bordeaux and Lime sulphur are registered organic sprays.So I can feel safe using them on our food. However, I like to use the minimum amount, as copper can build up in the soil over time.

Out of the garden and into the kitchen. Winter is also peak season for citrus fruits. We have been making batches of marmalade since the season started back at the beginning of June. This week I have been trying out an old recipe that I got out of Mrs Beaton’s cook book. I have the paperback facsimile edition from the mid seventies. I was encouraged to try it out by my friend Bill who makes lovely marmalade. I occasionally post him a box of Seville oranges and he later returns a jar of his latest batch of marmalade. A good arrangement. 

This year I’m giving one of Mrs Beaton’s recipes a try. There are a few in the book. This is No.2 as recommended by Bill. I doubled the quantities, to make it worthwhile spending the time on it. However. I couldn’t bring myself to use 3 lbs (2.7kgs) of sugar. So I reduced it to 1 kg and added 25 grams of pectin to make up for the reduced sugar. After converting it to metic and doubling all the quantities, it still tastes great!

It’s a good recipe and in this slightly altered form, with much less sugar. I still find it very sweet. I’m glad that I didn’t bother trying it in the original. I wouldn’t have enjoyed eating it at all. Boiling the whole fruit for 2 hrs and letting it sit overnight to cool gives it a very old fashioned sour flavour from the peel that we don’t get by just boiling the peel and juice for a short time.

This recipe gave me 3.5 litres of marmalade = 6 medium sized jars. Worth the effort. We had visitors while I was cooking it up. They all walked into the kitchen and each remarked on how wonderful the smell was as they entered. We were able to give them a large box of mixed citrus to take with them.

Out of the kitchen and onto more pressing practical matters, I made my own new flashing for the pottery shed windows from two sheets of  2440 x 1220 x 0.9mm sheets of galvanised steel, that I cut and folded on the guillotine and pan break, custom fitted for my windows. The lengths of flashing have to be marked and then cut out to perfectly fit into the curves of the corrugated iron sheeting on the walls. In a perfect world. The shed builders should have fitted flashing above the windows before they installed the outer wall sheeting. But they didn’t bother to do anything at all, so the window seals around the edges leaked. But not any more.

Andy and I marked out, hand cut and fitted the curves exactly to match the variations in the mixed 2nd hand gal sheets. A slow, but rewarding job. We couldn’t use a template, as almost every sheet is different across the wall. Until I collected all this mixed corrugated iron roofing fro mall around Sydney and the Highlands. I didn’t realise how many different profiles of corrugated iron there were. I just thought that it was all the same. But every company has their own individual variation of the profile.

We spend a day going around the building and fitting the new flashing above all the openings. We can’t take off all the cladding to do it properly. As it should have been done. So we add the flashing onto the wall sheeting and cut it into the profile and seal it with silicon. It’s quicker, but still takes us all day to do 5 double windows and 3 garage sized roller doors.

Bit by bit I’m getting the shed finished. It’s only taken 6 years to get this job finally complete.

All the flashings acting as mini-awnings above every opening.

Nothing is ever finished, nothing is perfect and nothing lasts.

Winter is here and wood kiln firing

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The winter is well and truely here now. We have passed the solstice. We are getting cracking frosts that turn the paddocks silver/white. Janine harvested the last of the almost red, struggling, self sown, tomatoes just in time before the first of the really heavy frosts reduced the plants to crisp brown stalks. The shrivelled plants and their remaining unripened green tomatoes will be composted – eventually, when the weather warms up a little. The mid-winter garden looks a little bit forlorn, but it is still feeding us really well.

We are continuing to pick the citrus fruits. The later crop of Seville oranges are just starting now, so some serious marmalade making will be taking place in the evenings from now on.

I’ve done the first wood kiln firing since returning from my work in Korea. It worked perfectly, and the results were good, although I’m always hoping for something a little bit better, however, I’m happy with the best pots and there is always a string of new test bodies and glazes developing from my local rocks. The samples are encouraging.

I start the firing in the very early morning, so early that there is no noise at all. At 3.30am it is pitch black and really quiet. No traffic noises from the main road. Every body is in bed. It’s a great time to start that tiny little kindling fire, nurture it and watch it slowly grow and develop into something with a life of its own. The little kindling fire is quite an intense time, you can’t walk away for any reason. You have to turn up prepared to sit and pay attention. I don’t leave to make some breakfast and a cup of tea until I start to stoke the bigger blocks of hard wood. Then there is some time to boil the kettle and make some toast. 

By morning, I’ve progressed to the hobs and my firing friends have turned up, so Janine makes us all a proper hot breakfast, cooked on the pottery wood stove. A special treat of our own chickens eggs and some nitrate-free bacon, followed by coffee, our own marmalade on my home made rye bread toast.

I have put a second water spray in my chimney top scrubber and the coarser droplets can be seen wafting out from the top of the scrubber, illuminated in the morning light. They fall like light rain bringing down PM2.5 carbon particles with them. The rest are collected inside the scrubber gutter and drained down into the soil in the back garden.

After unpacking the kiln, the first thing is the house-keeping, cleaning out the firebox and chamber floor, washing the bricks and kiln shelves with alumina, then finally fettling the work. I can see that the sgraffito work is quite different in the wood kiln. The ash and higher temperatures completely change the look of the work compared to the similar pieces fired with solar electricity in the electric kiln.

As heavy rain is forecast for the next week, I wanted to get a load of kiln fuel, in and under cover, ready for the next firing. I spent a few days winching over and cutting down some of our standing dead trees in the far paddock. They were killed in the 2019 catastrophic bush fires that cleaned us out. There is a lot of re-growth now and the understory is coming back up. I’m not sure about these long-dead, burnt trees. Just how stable they are, or if they are partially rotten inside. Dead wood like this can be unpredictable – therefore dangerous. So I’m taking no chances. I wrap a load-chain around the trunk up as far as I can reach, or if they are very tall, I use a ladder to get the connection point up as high as I can. Felling trees is dangerous, so to make it safer, I climb ladders – which is equally dangerous after you turn 50? or 60? or 70? Climbing ladders to make it safer seems a bit of a contradiction, but who said life was straightforward and easy.

Once the chain is (un)safely connected. I remove the ladder and pay out the chain over to where I have a steel wire winch connected to a substantial tree trunk. I cut out a wedge from the chosen tree in the direction that I expect it to fall, then go to the winch and apply a bit of tension, quite a bit, until I see the tree bend over slightly in the desired direction. Lastly, I put a cut in the back of the trunk, stand aside and watch as it falls over to where it is being pulled by the directional cutting and the pull of the winch.

I has worked perfectly every time so far, except once. When the tree was so rotten inside that the weight of a large side branch took it across in an unexpected direction to one side. As I’m standing well back and a little to one side as it goes. I feel that I’m relatively safe. I have been so far, even when the tree goes off sideways in it’s own way.

With smaller saplings, I just attach the wire rope/load chain to the tractor and pull them over.

The wood is all cut, split and stacked ready for the next firing. My hardwood seems to be getting harder as I get softer? It’s a big effort these days to restock the kiln hob wood pile. 

After it’s all done. I’m blessed with a perfect red sunset. Some shepherd somewhere will be delighted.

Back home from Korea

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I’m back home from my work in Korea. I managed to drop a firebrick on my foot on the 3rd day. I couldn’t wear a shoe after that, as the big toe had swollen up so much, such that I had to wear a plastic ‘flip-flop’ thong to keep working. I went to the local convenience store in the village and bought alcohol disinfectant spray for cleaning the toe, over-sized bandaids, gauze bandage and medical tape. I was amazed that such a tiny village shop had everything that I needed.  
The next day, the local government health clinic was open and my friends took me to the clinic to see the doctor. I needed them to translate for me. The doctor told me that I had kept it very clean and to try and keep it elevated, not to walk on it too much and that if it started to throb or get red. I should come back ASAP. As a precaution, he prescribed and also issued me with 2 different antibiotics, for 3 times a day, enough for 10 days. I don’t like to take any antibiotics if I don’t absolutely need to, but I certainly didn’t want to end up with medical complications while in a foreign country, so I took them.  I didn’t want to risk getting toe-main poisoning and it spreading up my leg to Knee-monia and possibly even dick-theria.The doctor offered me an X-ray, but I assured him that I could still bend the toe. I had to demonstrate that for him, so that he was satisfied. 

My friend got out his credit card to pay, but there was no charge!!!! I’m a foreigner here. I don’t pay taxes here. I should pay for such a terrific service. Korea is an amazing place!

My foot was still swollen, and I was still wearing a plastic flip-flop thong on my foot right up until I left Korea. I even had to attend the official opening of the exhibition in my formal black thong. The nail has since died and come off. I’m so lucky that I have such good friends and that it wasn’t worse.
The garden has grown such a lot while I was away, and badly needs a lot of weeding. Apparently there was a lot of rain and the temperature was quite mild. So plenty of late autumn growth. I got stuck into the weeding straight away, just an hour at a time each day. Weeding always involves such a lot of bending. I’m of an age where this is not so comfortable any more. So I space out my efforts, I didn’t want to over do it. 
The second day, I decided to wear knee pads so that I could get closer to the weeds, to minimise the bending. I also wore light gloves to save my fingers. So I am learning to change my old habits to make living here the way that I have so far, and want to continue to do into the future, a more achievable prospect. This is a really hands-on life style, doing almost everything the old fashioned way, by hand, honouring local gardening lore and organic traditions with green environmental knowhow/theories.  A permanent garden/orchard/vegetable patch, including chickens, all inter-woven and based on sustainable living principals, but with a nod to modern conveniences where necessary, like a cultivator and a mower. 
We can still pick all of our salad lunches and our nightly dinner from the garden each evening, it’s just that the flavours have changed to winter forage now. We have all the usual winter greens, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, beetroot, cabbage, pumpkin and kohlrabi. We cook a lot of vegetable stir fry, tofu, okonomiyaki, Japanese style cabbage pan cake, baked mixed vegetables, and cauliflower au gratin etc. We have also just celebrated the start of the cold winter season with an old fashioned baked dinner. Our first red meat meal since last winter.

  Other than weeding the garden, there is also a lot of mowing, so an hour or so of that each day too. The garden work fills half the day. I’m using the electric ride-on mower for the bigger areas that have become deep in luscious growth. But I also use the electric strimmer for all the edges where the ride on can’t get to. It’s a good feeling to know that all the work is being achieved powered by sunshine these days instead of fossil fuels. Janine fills in the gaps with the electric push mower, to get in under the branches of the fruit trees and other similarly appropriate places for that mower.


We have worked hard at planning and finally becoming a fully solar electric household. We started back in 2007, when the cost of solar panels finally became affordable for us. When I was a teenager, the only solar panels were to be found on space craft and satellites. We’ve come a long way and Australia can be proud of the world famous, ground breaking research into refining solar panel technology done by Professor Green at the University of New South Wales in Sydney. We have slowly increased our solar PV over the years, until now we have 17kW of PV panels and two 15 kWh batteries. Sufficient to charge 2 electric cars, run the house and pottery workshop, Fire our electric kilns and if carefully managed, also selling the excess back to the grid. Although we try to minimise our exports, as we only get paid 5 cents per kWh. It’s better to use it all ourselves. We haven’t paid a power bill since 2007, and spend more money on petrol for things like the chain saw and fire fighting pumps than we do on our Plug-In Hybrid car.
Now that the garden and grounds are back under control, I’m also back in the pottery, making pots again, for the other half of each day, making again is fun and half of my existence. My start back on the potters wheel was delayed by a day, as the pug mill had seized up from being left for too long without use. I had to hand scrape the clay from the barrel nozzle and take out the vacuum screens to remove hardened clay from the mesh.  Quicker and easier than a complete strip down, but still time consuming. It somehow feels like a bit of a waste of time, but any other option is far worse, I’m so grateful to my friends who passed on their old pug mills to me after the fire. You know who you are. Thank You! I’m very grateful to be so lucky to own my very old, re-furbished, Venco pug mills. 

The next day I’m back on the wheel throwing perfectly de-aired and beautifully mixed plastic clay. My old wrists are too worn out to hand wedge all my clay any more. I did manage a lot of hand wedging for the first year back at work here, during lock down. I couldn’t buy a new Venco as they were out of production, and the large 100mm. model is still un-available! I don’t know where I get the energy and enthusiasm to keep on working like this into my older years, other friends and colleagues have retired, but I was determined not to let the 3rd bush fire in 50 years and loss of another pottery workshop stop me. I’m still here and still creating the things that I love. So out of desperation and necessity, I hand wedged my clay to my lasting detriment. My ageing wrists have never really recovered. Even throwing slowly on the kick wheel, causes just a little bit of a twinge, so I have to modify my hand position slightly to cope. We have a few Shimpo electric potters wheels, mostly used for our weekend workshops, that run on our solar power, but I really prefer the old ‘Leach’ treadle style kick wheel for all the smaller domestic pots.

Winter brings on the citrus crop, so we start the season by making 2 batches of marmalade, lemon, lemonade and lime marmalade and then tangelo and navel orange marmalade. The Seville oranges aren’t ready yet. They come on later in the season. They make the very best marmalade.

It’s hard to believe, but today, in winter, at the end of the first week of June, I picked a ripe red tomato. We still have self sown tomato plants flowering. We have had ripe tomatoes in June before. It all depends on the severity of the frosts. At this stage we have had a frost during the week, but because the vegetable garden is fully netted to keep out the birds, that netting seems to just take the edge off the frosts, allowing us to still harvest tomatoes so late in the season.

It’s so good to be home again! We have a quotidian flock of wild wood ducks, that have decided to take up residence on the front lawn, sometimes up to 30 or so of them. They seem to like it here. Plenty of grass to eat and 4 dams to explore. Why wouldn’t they? They were probably all born and raised here over the years. They do pooh all over the lawn, so we have to watch where we step and wipe our feet at lot. We have a shoes-off household, so no problem about the house, but a lot of pooh gets tramped into the pottery workshop when we have weekend workshops and open days.

If this is my biggest problem in life. I’m so, so lucky!

Nothing is perfect, nothing is ever finished, and nothing lasts.