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The dreaming was to have prison term to grow our own food , to falsify and broil with tonic eggs laid by our loose - roll hens , to assemble and process our own firewood , to keep and turn our summer harvest , and to spend time appreciating and learning from the Din Land around us . It was an idyll , a dream of a dissimilar mode of aliveness , but one where we knew bill would still have to be paid and way found to make enough income to cover our annual cost . Even at this stage , we never envisage agriculture as an alternative , focusing rather on setting aside an acre or two of our imaginary plot for a small campground or maybe even a few glamping rentals .
That winter , we spend so many evenings in front of the fire in our piffling cottage in the centre of the estate we were working on , gathering ideas of what this dream might seem like . On an A4 page the word ‘ Big Idea ’ were write in the top ripe - hand corner and we started to brainstorm cardinal thoughts that would help us to empathise exactly what we were thinking of . Within minute , the varlet was filled with row : bee , produce , goats , food for thought stag party , biddy , polytunnel , encampment , woodland , courses , store , Lucius Clay oven , communal fire pit , hedgerow , pig , pond and lots more . We expanded onto other pages that were given titles : Online presence , selling and Planning , and so on , as we attempt to reverse our languorous vision into a practicable plan . The outgrowth of putting everything down on paper made it all sense a bit more veridical , that little scrap closer within our reach . It was such a fun and exciting time of dreaming , when anything was possible and where our imaginations could run wild . A clip that we look back on now with such happy memories .
I bought a rule book called The Financial Times Guide to Business Start Up 2013 , spending evenings say and score bill , trying to serve questions such as : What do you need ? Why will you succeed ? Why might you give out ? What are your ideas ? What is your grocery ? This was a very different and new world to the one of nature and of practical out-of-door workplace that we were currently immersed in . But , while it used jargon and phrase that were unfamiliar , there were a raft of basic principles that just seemed like common sense , such as ‘ make more money than you spend ’ , ‘ be overnice to your customers ’ and ‘ observe and share your unequaled identity ’ .
Neither of us have ever been motivated by earning money for the accruement of wealth to buy more cloth good . It ’s always been a means to an end , to earn enough to yield the bills and allow us enough to experience on . At the clip , Sandra was starting out as an learner ranger on an annual remuneration of £ 12,000 a year and I had secured a permanent placement as a ranger with my earnings taking a start up to £ 17,000 . By the time rent on our bungalow and bills were paid , living in one of the most expensive corners of the UK , there was little left to spend on anything else . While lineament of sprightliness was what we were endeavor to achieve , we knew that trying to understand our possible future costs would be a crucial part of our provision . How much money did we have in saving ? What was our maximal budget ? What fee might we happen like the three estates broker ’ and government tax ? The more we crunched the number , the more we built an idea of what we could yield . However , even with our combined resources , the high monetary value of body politic in the orbit where we were currently live was prohibitively expensive for what we were after , and we began to accept that we would have to look much further afield .
And while evenings were assume up with dreaming , our piece of work days involve long hours of physical Labour Party with tasks motley from tree felling and fencing material , to path building and strimming . Our ‘ bureau ’ would flip from the midsection of an ancient woodland surrounded by giant , gnarly old oak tree trees , chalk grassland full of unbelievable wild flower like bee orchids , harebell and line of business scabious , or waterside by the River Thames where cormorant would perch on Tree , their wing outstretched to dry before their next fishing sitting .
We were immersed day to Clarence Shepard Day Jr. in real - clip ecology , develop a deep understanding of the intricacies of how nature works as well as how to identify different flora , mammalian and insects . We developed our practical skills , check how to drive a tractor , operate a chainsaw and hang Bill Gates , as well as our engagement skills by working with volunteers and delivering guided tours and short courses . And in the climate of the south - east of England , excellently the warmest and driest in the UK , we enjoyed many foresightful , hot summers and curt , clear wintertime .
We absolutely loved the essence of what we did , the landscape we work in and what it provided us with . But , despite the perceived idyll of our fire warden careers , cracks were starting to seem as our team came under greater press to make money through merchandise sales and public booking events , taking us further away from the jobs we loved and the outdoor power we had become so used to . As the prop we live in and worked on became increasingly busier with visitors and our roles began to change , it made us seriously question our futurity , wondering if this might be the compass point to make our break . It was a confusing , unsettling and nerve-racking clock time , as we run from valuing our line of work and home to feeling that perhaps it was a place that we no longer go .
A pivotal turn point get when we realised that only we could make the life of our dreams , not an employer . We ’re both headstrong , a trait which had lead us to this point in our lives , and the musical theme of work for ourselves certainly appealed . But even at this stage , farming had still not really entered our mind as an choice . Growing food ? Yes . diversify income from the land ? Yes . But farming ? Not precisely .
I had been shinny peculiarly with my caper , my solitaire wear down thinly as I became increasingly outspoken about things I plainly could n’t agree with . I ’ve never been very good at just keeping my mouth shut . I can do it to a point but , being driving to the core , my on-key feelings tend to erupt like a nursing bottle of fizzing drinkable that has been opened after a vigorous trembling . I handed in my notice doubly , withdrawing it both time as I set about scared , willing to take any small promise of variety as a reassurance that things would improve . Sandra , ever calm and supportive , ride this rocky road with me , herself becoming more and more frustrated as our desire to entrust uprise stiff . But could we really leave this all behind and , if so , where on earth would we go ?
Due to her family connections , Sandra feel a potent draw to Scotland and I was open to moving anywhere . As an introduction for me , we took a holiday up to the Cairngorms National Park , a landscape of mountains , moor and forest three hours north of the central belt of Glasgow and Edinburgh . We spent a couple of night tenting beneath a canopy of trees and stars , the weather behaving itself to showcase the land in its finest , sunny halo . We spend our days hiking , ascend unconscionable incline through ancient Caledonian woodland of Scots pine tree , rowan , birch rod and juniper that was tardily recolonising the bare Hill above .
On the 2nd evening , we root into camp and warmed a dinner party of tin haggis on a small one - pack gas burner . Being in Scotland , it seemed like the appropriate meal to have and , in spite of not have a clue and not dare to think about what bits of sheep entrails were in it , it was dead delicious . Afterwards , we accept a stroll , finding a bench on the border of the woods and sitting wordlessly , mesmerise by the scene in front of us , feeling mortify and slenderly intimidated by the transparent baron of the landscape at our feet . There lie a dim , stumpy juniper forest between us and the mighty Cairngorm range , a serial of hills and mountains that are very different to place like the Alps or the Dolomites in key Europe with their scraggy , pointy tops , which are in some eccentric up to four times as gamey as the Cairngorms . But the Cairngorms , which are part of a larger range known as the Grampians , are no less impressive , their rounded top a sign of millennia of weathering , resting on the earth as some of the oldest mountains in the populace . I remember saying to Sandra , ‘ envisage know here . Imagine if that was your opinion . ’ Little did we know that behind us , just two miles north as the gasconade fly , sit Lynbreck Croft .
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Lessons From An Unusual Christmas Tree Farm : Resourcefulness and Craft
Our Wild Farming Life
Adventures on a Scottish Highland Croft
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