There's lots of things to like about bringing in the hay. It means summer's here, it smells nice, you feel part of an ancient tradition, and you have stock feed for winter. It's also a communal activity, raising the spirits, and best of all, it only happens once a year!

Because by the time you've hefted your hundredth bale onto the trailer, you are weary. And the last bales go on top of the stack in the shed, which is now seven bales high, so much more lifting. Itchy, scratchy and dusty, you head back for the last load when disaster strikes....

I probably don't have to tell you that this is bad, in a lot of different ways, which I won't list here.

So how does one get a tractor back on it's feet? Well, it happens with the help of my orchardist neighbour and his 70 horsepower tractor, a couple of sturdy woven straps, and the cheerful and knowledgeable assistance of my up-the-hill neighbour, who usually wouldn't pass the time of day with me.

What is it about doing something stupid and unusual that brings out the best in people?

Anyway, I'm off down the road to buy some cases of beer for my neighbours....

Leeks are a year-'round affair here at Golden Valley Farm. Even as the last leeks of late winter and early spring are being pulled, I am sowing fresh leek seeds in flats for the following year.

My best leeks last year were sown in September and planted out in the last week of December, and harvested over June and July. As my September sowings in punnets for this year are ready now, it's time to get cracking on the planting.

But as I'm spading up the beds, I feel strangely reluctant in my work.

To plant the leeks, I take the seedlings from the flats and cut the green tops to 20cm, and the roots to about 5cm, then I poke the leeks into holes that have been dibbled 15-17 deep in the moist beds. Dibbling the leeks in this deep means there is a nice blanched stem come harvest -- the white part of the leek is the tenderest and sweetest.

Mulling over the process,  I realise my reluctance. Last year it was the dibbling of the thousand-or-so holes per planting that got me down.  Stooping over for more than an hour, poking holes in the dirt with a stick as a dibbler.....no fun.

There must be a better way.

I suppose I could get a broom handle and put a collar on it about 17 cm from the bottom, then I could push it into the earth as deep as the collar to dibble the hole. Or.....with three rows per bed, what about a three row dibbler?

At this point I get excited and decide to build a three-row leek dibbler entirely of wood (no metal fixings such as nails, screws or staples; no glue). I've always wanted to make something with wooden pegs as fixings.

So in the photo you can see that the middle prong goes through the treadboard and is also the handle of the three-row leek dibbler ("leek trident"?). This handle/prong has two wooden pegs to secure it to the treadboard. The outer prongs have had their tops shaved to fit a slightly smaller hole-size in the treadboard, so they only need one peg on the top.

And here is the trident in action:

As with most innovations on the farm, the leek trident is neither as good as I hoped nor as bad as I feared. It still takes a long time to dibble the thousand holes, and there is a lot of easing the prongs from the soil and scraping of dirt from the prongs; but the trident is far faster than the old stick method, and there is no stooping.

Also, the peg fixings of the trident means there is play in the joins, so she creaks and talks as you work, an unforeseen but happy circumstance.

Then it's time to pull the leek seedlings from the flats and trim them. Here's a handful.

After I've poked a leek into every hole, it's time to water them in. The watering in is best done with a hose and spray gun, so I can be sure a little soil has washed into each hole to cover the roots of the leek seedlings.

I'll probably hoe the leeks twice over the next few months for weed control, before the leaves get too big for the hoe to move between the rows. Then there will be some hand weeding as the year gets colder and darker and the leeks get bigger and sweeter. I'm looking forward to the first leek of the year already!

There's milk coming out our ears. Our two Jerseys and one Dexter are giving around twenty litres a day, more than enough milk for our two families. And that's only from milking once a day, in the morning, and leaving the calves to drink all day.

So this is why people invented cheese! 

Having never made cheese before, I've enjoyed learning the process: warming the milk, adding the cheese bacteria, then later the rennet. Cutting the curds, re-cooking them then draining the whey and pressing the nascent cheese in a cheese press.....oops, I don't have a cheese press...

Half an hour later, with a couple of yogurt buckets, a cordless drill and a few clamps from the shed....Voila!

It ain't pretty, but it sure presses cheese!

After the cheese has matured in the fridge for a week or so, turned regularly, I'm going to pinch some of my wife's beeswax to coat it. Then there's only eight weeks to wait before tasting the first Golden Valley Cheddar. If it's any good I may invest in a proper cheese press...