‘It is I, Ra, the god of the sun.
“Kneel before me as I harness the power of the sun for your showers and… ehm… other stuff. Gaze with wonder upon my extraction of wealth from the sky as you mock non-solar believers in your quest to save a fortune [and show minute-by-minute updates on your phone app to anyone who will listen or are, unfortunately, sitting next to you at the table].”
I think, since I got hooked up to the sun, I might be developing a bit of a complex. I’m sure it will wear off soon. Either that or the wife will permanently kick me outside so I can bring my sun worship elsewhere.
I’m not going to lie – while we got there in the end with our solar panels, it’s been an intense few weeks in the lead-up. With several other big events happening in tandem, I was at maximum stress levels. I just had to put my head down and power through it (see what I did there?).
I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the easiest person to be around during this time. Even my sheepdog was avoiding me, other than stopping by every now and then for a reassuring nuzzle. As usual, it’s my own fault – we’re still, somehow, at calving at the end of May and we’re in the depths of breeding at the same time.
I had to get the cement down, build a shed for the solar batteries, the solar panels installed and a new water tank up, all within a small space of time. I got delayed in getting the cement, which put pressure on the shed-building before the solar guys arrived. It took me three weeks of back-and-forth to line up workers and materials.
The terrible weather was just icing on the cake. I was ready to call the whole thing off.
What nearly broke me was assembling the shed. I’m no novice when it comes to flatback assembly – I have built all kinds of furniture, over the years, with just an Allen key. Plus, I had built a smaller version of the same shed just four years ago.
I was full of confidence going into this endeavour. I should have looked at what some masochist idiot dreamed up as an instructions manual, first. It was like a shed company handed a piece of paper to a toddler and asked them to draw what they think a shed should look like. It was torture – all poorly arranged diagrams with zero detail or written instruction and multiple parts strewn all over the lawn.
To make things more fun, it lashed rain for most of the construction period and our last five cows all decided to calve at the same time.
Anyway, after three days of stopping and starting, it was in good enough shape to get the batteries and inverters put in. Luckily, no one was harmed in the making of this shed and I’m sure my wife will speak to me again sometime next week.
To make things more fun, it lashed rain for most of the construction period and our last five cows all decided to calve at the same time
With all the stress, I was able to find some solace by simply listening to the birds. No, I don’t mean human birds, I mean the feathery kind that have made the farm their home. Maybe a bird would say they are letting us hang out in their home. I don’t know. We’re neighbours or roommates or something.
In the early hours of the morning when you go down for the cows, they are at their loudest. It’s like one big bird jamboree with everyone competing for attention.
I couldn’t be arsed to hang around all day with a pair of binoculars, so I got out my phone and downloaded the Birdwatch Ireland app. It comes with a function where you record a bird noise and it lets you know what the bird is. I thought, “Here we go – David Attenborough, eat your heart out. I’ll have every bird identified in no time.”
Anyway, I get out my phone and, at first, I was getting the birds you might expect – the crows, swallows, blackbirds.
Then, I started picking up loons, eagles and Canadian geese. I wondered for a minute if the farm was much more biodiverse than we could have ever dreamed or hoped, but no, it was more that the app wasn’t great. Still, I had fun for a little while just listening, being in the moment and enjoying the fact that I have my own little eco-sphere in the meadow.
Read more
Desperate Farmhusband: ‘I like to think I’m progressive – but I'm old fashioned'
Desperate Farmhusband: 'I have about 20 cows on the dole; not being milked'
‘It is I, Ra, the god of the sun.
“Kneel before me as I harness the power of the sun for your showers and… ehm… other stuff. Gaze with wonder upon my extraction of wealth from the sky as you mock non-solar believers in your quest to save a fortune [and show minute-by-minute updates on your phone app to anyone who will listen or are, unfortunately, sitting next to you at the table].”
I think, since I got hooked up to the sun, I might be developing a bit of a complex. I’m sure it will wear off soon. Either that or the wife will permanently kick me outside so I can bring my sun worship elsewhere.
I’m not going to lie – while we got there in the end with our solar panels, it’s been an intense few weeks in the lead-up. With several other big events happening in tandem, I was at maximum stress levels. I just had to put my head down and power through it (see what I did there?).
I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the easiest person to be around during this time. Even my sheepdog was avoiding me, other than stopping by every now and then for a reassuring nuzzle. As usual, it’s my own fault – we’re still, somehow, at calving at the end of May and we’re in the depths of breeding at the same time.
I had to get the cement down, build a shed for the solar batteries, the solar panels installed and a new water tank up, all within a small space of time. I got delayed in getting the cement, which put pressure on the shed-building before the solar guys arrived. It took me three weeks of back-and-forth to line up workers and materials.
The terrible weather was just icing on the cake. I was ready to call the whole thing off.
What nearly broke me was assembling the shed. I’m no novice when it comes to flatback assembly – I have built all kinds of furniture, over the years, with just an Allen key. Plus, I had built a smaller version of the same shed just four years ago.
I was full of confidence going into this endeavour. I should have looked at what some masochist idiot dreamed up as an instructions manual, first. It was like a shed company handed a piece of paper to a toddler and asked them to draw what they think a shed should look like. It was torture – all poorly arranged diagrams with zero detail or written instruction and multiple parts strewn all over the lawn.
To make things more fun, it lashed rain for most of the construction period and our last five cows all decided to calve at the same time.
Anyway, after three days of stopping and starting, it was in good enough shape to get the batteries and inverters put in. Luckily, no one was harmed in the making of this shed and I’m sure my wife will speak to me again sometime next week.
To make things more fun, it lashed rain for most of the construction period and our last five cows all decided to calve at the same time
With all the stress, I was able to find some solace by simply listening to the birds. No, I don’t mean human birds, I mean the feathery kind that have made the farm their home. Maybe a bird would say they are letting us hang out in their home. I don’t know. We’re neighbours or roommates or something.
In the early hours of the morning when you go down for the cows, they are at their loudest. It’s like one big bird jamboree with everyone competing for attention.
I couldn’t be arsed to hang around all day with a pair of binoculars, so I got out my phone and downloaded the Birdwatch Ireland app. It comes with a function where you record a bird noise and it lets you know what the bird is. I thought, “Here we go – David Attenborough, eat your heart out. I’ll have every bird identified in no time.”
Anyway, I get out my phone and, at first, I was getting the birds you might expect – the crows, swallows, blackbirds.
Then, I started picking up loons, eagles and Canadian geese. I wondered for a minute if the farm was much more biodiverse than we could have ever dreamed or hoped, but no, it was more that the app wasn’t great. Still, I had fun for a little while just listening, being in the moment and enjoying the fact that I have my own little eco-sphere in the meadow.
Read more
Desperate Farmhusband: ‘I like to think I’m progressive – but I'm old fashioned'
Desperate Farmhusband: 'I have about 20 cows on the dole; not being milked'
SHARING OPTIONS