Life at the Farm

A year in the orchard — and the place around it.

Blossom & Set

Winter work shows itself in spring.

Pruning is done — every cut made with next year, not just this one, in mind. The orchard comes out of dormancy and, assuming the weather behaves, blossom follows. Dabinett, Browns, Michelin — each variety on its own schedule, none of them consulting us.

From here on, it's largely observation. Walking the rows, watching the forecast, keeping an eye on blossom set and hoping a late frost doesn't undo the lot in a single night.

The bees handle pollination far more efficiently than we ever could. Best not to interfere.

Growth & Management

The fruit sets, then the trees adjust.

The June Drop takes care of thinning — excess fruitlets shed naturally, leaving what the tree can realistically carry. It looks dramatic if you're not used to it. It's entirely normal.

From this point, orchard work is mostly mechanical: mowing, keeping access clear, maintaining the rows, and watching how the crop develops. The aim isn't neatness; it's balance. Grass, insects, birds — all part of a system that tends to work better when it's not over-managed.

There's always something to keep an eye on. Weather, pests, growth, timing. Farming is often just noticing things early enough to matter.

Harvest & Press

Then it turns.

Sugars rise, acids shift, and eventually the fruit is ready — not by calendar, but by condition. You test, you taste, and then you start.

Harvest is straightforward and physical. Fruit picked from the tree, fruit gathered from the ground — all usable, nothing wasted if it's sound. Dabinett for body, Browns for brightness, Michelin bringing balance.

Into the press: milling, pressing, juice running. Simple process, done properly. The barn smells exactly as you'd hope.

It's busy, repetitive, and satisfying. You don't need much encouragement to sleep at the end of it.

Fermentation & Planning

The orchard goes quiet. The work doesn't.

Pruning starts again — shaping trees, managing growth, correcting what last season revealed. Decisions made now won't show themselves fully for years. That's normal.

In the barn, fermentation ticks along at its own pace. No rushing it. We rack, taste, and leave it alone when it's doing what it should.

Some fruit is left in the orchard deliberately — feeding birds through the colder months. You're not farming in isolation, whether you like it or not.

Winter is when you see the place clearly. No leaves, no distractions, no excuses.

Part of the Place

The orchard sits in the Otter Valley, and it doesn't exist separately from it.

In summer, there's the pull of the coast — a quick escape when the day allows. August brings Sidmouth Folk Festival: music, people, and a noticeable lift in the whole area.

Autumn carries on at a different pace. In Ottery St Mary, Tar Barrels mark the season with fire and noise — a reminder that tradition here isn't for show.

Through it all, the orchard keeps its own rhythm. Blossom, growth, harvest, rest.

Visitors see a moment of it. The cider carries the whole year — Dabinett for depth, Browns for brightness, Michelin for balance.

What We Grow

We grow a small number of traditional cider varieties, each contributing something different:

Together, they produce cider with structure and character — not just something that tastes vaguely of apples.

Want to Know More?

Read about how we came to be here and what drives our work.