Previous month:
July 2017
Next month:
September 2017

August 2017

one from the show...

'Tis local show season, and all around us local villages are having their annual shows. Its my idea of heaven  - from the ponies and horses classes, to the not that official dog show, to the 'best of show' veggies and jams in the big white tent. wasps hanging around the scones, and billion cupcakes for sale with overly bright icing. I love all of it. Quintessentially British, the very cherry on the top of the end of summer.  

Unfortunately for my other half, now we have land a plenty and live somewhere where almost every animal at the show was for sale... he's pretty relieved we don't have a trailer yet so I can't bring home everything!! ;) 


pink and the moon


Its been a long day. We often begin with an idea of errands or jobs we will achieve in the day. And we also always say; there is no rush we are here forever. Buuuuut... once you get started one chore easily leads to another.  After the animals, and errands done first thing, the girls and I headed off to a summer fair in the mountains. A little while there and we came home to find the husband busy setting fire to things burning all the garden rubbish we have accumulated since clearing fifteen years of overgrown gardens. Never one to be comfortable sitting down when others are working, I began to work too. Clearing the hedge clippings, filling the troughs, and finally unable to put it off any longer, creosoting the gates. 

Creosote is not like creosote anymore... dark sticky hideous oily stuff, now its a lot like paint and comes in many many shades. Trying hard not to appear too alternative and townie I did stick to a shade of brown.  Brown is not attractive and as I was painting on what turned out to be a sort of ginger poop colour {exactly a ginger poop colour to be honest} I confess I wish I had picked blue or something.   Ah well... everyone has brown. just trying to fit in... Tho, the local farmers have already written me off as 'not a farmer' and no doubt 'a little bit crazy' so I really should have gone with blue.

It was while painting the poop colour on the gates, and counting down to being able to finally sit down, that I became aware of the goats crying. 
(You might think goats bleat, but I can assure you if in distress they really sound much more like they are crying) Sometimes when they hear our voices they do cry out, pleading for our attention, so I ignored them for a few minutes hoping they would go back to eating and I could carry on painting poop creosote everywhere. 
They didn't, and so I sent Daisy to see what was up. she was about ten paces away from me before she yelled the goats were in trouble. 
Goats do not get in trouble by halves. This was a drop paint brush moment and race up the track to their field.  
Cue one goat the other side of a four foot thick hedge -and therefore also the other side of a stock and barbed wire fence.  The other goat, desperately upset to be parted from both the people and his companion had tried to follow and got stuck in the very prickly hawthorn hedge. 

To cut a long and sweaty story short, both goats are fine, one has at the tiniest cut on his heel  (- how he is not sliced apart from barbed wire and a hedge of thorns I do not know, luck of the goat as usual) But Daisy and I are scratched, cut, stung by nettles, bruised by squeezing into the tiniest prickliest gaps- and an awful lot of fencing wood is now rammed in a gap that isn't really a gap to start with.  An hour of fence patching, hauling great big wooden gates into the hedge to attempt to stop them doing this again, some goat first aid and swearing and I am shattered. The most disheartening part being until the fence is replaced by the fencing man, no patching I ever do will hold a curious goat.  Several acres of field, hazel, banks, trees, shelter, food and water - no thanks we'd rather get hurt attempting to go next door, and eat that identical hedge.   Times like this I rue the day I ever got goats, and Daisy tells them she doesn't like them anymore.  We don't mean it, we love them to bits, but goat drama makes you very weary indeed.  One hot hot shower later and I am a bit less cross. Still picking thorns from my arm and random hedge bits from my hair, but yes, less cross. ;)  I don't think there will ever be a quiet dull day around here...

stop. go ride your horse.

Sometimes the bigger picture is a bit overwhelming. Here I am in this beautiful place, in an almost perfect actually quite wonky but loveable house, and I have a billion things I want to do, a thousands things I ought to do and a really long list of what I need to do.  I am not very good at this slow down your lifestyle things. I am trying. But I want to finish the woodland clearing, I want to design the kitchen garden, I need to paint the fence, I have to stain the wooden gates, I can't wait to paint the rooms, I need to start finish the veggie patch and I am still trying to unpack these last few damn boxes.... 

SO in an effort to try to stop doing everything in 24 hours, I am happily riding the Puzzle pony out and about the lanes, with one of the girls on Vincent-the-cheeky .  The views are blowing our minds - grateful our ponies will happily carry on whilst we ride with one hand on the reins and one hand pointing at various landmarks and distant mountains.  Pretty funny watching the pony's face as he sees the lane literally rise up before him like a, well, mountain (hahah!) and then drop away the other side. I give thanks daily for the nonslip road nails in the horse's shoes and remind myself that little and often on these hills will make at least one of us fit.  Plus we are perfecting the art of picking giant hedgerow blackberries from horseback  {not as easy as you think} and convincing Puzz that the sheep are fairly safe creatures he can go by. There is a lot of sheep he has to go past, funnily enough, so I figure he will be sheep proof soon! 


We've met a few more neighbours, I have land envy - one of them has 600 acres. Six hundred. Does he need all six hundred? Can I have some? Six hundred!!! I am so in awe....  He's a really nice, funny guy and now stops the tractor mid field to chat to husband and I if he sees us. He has a neighbour who has goats I can have, apparently. Oh, and do I want some kittens. (LOVE living here ;) ) Told him its fine I'll re-home pretty much any animal. He warned me that was careless talk around farmers ;)  I refused the kittens however, we have a busy road alongside part of our land and I am not losing a cat to traffic accidents again.  
Sheep are arriving soon, not mine I hasten to add; his, they will live in the fields next door to us. Looking forward to introducing them to totally batty goats, a barking vizsla, and ponies who snort at them. Yeah, that will be so fun....!

In amongst  the weird shopping - trust me, move somewhere more rural than before and you find you have the craziest shopping list - ladders, lightbulbs, equipment to make the wifi go thro 200 year old barn walls, horse feed, fence posts, industrial hosepipes, yet another part for the quad to pull along, etc etc, - we have managed to do the school uniform shopping. I forget every year how rubbish that is to actually do, so tedious. Decided anything I have forgotten I am just ordering online, cannot bear one more giant store trip in such of sizes they sold in July. (Yes, I should be the July shopper but honestly... I never will be)  

The best bit about venturing to nearby town in search of such stuff is not only the view on the way - mountains behind all views, even the supermarkets. I am the only idiot stood gawping in the car park I think... and of course thencoming home! Welly boots straight back on and out to do something outside. All pressures and stresses forgotten.  Just these crazy clouds to watch.