A normal day..... !!!!

So, it was a normal Saturday. The children got ready for school (Saturday school and sport matches being the norm for us...) The 12yo had a singing exam in a far off place, a mere 50 miles from home after dropping the 10yo to school, so off we went.

Exam went well (fingers crossed for good results) and by 1pm we Archers were all back home.

After a snatched lunch in the baking sun, it was time to see to the sheep. We rounded them up, stuffed them in the stables and brought them out, one by one, to a makeshift race where we each had a job: There were ear tags to clip in, worming injection to administer, feet to check and a spray paint brand to be given to the lambs who would stay on farm as breeding ewes.

It didn't all go to plan; two lambs escaped in the process but were eventually caught and sorted.

By 8pm family Archer had showered, (absolute necessity, in fact; thinking of burning the jeans I had been wearing!!!!) and were sat in the garden, surrounded by cats and chickens, consuming a take-out Chinese.

By 9pm my back insisted I go and lie down and so we all piled into our bed. I conked out, no doubt snoring over Harry Potter film, but all family members seemed quite happy.

This morning a cat, Tabby, woke me at 4.30am... Being as I'd slept from 9pm (a mere 7.5 hours) I was ok about this and duly followed him downstairs to give him biscuits and make myself a coffee. Turns out he was actually telling me (Lassie-style) that the sheep flock was in the garden eating my flaars!

In pjs and wellies I set about rounding up 30 sheep from the garden who had discovered that self-seeded rocket was delicious! Tabby looked on, not interested in auditioning as a sheep dog.

And now I am sat, coffee in hand, so many jobs to do: cleaning, ironing, washing, plant those blasted tumbling toms into the hanging baskets, check on the soon-to-be-mums in the alpaca fields, pack Poo for customers, water garden, pick strawberries before the blackbirds do, mend fence where sheep keep getting through, wash floors and bathrooms, finish a business plan, sort lunch for Grandma visit..... So many jobs, that I can't do any of them.

So I'll just sit awhile and watch the flowers grow.

My family of animals...

Yesterday's weather was ridiculous, (I'm talking to YOU God!) Driving to collect the 9yo from school, (a 28 mile round-trip!) was like being a part of a disaster movie: Trees down, power lines dangerously low over the road, school without power. 'Nuff said! We move on, thankful that we live up a mountain and desperately sorry for those who are living in Waterworld.

This morning we have been treated to a chef's tasting menu of weather. The journey back to school this morning wasn't quite so treacherous, though the power lines near school were still a'dangling. Fortunately the wind had decreased from its 100mph racing and I dropped boy off (girl was already boarding) wishing him luck with speech and drama, guitar, singing, drums and the dreaded/eagerly anticipated Valentine Disco.

I would say more about the Valentine Disco but fear that this may have family repercussions.... I'll write something in my secret book and store for a later time. #briberyandblackmail.

Home again and the chickens looked well this morning as I put out their layers pellets. They are producing eggs daily now, happily using hubby's extension to the main coop as the nest box of choice. We call this space the bungalow, not sure why really. As this is the popular spot for laying, the girls queue outside the entrance on the conifer stump steps. They wait in an almost orderly, if slightly chatty/naggy, line, berating the current sitter for slowness. It's hilarious. At least I can find the eggs this week!

Next I went to feed the sheep. Oreo, her of black head, is a nightmare. She thinks she's a dog and bounds towards you, jumping up with the filthiest of feet.

Ewe nuts and a nutty ewe (well, yearling)

As if the jumping up wasn't bad enough, her hooves really hurt! This is the issue with raising cade lambs; they are sweet and loving as babies and you can carry them about. As they grow they still see you as Mummy. There's no way I could lift any of them nowadays!

 

 

I could only see 6 sheep until I heard a sad baaaa-ing. Cocoa was stuck in the hedge, bramble briers locked around her stomach. This is a really good reason why you should check animals daily. Fortunately I was wearing gloves and after a few minutes of pulling and tugging, with this yearling looking at me gratefully, I was able to pull her free to join the gang.

 

As you can see from the picture above, there was belting sunshine while I dealt with the sheep but two minutes later, with the alpaca, there was a mini snow-storm!

 

Here's Connie, the most intelligent and greedy of our girls!

Then there's Darcy, beautifully bred but also greedy!

 

We've come to an understanding, Connie, Darcy and I;
these girls are fed within hurdles to allow everyone else the opportunity
to chew their food more thoroughly, more peacefully!



LtoR: Baby Caramel, Shadow, Annabel and Bracken

 

 Gorgeous Fudge with her mummy, Darcy, behind.

 

An hour or so later, the snow departed and the sun came back. I popped out to the greenhouse and opened the door and windows, it was like a sauna in there! Roll on spring, I'm so confused.

 

If ever one needed proof of the ability of alpaca to guard chickens or sheep with young lambs, I had it today. Tabby, the chunkier of our two cats, came through the alpaca field on a mission to reach the front door and avoid the snow storm. The cats are usually wise to the alpaca, who seem to regard them, and any dogs, as foxes or wolves. They charge them, seeing them off swiftly.

 

Tabby was ill advised to take the short cut through the girls' field this morning. Good job he's a fast runner!

 

 [If you are reading this on an iPad or if you cannot see the photos, please click the title of the post to be magically transported to my blog where all may be revealed.

 

Also, if you have the time to comment on my blog, I'd love to hear from you. Lou x]



Vlog: Feeding the animals

Thanks to the joys of technology it is highly unlikely that this Vlog will appear in your email. If you cannot see the video I've posted, please click the blue title of this post to be magically transported to my blog online. Go on, go on,... if you don't you'll miss me looking gorgeous at 6am (!!!!!) feeding the animals and the new lamb... ahhhhhh...

All comments online gratefully received... except the ones suggesting I lose weight and wear more make-up/a paper bag.

Lou

xx

Tea Leaves....

Hmmmmm... Lou at Larches is a teensy-weensy bit cross...

The Larches barns are filled with accumulated clutter. Some items are required and some items really need a new home or depositing at the dump.... Oh, ‘scuse me, it's not called the dump anymore is it? It's the recycling centre or, worse still, the sustainability centre!!?? .....Anyhoo back to the point of this ramble...

I was rooting about in the barns, climbing over the sproglets’ bikes, the builders' stash and the leftover rabbit entrails kindly discarded by the cats, when I came upon a particularly nice example of twentieth century design; an MFI cabinet in that delicious wood effect veneer with sliding glass doors, c. 1970. Lov-erly.

Knowing full well what the local auction house would think of my latest piece of period furniture... [...our Ikea phase has recently been disposed of in this manner and I’m fairly sure that the auctioneer did a 'smell' face when he saw it. Subsequently it took several sales before a gullible discerning bidder was found.] I decided against this route this time.

Eureka! Thought I, bearing in mind that I am now top totty authority (numero 24 y’know) on Gardening matters, according to ebuzzing The Global Platform for Social Media Advertising. Oh yeah...

I thought, I know, I shall have a retail outlet for The Larches.....

It’s an honesty cabinet and so far Wyevale Nurseries or indeed any other garden centre need not fear for their livelihood... Situated at the bottom of the bridlepath, I started out by stocking it with some rather delightful strawberry plants, then I added some pots of herbs and then some rather delectable perennials.

In the beginning the children were thrilled to note that a pot of perennials had been removed only to be replaced by a shiny 50p and having made at least £2.50 in three weeks.... wit-ta-woo, I decided to expand production into jam.... [and yes, I have had an Environmental Health visit to pass my kitchen actually... and he was mightily impressed. Smug.]

Within a week, five jars of jam had been stolen! Out-bloody-rageous!

Last week someone took two huge pots filled with flowering strawberry plants. In return they left me some Spanish coins dating from before the Euro!

Yesterday two good sized lupins, raised from seed by me, were also nicked. Sheesh...

It’s a flipping honesty table, not a free for all!

Fortunately I know some lovely army chaps and their wives have very kindly volunteered them to lie in the ditch for the foreseeable future with their gorgeous foliage hats. They will then muller the tea leaves who feel my MFI cabinet is like Tesco but without the paying bit! Marvelous what your taxes will pay for.......

Batwoman!

Late last night hubby and I sat watching TV, the log burner roaring. We may have gone early on the log burner in the sitting room but it's new and gorgeous and the sitting room is pretty parky without some added heat - even in summer!

Suddenly I heard a squeaking noise and was off my seat, quick as blink, clearly a cat had brought a live present through the cat flap.

I entered the dark kitchen at speed and Tabby must have realised that I was none too pleased with his offering. He and his prize flapped back out the way they came in. I didn't recognise the squeal of the creature he'd caught and as it was still very much alive, so I grabbed the torch and lashed out into the walled garden.

Tabby, as I've mentioned before, is more dog than cat.

'Leave it' I said and reluctantly, leave it, he did.

It was a tiny bat, half the size of a golf ball. As I picked it up it bit me several times without piercing the skin, until it settled on my hand. (I'm pretty sure I don't have rabies this morning - but I'll let you know.) I checked its wings and body. It seemed unscathed.

I put it on the wall and eventually it flew off. Cute. I just can't imagine how Tabby caught it, although I do watch him patiently sitting at the pond, a favourite swooping area of the bats. Must have been one hell of a leap to catch the bat and avoid falling into the murky water!

Brilliant photo care of http://www.impactlab.net/2008/03/16/top-10-photos-of-the-week-5/

Ten Months...or 40 weeks...or 300 days....approximately

The Archers have been resident at The Larches for exactly 10 months today! It's whizzed by.

Achievements:
1. All four of us are still alive. (Although the 5yo and the 7yo, have made valiant attempts to test this claim...)

2. Also alive, are eight rescued battery hens, one donated rooster and two cats. Kept warm through a pretty chilly winter, I hasten to add.

3. I am loving writing here at The Larches, and have almost finished editing my book for 9+ girls. It's called Greystone School - First Freedom and when I'm completely happy, I'll let you know more!

4. We have almost killed one very persistent 80yo wisteria ....wisteria lovers beware of thy foundations!!

5. We have met lovely horse people, who use our facilities and fields. We have also forced ourselves on the neighbours/villagers, (I think they think we're ok, mad but ok!)

6. We have purchased an ancient and stinky 4x4, which has proved invaluable

7. We have reclaimed the gardens and house, from the grips of Mother Nature ....including ridding the attic of rats, ughhh!

8. The new veg patch, plus the chickens' eggs, should help supplement our food from here on, till September. Plus, we still have the apples, stoned fruit and hedgerow fare, like blackberries, to reap and store. Husband is also learning to shoot. Thus we are beginning to see our smallholding take shape ...I'll let you know as we progress.

9. We have resisted children's pleas, to purchase a horse. (Willy the Shetland doesn't count, as he just lives here f.o.c. and for that, the babies get the occasional riding lesson from the owner)

10. WE ARE BIG-TIME HAPPY.



Failures:
1. My bottom is not as nice as Felicity Kendal's,although luckily my husband, who wears v. strong glasses, thinks it is.

Eau de Mouse...

L to R: Tabby and Benny.

The title of this blog is courtesy of Marie (at school.) It can either be said with a heavy, sexy french accent...or in a very suburban accent (London or New York, you choose,) 'Euuuwwww de Mouse!!'

Because.....

We have two cats, one is suave, sophisticated, James Bond-like. That's Ben. He's fit and trim. He saunters up to you and assesses you with sultry eyes. But don't be fooled, he's a killer. The other cat is big, handsome, thick! I'd liken him more to ...... erm... ermmmm .....(d'y'know what? Because I was struggling to think of a personification of Tabby, I typed Big, Handsome, Thick into google. Sooooooo wish I hadn't done THAT! I feel a bit queasy now!) Anyhoo, Tabby's a bit more like Peter Andre: He's nice'ish, not overly bright, but bad things keep happening to him!

Over breakfast yesterday, the children and I heard a squealing noise. Tabby had brought in a mouse through the cat flap. He then accidentally dropped said mouse! You could see it was an accident: If he could have spoken, he'd have said 'Sh*T!' Luckily, as it headed towards the range, he caught it. Phew-eee! we three said in unison ...... then he bloody dropped it again!

Like a scene from a really good football match, in which Beckham takes the ball and avoids all contact, then scores... little mouse weaved in and out of our legs, pursued by Tabby-the-incompetent. Finally it disappeared into the boiler cabinet! It has not been seen since! Grrrrr.

So you see, at first it was 'euuwwww a mouse!' and now, no doubt, as the creature has probably died from a heart attack, wedged in behind the lovely warm boiler,....soon it will be Eau De Mouse!

Note to Cats Protection League - this cat is on his LAST warning...

James Bond is on top....of course!

Olympic Team

I'd like to put my name down for the Olympics please...no, not for seats, I'd like to enter myself for the sprint. Actually, is there a race where your cat has a baby bunny in it's mouth that is squealing like a stuck pig and you have to lash about the garden vaulting hurdles of raised beds and chickens in order to retrieve said bunny in an effort to ensure that it doesn't join the rest of the dead headless uneaten bunnies under the barbeque? [sod the punctuation - I'm too tired to punctuate] Oh. There is no such race? Best scrub my name off then!