The smell of hay. A moment in time.

It was a long day yesterday but I wouldn't have swapped it for the world. With happy, healthy children and similar animals, I can't grumble. The weather has been astounding; blue skies, belting sunshine and the merest breeze just to remind one not to moan about the heat.

After the madness of the alpaca mating, [not sure I'll ever get the picture out of my head of one splendid lad mounting our fawn alpaca, huge sound effects, a thin appendage making its way to the correct spot, my girl's tail held high by the stud owner and my 9yo boy looking on with disbelief,] it was nice to return to the usual noises of the smallholding, a lost lamb calling for mum, the cockerels cock-a-doodle-dooing and our neighbour haymaking several fields away.

We three played cards in the garden, while the cats rolled in the grass and the hens enquired if we had any spare food. Later we sat with the alpaca, petting their dusty coats, we tested some almost-ripe plums and picked the sweet peas for the house. We missed dad; mad-busy in the office in a hot city.

At 8pm our haymaking neighbour brought bales of fresh hay, our winter feed for sheep and alpaca. This is the first time we've bought enough to get us through. It feels good to be ready and is a much cheaper way to buy, though it feels odd to plan for winter on such a hot balmy day.

With hubby finally home, fed and changed, we all donned gloves and began stacking the hay in a stable, one on top of the other, raised on pallets to ensure the bottom bales don't rot. The smell was so amazing, almost bread-like. It was so fresh, so alive, it's wondrous to think of this summer goodness being able to sustain our animals in the bleak months. My babies; the 11yo and the 9yo are so strong now, a small bale being no issue. They are growing up so fast and I must remember to capture more moments with them in this blog, to describe in such finite detail so that I'll be able to return to see them in later years.

Sigh.

Well, I'm off to check on the alpaca, particularly Connie who may, mysteriously, be about to drop a cria, if her rejection of the boys yesterday is anything to go by!

Love to hear from you if you get the chance to comment here. Lou x

Solar recharge required....

It has been busy here. The builders finished some weeks ago and handed the house back to us in good condition, that, it seems was the signal for us mortals to begin painting and decorating.

It is fairly loathsome painting onto new plaster, the first coat, a 50/50 mix of paint and water is drunk thirstily by the surface and in my opinion newly plastered walls can happily drink coats two and three too. Maybe that's where the phrase plastered comes from. You can save money by buying the cheaper industrial sized pots of paint, far preferable to the Dulux Once brand, as the price and not the fumes, makes me light headed. I haven't even ventured to enquire as to the price of the Farrow and Ball-and-chain paint, believing the old adage of  'If you've got to ask the price etc.......'Mind you, though the monumental pot of cheaper paint is a third of the price, one still needs to apply 4 hefty coats to get the desired finish. Bor-ring!

We have completed the decor of the new family bath shower room in a zingy blue and crisp white and I have finished painting the entrance porch in a cream [can't bring myself to say magnolia] so there's just the downstairs loo to do in RED. So that's it for the renovated areas, just the rest of the house to do then !!

Patiently watching the renovation, the 9yo has been making noises off and thanks to our constant excursions to DIY stores, (poor kids,) two match pots of gaudy paint: one purple and one rusty red along with a purple lamp have been procured. It appears it is her room next.

Thanks to the delightful weather, with monsoon wet stuff and temperatures above 10°, the fields have grown ridiculously, we have borrowed a herd, flock, gaggle, cloud of sheep as it appears our three and a half lambs are not up to the job and they are making inroads to eat themselves back to daylight.

Yesterday, when a brief lull appeared in the storms, I got out on the mower and drove down Home Field, making a little track to the allotment for my wheelbarrow. [It will make it easier to transport the rotten strawberries to the house..... sarcasm: lowest form and all that malarkey...] Then I continued on and mowed around the cookout zone, affectionately known as Stonehenge, should be Woodhenge really... or Waterworld. Peering into the dug out fire pit I couldn't even see the fire baskets at the bottom of the hole, thanks to the rain water.

2011

Two days ago I sent Hubby off to work with his sandwiches and a boxed racing pigeon. He said it was an interesting journey; the pigeon was very grumpy and spent the hour doing Darth Vader impressions. He'd been blown off course and had taken refuge in the stables where we'd managed to read his leg bands. Going online we'd alerted his owner and 'ta-daaa' off he went home.

'You'd think he'd be less grumpy,' I remarked to a neighbour, 'I fed him corn and gave him a lovely soft bed.'

'Probably didn't want to go back to the owner, maybe he liked living in the stables.'

I felt guilty then but I really don't want any more waifs or strays... no. more. Queenie the lamb is positively the last this year and I'm fairly sure I'm cured of cade lambs now; with 4 hourly feeds I couldn't even take the sproglets on good outings this half term. They loved the lambs but were unamused by the lack of entertainment.

We did manage one trip out, we visited Hereford's Hampton Court. We've been before but it's still a treat and the 9yo and the 7yo are such cheap dates and can be bought for the price of an ice cream!

Roll on the real summer......