Wednesday, 8 October 2014
The Happy Chappy from down the road has been doing a sterling job in his absence, as senior midwife in charge of the maternity wing, when he is not attending to any of his numerous other jobs.
I was disappointed then, when, poised with camera in hand, to capture the shot of mother and calf obediently jogging to the nursery field, I got a photo of the Happy Farmer and Happy Chappy looking extremely cheerful and relieved. Now I am well aware that 'cheerful' and 'farming' are not two words you would actually associate in the world of farming....and where were mother and baby??
This morning in the sunshine we could hear strange roaring coming from the direction of the Happy Chappy's house.....a rutting Happy Chappy or is it those stags on the neighbouring island? Autumn and all of its surprises are definitely unfolding...
Until next time...
Tuesday, 24 September 2013
She arrived on the farm as a totally unexpected surprise. Mist, the sheepdog, had kept her midnight shenanigans with the amorous Labrador from down the road totally to herself, in fact she even concealed the whole pregnancy, preferring to surprise us with a little black bundle snuggled in close one morning. This is how Bramble Berry Fletcher came to be.
This summer we celebrated one hundred years of the happy farmer's family residing on the farm with a garden party that started at 4.00 in the afternoon going on until 4.00 the following morning. There were many bodies scattered around various corners of the farmhouse however they surprisingly all seemed to disperse just before the happy farmer's wife surfaced to a scene of obliteration as the farmhouse was somewhat unrecognisable among the strewn bottles, cans, discarded burgers, a sign of a very good party indeed.
I was rescued from the cleaning chores when various visitors arrived from the holiday cottages armed with goodies for a full cooked breakfast for anyone who could find their way to the Kitchen. The smell of bacon sizzling from the Aga is a sure way to waken the house.
The problem facing us before this big extravaganza was that Bramble up to this point had wandered freely around the garden all day and then in the evenings had taken herself off to snuggle up to Mist. Being ever so tiny I did worry that with so many friends and family coming along little Bramble could be trodden on, or eat something that would upset her delicate little tummy. Much nagging later and the happy farmer built a new enclosed kennel for Mist and Bramble, one which would keep visiting amorous Labrador s at 'paws' length, and one which would keep Mist and Bramble safe during the party. As people began to arrive and the BBQ was heating up little Bramble took one look and ever so gracefully toddled through the bars of her new kennel and joined the party...for the duration, so much for the happy farmer's new kennel.
Sunday, 23 June 2013
Even the 'dancing girls', the happy farmer's sister and cousin, sailed over for a repeat painting experience at the chateau down the road, one of the very few, very last remaining tin houses in Scotland.
You would think those ladies after their last experience of toiling away in the blistering sunshine, painting the exterior of the house, while their brother performed his acrobatic balancing acts from the high ladder, would have steered well clear of the island for a little while longer. However such is the island's charms they just could not keep away and having nothing left to paint, bar the interior of the house, they made another pilgrimage to their island home, laden with paint and brushes.
Those girls, in the words of an old farmer from bygone days, 'booted and revved those engines', which roughly translates to working their socks off all day, slapping away with the paint brushes, and then getting heavily refreshed, by way of tucking into a plentiful supply of 'refreshments', into the wee small hours. It made for a good recovery and prepared them for another day of hard slog. As I mentioned in a previous blog, the most entertaining part of this is that the happy farmer's sister will tell you that she has, to quote the old farmer again, 'run up many miles on the clock', as she is, nearly sixty years old, (which is a tad of an exaggeration, but she holds that it does make her look ever more youthful if she piles a 'few extra miles onto the clock', or years onto her youth!!).
Until next time...