Posie's Blog. Tales of island life on a hebridean hill farm

Posie's Blog. Tales of island life on a hebridean hill farm

Tuesday, 31 August 2010

Beachy days

15th July
Tearing the happy farmer away from his various projects on the farm is a bit like trying to strip woodchip wallpaper off an old plastered wall, pretty impossible. However Sunday arrived and unfortunately for the happy farmer he had no choice whatsoever when his happy family made him abandon all farm projects and head to Saligo Bay.

It did take most of the day to drag him away from the farm, but in the late afternoon we unloaded the jeep at the beach and walked over the hills to see the Atlantic rollers breaking on the sandy bay.  The rich aroma of steaks being cooked on the camp fire, which our friends had made from gathered driftwood, mingled with the salty sea spray, made his effort more than worthwhile. You can’t beat sitting in the sun, eating warm steak and listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore …bliss.

Much later we dragged ourselves from the beach feeling full and satisfied.

Until next time….

Monday, 30 August 2010

Summer Days

30th May 2008

Weeks of hot sunshine have left the ground cracked, but the weeding has been a doddle and all the young vegetable plants and seeds have been carefully planted, the potatoes and onions are well on, but there have been visitors, daily. When I venture into the patch they are nowhere to be seen, but leave their marks in the shape of small burrows, hollowed out through the furrows. Rabbits have never visited before, but the rabbit netting just isn’t stopping them this year. The happy farmer is now dealing with the problem for me, hopefully it gets resolved, it would be soul destroying to have done all of the digging, weeding, planting, not to mention the careful nurturing of seedlings in the cold frame, to see the fruits of my labours ‘nibbled’ away.

Charlie bless her has hatched ten chicks, two black and eight yellow, youngest daughter is delighted, and lovingly feeds them and checks their water when she gets home from school each day. The happy farmer has placed a hen coup and a pen in the front garden for Charlie. She is an excellent mother, proudly clucking and cooing over those chicks. The rabbit netting prevents Spock the pottery cat helping himself to one of those chicks.

On a sad note we lost one of the Highland cows yesterday, the happy farmer spotted her dead on the hillside. Her body has been taken away, but as we looked out the rest of our small herd had gathered closely around the spot where she had been lying and stood there for most of the day. Do cows hold funeral wakes? ‘Another dram for Morag then…..’

I have taken to cycling out the hill just now. An injury to a ligament in my foot has left me unable to run. I attempted to cycle along the road, but felt very wobbly and unsure so resorted to the farm tracks, which proved highly amusing, as my bike is no mountain bike. Pedalling up the stony hills and then through the muddy ditches proved challenging, but in the end very rewarding…..

Until next time…

14th July 2008

We arrived home off our holidays to a beautiful, calm summer’s night. The poppies , cornflowers and roses are in full bloom and the house is quiet and empty. Give it five minutes though and the rooms are ransacked by the return of excited children tearing up the stairs, eager to reclaim their space, emptying luggage out of bags to find those all important holiday purchases, leaving a trail of debris in their wake. The kitchen table is bursting with shopping acquired from the mainland supermarkets and a heap of bags and suitcases is growing at the foot of the stairs. I trundle back and forth unpacking food stores, loading up the fridge, only to find the happy farmer and eldest daughter have abandoned me to catch the final moments of ‘T in the Park’, a televised pop concert.

Following suit and still very much in holiday mode I climb over the bags and abscond to the holiday cottage for a welcoming glass of wine with friends who arrived off an earlier ferry. Later we amble over to the farmhouse kitchen, luggage still lying abandoned, and sit and enjoy the craic into the wee small hours, as they say in the Hebrides, ‘amerac…amerac…’ (tomorrow tomorrow)…….and the hassle of unpacking melts away to the back of my mind as I catch up with friends and a beautiful island sunset.

Until next time.....