The cuckoo has arrived. I heard him a few days ago, but the happy farmer didn’t so this morning I quickly dragged him out onto the front doorstep to listen. There are a lot of superstitions regarding the cuckoo here, apparently if you hear him it means you will live for another year, hence my haste to get the happy farmer outdoors this morning. Of course the cuckoo stopped as soon as the happy farmer appeared, which caused me a moment or two of worry, but as we sat on the bench in the heat of the morning sun, drinking our coffee, he began to call out again, and this time we all heard him!
The tadpoles were out, shimmying across the large puddle as I went on my run this morning, tails wriggling away. The views were spectacular from the hill, yachts sailing up the sound, the Isle of Mull in the distance.
I hung out the washing when I got back, only to discover, later on, that it had become a mating ground for hordes of flying ants. The washing was black with them, hopefully they will have finished and moved on by the time it is dry, fingers crossed they don’t leave any mess.
The pigs have done an excellent job of weeding the vegetable patch, but it really is time to get the potatoes and onions in, and begin to harden off all of my little plants, so the happy farmer fenced an area in front of the garden to move them to. I got roped in as chief photographer and film maker when it came to walking them to their new home, what I didn’t bargain on was the little piggies deciding to take chase after me, regardless of the fact that the happy farmer had the bucket of food. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, frantically screaming, completely ignoring the happy farmer’s pleas for me to stop, or run towards him. I kept running until I reached the shelter of the pottery, they nearly followed me in. I am in disgrace now with the happy farmer, especially as I was meant to be the cameraman and he the film star, his only regret was that he didn’t have a camera to capture the great chase on video. How was I to know the pigs wouldn’t bite my legs, that they were just being friendly?
I now smell of chicken ‘poo’ as I write this; I got carried away weeding and mulching around the flower beds this afternoon. The happy farmer had filled a wheel barrow when he had cleaned out the chickens; I hate to see good manure go to waste. I am frantically trying to get this done before the children arrive home from school and take over the computer, best go and get cleaned up the pong is pretty horrific, but the results will be worth it!
Until next time…
