Category Archives: Cats and dogs

We Made a Picture

I had a project I’ve been meaning to do but I knew I would need help, ie someone with artistic flare.

I chose Daisy. Lucky Daisy, though possibly not because she did most of the work.

I keep everything including a tin box full of old brooches that I can’t sell (tried and failed) and don’t want to wear. I know some were my mother’s and the rest, possibly my Great Great Aunt Kate’s and Great Granny’s.

This is a Victorian mourning brooch and full of meaning and history. I am just not sure whose. The hair belongs to a baby. So possibly my great-uncle who died at 6 months old from meningitis.

This is a fibula pin – silver filigree Hamsa hand (Hand of Fatima) with red glass cabochons,

So, firstly, I bought an gilt oval frame off Fleabay and then 1m of padding and another of cotton black velvet. I had a plan.

OH made a wooden back to the frame. Daisy marked and cut out the padding to the right shape.

At first we were undecided about whether we needed the padding or not. It was bulky behind the velvet. We tried it both ways and in the end decided to keep it. It would make attaching the brooches easier. Then I stapled the fabrics to the board and Daisy cut off the excess material.

Some of the brooches aren’t in fact brooches but are shoe or dress ornaments so needed sewing on. I tried, and failed three times. I hate sewing. Daisy, however, was brilliant. She worked like a surgeon.

And here is the finished result. I love it – just how I wanted it to turn out. I’ve hung it in my work shed.

Aunt Kate and her cousins are also in my room.

I am so glad the brooches didn’t sell and are out on display (ignore the ceiling – there was a leak last winter).

They are hanging where they should be.

The Last of the Flowers

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Daisy and I went for a lovely walk with the dogs in Clothie – my separate five acre croft land that is a little way into the open hill grazing.

Having climbed the hill, I sat on an old windowsill of the derelict croft house and admired the view, happy that the postman had dropped off an important parcel (for an exciting craft project I am about to start). I watched him driving off back up our track.

The grass is nice and high in places. This is the old horses and ponies’ winter grazing for a few months. The dogs found it hard work to walk through and had to bounce over it to see where they were going – I hoped this would use up lots of energy and tire them nicely out, while we didn’t have to walk very far. It did.

The beautiful abundant summer flowers are now all dying back. Summer is beginnning to feel over here. It has been a very good year for them. So much colour.

I found a good patch of Devil’s-bit scabious which is my favourite. It was competing with the buttercups and hawkweed. Interestingly, the horses and ponies won’t eat it. It always looks delicious.

Daisy and I wandered around our field for a bit while the dogs did their own thing. Last time I was here, Pepper came home with a dead polecat that she had hunted down.

Given any chance at all, Pepper is a keen hunter, always on the look out. I don’t discourage her because a) it is my own land and b) it is one less polecat to try and kill my chickens and ducks.

Sharing and Not Sharing

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Some share better than others. It depends.

(This morning I found Fivla and Vitamin in the wee shed together so I popped both their buckets in).

Waffle is a kind pony and will always share his bucket with care-in-the-community Albie who seldom eats out of his own bowl by himself. I give Waffle’s bowl extra so no one misses out.

Lambie, of course (and did you even need to ask) cannot share. He hates it and gets very upset, so he has his own private dining room which makes him happy. He can then eat in peace. The other sheep all swap bowls every few seconds which upsets him hugely and he just stands there feeling put upon.

This afternoon, Pepper would not share. Despite being a non-eating day (she has since rallied and had her tea), she still stole Ted’s fishy shed-treat but, feeling sick, just sat with it. Upon her return to the shed now, however, I heard crunching and it’s vanished. Poor Ted. Snooze and you lose.

Also, Waffle came up on his own when he heard me open the gate to take the two haynets into the paddock.

The rest came cantering up a few minutes later.

Newt was not sharing.

But the rest were (Silver wasn’t interested so doesn’t count).

Also later on today, I found he old ladies having a discussion about the wee shed (again) – apparently a constant source of oneupmanship or is it oneupponyship?

(Fivla was not budging).

So, in conclusion, some animals share, some don’t and some won’t. It depends.

Smoking

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You remember the mackeral I caught with my friend on the little yellow boat yesterday when we went sea-fishing, well, I took most of them home because I blithely said “no worries, I can smoke them” forgetting what immense hard work it always is.

Anyway, I spent that evening gutting and filleting (exceptionally badly) each mackeral and putting them in a brine for a few hours to form a “pellicle” – A pellicle is a thin, tacky skin of denatured surface proteins that forms on meat, poultry, or fish when air-dried after curing or brining.

The fillets were then dried on a rack overnight in the fridge as well.

This morning found me moving my cold-smoker to one of my many old sheds. It sat on a rickety chair I found (now I look at this photo, I think I must make it a bit more level for optimum smoking and possibly safety!)

This shed is not an easy shed to get to – I had to “Prince-Charming-like” in Cinderella hack my way to my destination through our wild garden.

All day, I have been regularly checking my smoker as a) this is a new location for it and b) I didn’t want it to stop smoking until it had used up all the sawdust. Last checked, I have another few hours to go.

But I think I might try a couple of fillets tonight and then give my friend, whose boat it was, his fair share too. The rest will be probably be made into smoked mackeral pâté.

Next time I offer, I must remind myself just how much effort it is. I hope it’s worth it.

A Few Odd Ones

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Nothing much to say today as in absolutely nothing has happened except for the weird photos I found that I took throughout the day.

This was Monster first thing in the morning telling me all about his night out and how he worked hard protecting the homestead. Those borders don’t repel themselves, you know.