Haakon needs the Spring grass.

He told me this and I agreed.

He has still not put on the weight since his battle with Taktur and I still feel awful.  My guilt can last a long time.

Iacs agrees too.  Note the spectacular Silly Frilly.

We have the farrier next week and Klængur will have a full set of shoes put on. I am hopeful we can then get back into work.  Klængur’s had a nice long rest. His back is sorted and his hoof is mended.  Onwards, please with no spooking or other silly shenanigans.

Meanwhile, in the next door field, father and son are living happily together.

The wild primroses are wonderful – at their very best this time of year.

And the marsh marigolds (or “blugga” as it’s known in Shetland dialect) are just coming out. A Shetland spring in full swing now.

I left everyone to their job – eating.  They take it very seriously.  We have come through a hard winter and it has taken its toll.

But we have bluebells in the garden too!

Scunnered is a very good word. It describes exactly how I feel today.

These three, also known as The Old Men (not that Klængur is all that old), wanted to come and eat the grass around the house.  They asked very politely.

So we let them out of their field for the daytime.  They go to their field at night so the sheep can go to their bedroom.  Yes, my sheep have a bedroom – so shoot me!

In the afternoon, I felt I was being followed.

Now, I don’t mind the odd visitor (and believe me, this lot are odd!), but I honestly draw the line at an invasion.

And stalking…

And not being allowed to come out again.

And hairy. Most definitely hairy.

But visitors are nice, especially if they just stand there wanting to be hugged.  We had a lovely “moment”, Klængur and I.

The Old Men are enjoying the grass. It does involve some poo-picking afterwards but I think their happy little faces are worth it.

Just shout and the old ladies will come running, even cantering enthusiastically in Vitamin’s case.  Fivla just trots.  She was never one for unnecessary exertion.

And they’re straight in!

Food waits for no man, or Shetland pony.

Sh

Meanwhile, Floss walks down the hill to feed The Starving (who have grass if they cared to just go and look for it – believe me I tried to show them but no, they can’t so I have given up.  Anyway, the whole point is that they lose weight and if by mooning next to the fence makes them thinner, then so be it. They made their choice).

I will not feel guilty, I will not feel guilty, I will not feel guilty, I will not feel guilty, I will not feel guilty, I will not feel guilty, I will not feel guilty, I will not feel guilty…. (repeat until I feel guilty!)

We are a house of many beds. There is no definition between cat or dog bed anymore.

This is The Fortress of Solitude, mostly inhabited by Monster but he has moved out in favour of his lovely comfortable new bed.

A beautiful wicker basket which arrived with all my “stuff” including a bright red sheepskin.

Pepper always wants everything anyone else has but she has had a recent growth spurt and so I don’t actually think she could fit in this bed. This is the face of much covetousness.

Monster loves his new bed. It’s just the right size for him.

Pepper now hates her’s.  I found her sitting on the sofa – she does a very good Resentful Face.

And, still, Monster snores on.

Today Ted favoured the one bed by the Rayburn (a poor man’s Aga). It is always warm and cosy and he was drying off after a rainy dogwalk.  No jumpers and coats for Ted in this house – the theory being he will always come home if he is wet.

I don’t actually think Monster has moved or even been outside for a few days now.  I might give him a prod (from a distance with a long stick) to see if he is still with us!