It has been pouring with rain all day and I had visitors from England coming over.  We had lunch and then obviously I took them to my favourite spot, Sandness beach.

There was no one around and we had the beach to ourselves, which was lovely and apparently they saw some seabirds too (I didn’t take my glasses with me so couldn’t see a thing).

I enjoyed showing my Shetland to my friends.  I know them from my previous life in England.  They got to see my part of the world and hopefully understood why I am here.  These days, my love for Shetland is a very important part of me.  Living in England feels like another life.

We walked up and down the beach, while I looked for groatie buckies (Trivia arctica – one of the two species of cowrie shells found in Britain) – I didn’t find any – and they looked at the seabirds.

And then home for tea and cake, and of course the rain stopped.

(it was a lovely day off, even if it was raining, from making sheep)

Dahlia and Gussie are doing well.  I am trying hard to integrate them into the herd but with limited success.

While they eat separately from everyone, and I don’t blame them, it can be a rugby scrum of interchangeable bowls when the others are involved.

So after breakfast, Dahlia and Gussie join everyone else for the day in a field of someone’s choice (usually Lambie’s).  They spend the day together perfectly amicably generally staying with ‘Ster who stays around while the others go under the fence to find better grazing.

And then, when I come outside in the afternoon having finished my sheep-making, I feed the ducks/hens and then let D+G out – they ask to be put back into their big field with the horses.

They are happy with this routine.  Their days are spent with the other sheep while nights are with the old horses/ponies.

So sort of integration but not quite.  Their situation is better than it was and no one is having a go anymore.

Dahlia has made friends with Maggie, which is good – they were both hill sheep so they have that in common.

And Gussie’s chosen friend is Barrel (son of Maggie) – they gently argue and wind each other up.

Of course I blame Gussie. He likes a good joke and food, he definitely likes food.

I haven’t seen the Minions for a while.  They are spending their days on the far side of the track where their latest new grassy bit is.

However, I check on them twice daily – when OH poo-picks in the morning and I have a swift go around in the evening.  And if I am not sure, I take a photo from the house which I can enlarge to count ponies with.

And then I know they are alright (Tiddles is having a roll, not dying).

So it was a nice surprise to see the chaps this afternoon up by their feed bowls when I emerged from my sheep-making shed. They’ve not been up since Sunday.

So I gave them their breakfast (nine hours late), which they were very happy to eat.

And, as quickly as they arrived, they vanished again to another corner of their track.

So me, my bucket and gloves walked their track picking up poo when I got the sense that I was being followed….

Note:Tiddles’ spook at the bucket! Silly boy.

Waffle was already waiting for them at the bottom (and I have no idea when he got passed me – perhaps he flew) and I left them eating the grass in between the marsh marigolds.  It was good to see them move so well and I am even hoping they are losing weight.

A strong south-westerley breeze all day brought temperatures right down along with fierce sporadic rain showers.  Not nice. It is cold and wet again.

We all miss the sun.  I can tell.  Haakon and I agreed on this.

So when I went back later to let Dahlia and Gussie back into their field, I was surprised to see absolutely no one was using their newly mucked out shed.  It fits two comfortably and, although cozy, serves a useful purpose.  Nope, apparently sheds are for wusses and no one wanted to admit they were a wuss, even Fivla!

So I tried and now I give up.  Ungrateful lot.

(sorry this is short but I’m knee deep in making sheep as fast as possible and I haven’t really got much to say, which makes a change).

The weather changed.  I can attest to that as I stood in the pouring rain with Pepper watching the horses and ponies eat feeling wet and miserable.  I do wonder why I do this.  Could someone remind me, please.

It hasn’t rained in Shetland for a month and I was beginning to get used to a dry existence.  It was a lovely change. The mud had dried up everywhere and I had put much of my winter wardrobe into storage.

Stupid, stupid me.  As I write, I am looking at three coats, three pairs of over-trousers and varied shirts and jeans drying in the kitchen.  I have officially run out of dry or clean clothes.

The old ladies took the little shed but actually didn’t stay there very long.   They had gone by the time I went round to muck out.

This lot had taken up residence in their container (with haynets) but came out when they spied me doing the Sunday extension of their track.

It was a case of weather vs. new grass.  The new grass won, of course and they came cantering round to eat.

I spent my afternoon in my shed adding to the collection, ready to go to Jamieson’s Knitwear, in Lerwick.

And, as ever, I had a friend.  Wherever I’ve gone, Pepper has come too. She is not deterred by bad weather because it is her job to be with me.