A few piccies from today.

Iacs and Haakon in need of a good brush.

They are revolting.

More proof brushing is required (I am almost ashamed) but one word.  Eurovision. So I am holding out until the help arrive.

Fivla determinedly on her way to her breakfast bucket (that is the look of pure determination).

I put the sheep in the big field with the horses and ponies today and turned around to find Barrel being told off by a duck for being in the doorway of the little shed.

That duck (Huey or it is Dewey or Louie?) was furious with Barrel who pretended to be oblivious that he was the actual problem

And then ‘Ster turned up and wanted to stand exactly where Barrel was.  It all got a bit like the elephants’ march in the Jungle Book.

Eventually everyone sorted themselves out and I took the dogs around the fields to look at the beautiful wild primroses that grow everywhere.

It’s a very good year for them.

They are gorgeous and look like mad scrambled egg.

Food buckets for all, wherever they are.

There is a lot of lugging, I can tell you. I find everyone a quiet spot to eat – so important and I can relate to that.

And then, after my well-earned breakfast (porridge, thank you for asking), I go out armed with my bucket and walking stick to poo-pick the track.

Tiddles, of cousre, had designs on my walking stick.  I said no. It is too valuable to lose to his gallumphingness.

As it was a fine morning, I gave myself a rest and sat down on a rock for a chat with anyone who wanted to talk.

My dear little Tiddles was first up.

Silver was busy quickly learning there was nothing but old poo and some rubber gloves in my bucket.  Slim pickings.

And then Albie appeared by my side.

My two little needy boys, who of course I adore.

But Tiddles was not prepared to share his Muzzah.

It’s funny how Newt and Waffle don’t give a damn today.

But everyday is different.

I am always surprised anyone wants to talk to me considering how I refuse them endless food (but never love).

I spent the rest of my morning thinning down the track.  Originally I was much more generous but watching them now, I realise that ship has sailed, left the harbour and probably sunk so I put everything back to the original track of misery and nothingness. Cruel to be kind.

Still, there are lots of blugga-flooers (marsh marigolds) to pick through.  No one ever eats them.

I have no idea why, but they grow everywhere.  Googled – apparently they are poisonous so fair do’s to those who really don’t eat them. 

This morning I was planting squashes, pumpkins and courgettes at Turriefield.  It is almost the end of the planting now which is sad for me, as I really enjoy it.

And hundreds of little pots of potential veg later, we took our efforts down to the polytunnel where I got to see plants in the “here are ones I prepared earlier” category.  I love this bit.  All my hard work magically appearing with the potential to be real edible vegetables.  I get a huge sense of achievement every time I look at all the greenery shooting upwards.

And one of my rewards to myself is that I get to wander around the pretty herbs that grow in this tunnel

I find that very relaxing and harmonious.

And it is also nice and warm in here too.

I got home in time of lunch and resentment that I hadn’t taken Pepper with me.

And then out again to my shed to make a sheep and then after round the pony track with my bucket to collect the poo up to throw away into a heap off the track.   The Shetland ponies haven’t left their new corner of food yet as was evidenced by their efforts too.

I think I deserve a glass of wine for all of that.

I am busy trying to get the weight back on the old horses and ponies and it is harder than I thought but I am hoping the spring grass will kick in and start doing its job soon.   The daily breakfast bucket remains at the moment but I have stopped all supplements to see if there is any difference.  There isn’t.

And every Sunday afternoon, I open up a little bit more of the track for the Shetland ponies on a diet.  I think they know this and, while I was working away making a new fence, they were waiting, looking hopeful.

I opened up old fence for them and they rushed through.

They will get this patch, which will be all gone by tomorrow, for the next week and that’s it until next Sunday when I will re-evaluate.

This time of year, I watch them like a hawk for any sign of laminitis and so far, so good.  I am trying so hard to be vigilant.  They can eat their rocket fuel but it is severely rationed.

It was not the best morning today. Windy and rainy and very cold.

I couldn’t find the little ones anywhere until I looked in the containers.  Everyone was sheltering in there.  So, feeling generous, I gave them a couple of double haynets full of hay but I only counted four ponies – Silver, Tiddles, Waffle and Albie.

Where was the fifth – Newt?  I found him in “his” container alongside Pepper, who was also sheltering from the achingly cold north wind (it is -3℃ out there, apparently, and I can actually believe that).   At least it is not snowing….. yet, though it has been known.

Anyway, Newt and Pepper are very sweet together.

They are the best of friends and I don’t say this lightly, but I actually do trust Newt not to be nasty to Pepper.  He would be vile to anyone else – that’s his little way.

So while the rain shat down on all of us outside, Newt and Pepper remained cosy and happy in their container.

They were passing the time of day.

(You can see just how small Newt is – as Pepper is about the size of a large cat!)