I know, I know, I am always droning on about the weather but at the moment there seems to be no let up.

We are running out of grass fast and so we moved the herd up to a new field.  Although not big, it will do for the time being.

It is touch and go whether we have enouh grass until January, when we will start the silage bales.

In this field, none of the horses are thin or need extra.  I still religiously take Delia her bucket, though – she is 2 miles away – and she still enthusiastically flattens me for it.  Today we had trotting and whinnying when she saw me.

Technically, the new field is where the sheep lived during the day.  They are furious with me for letting the horses in and, except for Puzzah, found their hole under the fence and crawled out, leaving Puzzah on his own wondering where they had got to.  I called Puzzah up and let him out as it was not fair for him to be by himself – though I did see him secretly talking to Newt who is approximately the same size and not a dissimilar colour.  He probably wanted to adopt him and disown Lambie.  I wouldn’t blame him.

I had some lovely photos of the waves – which I have lost due to computer troubles.  With an early Christmas present, however, from my OH (more RAM), I am now back up and running again.

So basically, more RAM makes everything better!

Obviously!

Oh, and apparently it might stop raining/blowing by the end of next week.

Guess who was in the house?

A very small black and white (fleckit is the Shetland name) Lambie.

He is so insignficant that we can barely see him.

Lambie had, somehow, managed to ditch the others in their field and come home.  He didn’t care while they were calling for him, or to come out.

Lambie treated this place like a hotel – coming and going on a whim.   Some were less than impressed.

Lambie is a social beast.  He feels and he cares despite what our MP’s actually think and may they rot in the Hell that is waiting for them.  Animals are sentient beings.  End of.

Anywho, back off my soapbox…… Wussums was less than impressed with this new visitor. If you could currently smell the odour that surrounds Lambie (sheeple pee), you would understand Wu’s lack of enthusiasm for the meet n’ greet.

And then there was swiping.  Not our best moment, to be perfectly honest.

Poor little Lamb-Lamb.  Suddenly, Daisy heard OH’s car coming home so she quickly pushed Lambie outside while I Febrezed the house and we denied all knowledge!

While I sat on the wall of the tiny shed waiting for Delia to eat her daily Golden Paste and conditioning cube mixture, a certain little person was hopping up and down outside trying to get my attention so I could see just how starving he was.

If you were confronted with this little face, you could not but return the smile.  It would be rude not to.

Storm was grinning at me.

I think this is called “working the room” or field in my case.

I defy anyone to have a hard heart and not chuckle even a little bit.  Or is this a face only a mother could love?

Meanwhile, on other sides of the walls, I was being stalked. I do come with carrots for the others and chucked them over so they didn’t feel left out on the food front.

Tiddles came up behind me.

We were both practising the gentle Art of the Selfie when he gave me a smacker on the lips.

When Delia had finished her bucket and was mooching round for any last little bits that might’ve dropped out, I took the bucket away and gave it to Vitamin to polish off, which she duly obliged with 100% enthusiasm.

Storm was disgusted (ears back) but for me, Storm is a bit like Asterix – despite his terrible start in life, he fell in the cauldron as a yearling and doesn’t actually need more food.

But I am a nice Muzzah, and I let Storm have the leftovers of the leftovers of Delia’s bucket.

Therefore, I was allowed to leave the field in one piece.

Tuesdays = flute lesson day and then into town for our messages (shopping and stuff).

The usual.  We have no lives, just our routine which I, for one, adore (obviously if I could bring Lambie, it would be perfect but perhaps Lerwick is not ready for one woman and her smiling sheep).

Since my back disintegrates with no prior warning, plus that ridiculous anaphylaxis (again with no prior warning), my comfort zone is narrow.  As I write this, I realise I am pretty pathetic, but hey, that’s how I roll these days.

Obviously, when I have to, I get my big girl pants on and do whatever is required – see next week when I go south.  But, if I can get away with it, I tend to be a stay-at-home bird.  You just never know what’s around the corner and I, for one, don’t want to know.

So, having said that, today, I had a few messages in Gulberwick – a village 2.5 miles south of Lerwick.

I took the opportunity to explore.

I was very taken with this old graveyard which has no apparent means of access, apart from over the fields.   This worries me.  How do they get there?  Is it still used?

You can see Bressay, the island at the back.

A fierce rain shower came in.

There was a wonderful shed just sitting there.

And then a warning to the shed to stay standing because we all know what can happen in bad weather.

Perhaps I need to get out more and yes, I did enjoy myself.

The Shetland Winter skies are beautiful.

Cold, but beautiful.  Today we had our first frost and, although this looks like nothing, I took this photo in the afternoon and the ice still had not vanished.

Anywho, I thought you might be interested to see how Puzzah and his new-to-him sheeple friends are getting on.

Well, we have had a few blips (mostly of the butting variety which have resulted in a swift kicked arse) but Puzzah is coming along fine.

He learns.  He wants to do right (all positive) and he acknowledges my fury at his ill-educated behaviour so I think there is hope.

To his credit, Puzzah is good with the other boys.  I would not tolerate bullying – I have a contingency plan if he is a bully (Leradale).

They all seem very happy together.  Even son and heir, who today favours the gormless look!

You gotta love Les Boyzenberries.

They are so comfortable in their lives – and any addition/change is taken in their stride because, well, Muzzah says so.

The Boyzens all came home in the late afternoon – at night, they live outside around the house  where there are sheds to go to bed in.  Today, Puzzah wasn’t listening when I called them home.

So I sat on a rock and waited.

Lambie came up to talk and smile (there may have also been some secret hugging).

Sheep are very underestimated.   They have so much to say.

And then to the front door for the daily carrot supper.  Check out Lambie’s Winning Smile.

Mostly, the carrots are for Puzzah, who is very keen.  He needs extra.

And here we are, a few weeks on, and Puzzah is a fully paid up member of The Boyzenberries.

I do love my sheepie-boys.   Yes, they are a bit of work but so worthwhile.