The weather has closed in.  Day after day with no let up.  Yes, the sky has its dramatic moments but everything is falling out of it in intervals like a hail of bullets.

You can usually see it coming so can take appropriate action!  We hide in the car until it is quickly over.  Suddenly everything goes dark grey, the wind gets up and then large amounts of “weather” fall out of the sky.

Having visited everyone at Leradale, fed Delia, kissed noseys, distributed carrots, Floss and I went into town to have our hair done.  Needs must if you are a “natural” blonde!

The Street was just about deserted.  The wind was howling and no one was around.

In the interim of the gusts of horribleness, I managed a few photos.

In Shetland, wherever you are, apparently,  you are never more than 4 miles from the sea.

Floss and I now have beautiful hair!  So you know.

Tomorrow, the forecast is for another gale. It gets very wearisome this time of year but still the chores have to be done.  The winter skies are pretty, though, in a scary drama sort of way,

In Iceland during the Autumn, after the horses have been used to round up the sheep and horses bringing them home from their summer pasture, they are given a holiday for a few months.

Taktur is officially on his holidays.

He has worked hard for Daisy, training for a variety of shows.

Now Taktur’s day consists of standing by the gate at 10.00 (he has seen me feed the sheep), then wandering up and having his bucket of grub.  Then he stays in the field to eat or sleep – whatever grabs him.

Taktur’s shoes are off.  No one rides him and he has very little human input apart from the food and being put back in his other field in the afternoon.

A holiday is a holiday.  

Taktur has been ridden regularly all year – at least five times a week

And Taktur has always done his best for Daisy (and Bjørn).

This is Taktur’s time now to enjoy watching others do the work.

We are great believers in giving our horses a rest from work.  They don’t have to be ridden or trained or shown every minute.  That is not fair.  They need some peace from us too. 

We have always done this.  It is very good for their mental and physical development.

So Taktur sits by his favourite rock like Ferdinand, the bull in The Story of Ferdinand, sniffing the flowers in the lovely ladies’ hair (if we wore flowers in our hair, believe me Taktur would be sniffing – but not in a pervy way!)

Taktur is enjoying his holiday.

When we were leaving Leradale yesterday, having added two small Shetland ponies to the herd, we seemed to be minus one small dog.

Can you see her?

Her Maj went on a sit down strike.

So we left her to enjoy her sulk and went and took photos of the Icelandic horse foals instead.  They are always happy to talk.  No sulking there.

Brá hiding behind the wall – probably from her son, Dreki.  She is very bored of him.

Hetja, on the other hoof, loves her baby girl, Lilja.

The foals are both very happy in their new environment.

I think they probably spend many hours looking at the others.  The Shetlands are now wandering into the hill so that is good.  They will always find food if they leave the foals alone.

I enjoyed my time taking photos.  The ladies favoured the higher ground.  

And the foals are learning how to read the lie of the land.

This is where they get their education – where to stand when the weather is bad.

Meanwhile, Her Maj continued her sulk and only moved when we drove off!

The mud is getting too much at home for Albie and Newt, the little rescue Shetland ponies, so we moved the little boys over to Leradale.

Firstly, however, they had to walk through the field where the Icelandic horse foals live with their mothers.  Dreki was fascinated to see the “little peoples”.

Once through the gate, the Minions, who were the other side of the valley, cantered over to say hello to their long-lost friends.  They had spent Summer together so they did all know each other.

The re-introductions started. 

Newt and his Nuncle Storm (naw!)

Meanwhile, Delia dragged me off to her hut to be fed. 

Everyone took an interest in the newbies.

I love this photo – all my Minions together.  These are my little boys who I love, who need me and who I am responsible for (sniff ** may have had gin ** sniff).

Newt and Albie were very happy.

However, Dreki was very sad he was the wrong side of the fence.

Everyone was in a very gallopy mood.

Little bottoms flying (while Delia remained with her head in her bucket)

Dreki refused to be left behind.

Sensing the excitement, he went galloped around his field, trying to talk to them.

Once Delia finished her bucket, we let the others clean up.

Newt seemed very taken with Silver.

Games are good
Funny little boys.

Albie tried his best.  He spent last winter with Delia.

It was lovely to see everyone trying to make friends.

I adore this photo!  Says it all, really.

Poor Dreki felt very left out.  He would give anything to be a Minion.   

So that’s Albie and Newt moved.  I have always wanted all the Minions at Leradale together.

How it should be.

We have started to feed Delia daily now.  I just don’t want her to get any thinner than this.  It falls off her, this time of year, so very easily (lucky cow!)

Anywho, she knows the drill, see the bucket and follow the bucket. I feel I take my life into my own hands carrying this out.

In Leradale, there is a cosy little shed (sans roof) that is proving a very useful place to feed Delia.A bit back-breaking to get in and out of, but I manage.

We are quickly surrounded.

OH fashioned a gate thing to keep the predators out.

So the predators just circle the shed and making wanting faces at Delia and I.

Oh, how the poor starved suffer.

I can read their thoughts. 

It’s not difficult.

But Tiddles is sensible. He chatted up Daisy first in case she just happened to have a carrot about her person, like you do.

The wall is probably eighteen inches high but the ponies haven’t jumped down.  They know what Delia would do to them.

It’s a full time job, all this wanting.

These poor starving ponies live in a huge field with grass everywhere.

Plenty, plenty grass.  How they suffer so.

Once Delia has finished her grub, she barges her way out.

Notice how Storm is first in to check for leftovers – there were none.

For as long as Delia wants to flatten me for her daily bucket of Golden Paste (a turmeric mixture) and conditioning cubes, and can keep the weight on over winter, then all is good.

Delia’s enthusiasm for food is her reason to live.  I can relate to that.