1. 1.

   a small rented farm, especially one in Scotland, comprising a plot of arable land attached to a house and with a right of pasturage held in common with other such farms.

   Oxford Dictionary

The boys were at the far end of Lyradale happily munching in the lee, or shelter, of the surrounding hills.

Ponies = dots that you can barely make out somewhere in the far distance.

The grass that surrounds the house is for the needy later on this winter.  The Minions and their lady friends are not considered thin or needy and thus this grass is not for them.  Not now and possibly not never.  They is fat little ponios.

Almost every day I walk past this derelict croft house and yet, today, I saw it through different eyes (or camera lens settings, depending on your outlook).

I scrambled through the blocked front door (on the other side of the porch).

Typical Shetland, and maybe they do this elsewhere, but there are two front doors – one each side of the front porch.

I guess it depends on which way the wind is blowing.

I haven’t been inside for a while.  I tend not to but it is interesting to look through the windows and see the same views that the original residents would’ve looked at.

Front View

Back View

I don’t know when the last inhabitants of Leradale (original name) moved out.

You can see they had good facilities.  I think that using large stones mean someone spent money.

One day, I will try and do something with this house.  It has a special feeling.

It is my dream.

Anywho, after wafting about taking photos of the house and imagining the occupants and their way of life, I went to see the more important residents of Lyradale.

I have spent most of my morning setting up a friend’s computer so didn’t have the chance to go outside to talk to anyone.

After the computer marathon – why is nothing ever simple? – Daisy and I went to work at Turriefield.

Knowing I hadn’t taken any photos for today’s Blog, I gave Floss my camera and asked her to go out and take some pics.

First, she went to see the sheep who were all out the front, chewing their cud.

Happy little Boyzenberries all back to normal.

‘Ster was practising his Winning Smile.

Lambie was not (obviously practising his Filthy Look).

Next up, Floss went into the field to see if the Icelandic horses and Shetland ponies wanted to talk.

Little Newt looking very strangely proportioned – I think it is the camera angle. I sincerely hope it is!

But he has a cute face.

Albie is doing fabulously.

Flossie was then spied by the others.

And that was that.

She was theirs!  This is Klængur (apparently).

I love Iacs sneaking around the back of the shed.

There is no hierarchy according to size.

Haakon stayed well away – there is grass to eat.  Nuff said.

Taktur and Kappi were also stuffing their faces.  Food = central heating and it is getting gradually colder each day.

They are all funny little boys. A happy herd.  We love them to bits.  They are our family.

Today was a day for the Icelandic horses.  Not the Shetland ponies.

Bjørn, our trainer and farrier, shod Haakon’s front.

I was tölting down the road last week when I heard a ping, a flash of iron out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly we were one horseshoe down.

I haven’t ridden Haakon since then as it is not fair to ride him lopsided.  It does neither of us any favours.

So I was glad to have my old boy shod again.  We can get back out and about.

Next up, Bjorn gave Flossie a riding lesson on Klængur.

Their aim was to manage the “pocket rocket”-ness, to get Klængur’s engine into the back and to find a more four-beat tölt.

First up, half halts.  The basis of everything.

(everyone was enthralled)

Then Bjørn had a shot to see what was going on inside Klængur’s head.

As usual, he got him going beautifully (so not fair – that depressing moment when someone rides your horse better than you do!)

But Flossie got back on and achieved so all was good.

A quick break and then Bjørn brought in his new gelding, Elvar.

Bjørn wanted a horse to ride while Elvar learned to be a hand-horse.  This is a common training technique in Iceland.

If you want to do something different, Haakon is your man.  He is brilliant at this.  He never flickers. He never says no, he is 100% trustworthy and reliable.

And after a slight uncertain start from Elvar, they were all happily circling the school in walk, tölt (and piggy pace)!  We decided the indoor school was the best place to find out if this method would work.  Next, they will go outside.

I am always very proud of Haakon when he does a job well for someone else.

**** sniff **** coz I am his Mum and I trained him since he was 3 years old.

Well that is ‘Bert now feeling better and back to normal.  Big phew all round. Thank you for all your healing vibes for him.

Have you ever seen three sheep begging for their biccies. These delights are now off the menu as I think they might have been the cause of all the bother.

I am trying my hardest to ignore the “Winning Smiles”.

I am immune.

Truly.

Anywho, here are the last of the photos from our Sunday visitors.

After the foalios, I took them all to the stallion/gelding field.

Everyone instantly noticed Newt, despite Albie standing beautifully.

Newt ruled and enchanted.

He made everyone his servants.

And accepted the adoration.

Albie had a few kisses too.

Those that came up to talk were hugged.

Albie was perhaps a little jealous.

So he “attacked” the photographer.

He tried his best to look cute.

He even tried to listen to instruction.

But mostly he ignored it!

Newt then moved in for “the kill”.

Jean, the photographer, spent time showing Newt her photos.

Of course, he appreciated this.

Meanwhile, Her Maj was now luminous green with jealousy.

Ignore BeAnne at your peril.

Yesterday’s visitors wanted to meet everyone who lives at Thordale.

First up were the two foalios – Lilja and Dreki.

It is good for the little ones to meet people.

Lauren had brought carrots for them and Lilja proudly showed her that she knew what they were and how to eat them.

Dreki still remains highly suspicious of all things carroty and different.

He would politely take them and then spit them out on the ground when he thinks no one is looking – much to Hetja’s disgust.

My little foalios have grown a lot this summer.

As have their mothers.  Hetja and Brá have absolutely no intention of losing their baby weight.  At this stage, I do not believe in diets as they are both nursing their foals and will do all winter.  The weight will drop off them (hopefully) over the winter.

This winter, all the mothers will have is what is in their field.  No extra grub unless they need it and, looking at them, they certainly don’t.

Yes, ladies, you heard.  No extra grub!

Meanwhile, Lauren had now made firm friends with the foalios.

They showed her their nose-kissing skills – part of our foal foundation training.

And the foalios introduced themselves to everyone.

BeAnne was, as usual, very jealous.  She should be the main attraction.  It is probably Her Law.

However, the foals are very pretty.