Hello all, as Frances heads to hospital for her epidural steroid injection, it’s Nick here again to tell you about an auspicious day for Danny.

This is his “What do I care?” face.

We started the day with a walk, as usual, though the weather was more spring like than it has been this year.

Danny didn’t suspect a thing – too busy chasing imaginary squirrels to care about anything of this earth.

This last photo is of the Ebury Way – a dismantled railway line that provides a footpath from Watford to Rickmansworth. Away from all roads, it crosses three rivers (the Colne, Gade and Chess), a canal (the Grand Union) and the Metropolitan Railway. They are extending the Met Line so that it runs directly into the centre of Watford, and the new track runs very close to the Ebury way. They make sure you don’t accidentally stray onto the new works with what seems like an unnecessary number of “Keep Out!” signs:

On the way back home, we passed the site of what was possibly a failed reconciliation between former lovers:

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yes, Danny’s special day. It was time for his haircut! You’ve see the ‘before’ photos, now check out the ‘after’!

What a smart boy!

Carrying on from yesterday’s photos….

After seeing the beautiful black standard Shetland ponies, we went on to visit the miniatures at Bergli Stud.

They were very pleased to see us.

Bjørn, their owner and breeder, had brought some bales of hay for them.

The ponies feigned vague enthusiasm for a short while.

And then quickly lost interest, preferring to come over to say hello (and to be photographed).

They are all very photogenic.

(I love this one being photobombed!)

Such beautiful little ladies.

Some are pregnant and some are not.

We played the usual guessing game that is very popular this time of year –
Bjørn – do you think she is pregnant?
Me – I dunno, er, could be…….

They all sported wonderful hair styles.

with lots of character.

Miniature Shetland ponies have a unique charm all of their own.  I adore them.  I love the way they think.  They are very different, character-wise, to their standard versions.

Tomorrow, I spend the day in hospital having epidural steroid injections. I am not looking forward to it but it is a necessary evil.  I know I won’t have the strength to write the blog so I have asked Nick Miners to step into the breach.

I miss my standard black Shetland pony girls (we used to breed them in the dim and distant).

Happily, I would spend many hours photographing my beautiful ladies in their fields – they were always very photogenic and obliging.

But backs (my spine, mostly) misbehave, the market dropped like a stone, Shetland pony politics, life moves on resulting in the majority of the Thordale Shetland Pony Stud was sold.

Anywho, today I missed my girls. I missed taking photos of them and, presented with an endless supply of beautiful black standard Shetland pony mares from Bergli Stud, I happily snapped away

I hope you like the photos.  Yes, there is a sea of mud but, at the moment we are all living like this.  There are no exceptions.  Until the mud dries up and goes away, we are all in the same boat.

Look who I found this afternoon on my way out to Lyradale – it was such a sweet picture that I had to go back for my camera.

Little Newt was fast-a-bye-byes in a fish box of silage!

Dearest Delia keeping an eye on both the little boys and even pushed Newt’s head back up when he nearly nodded off his new favourite pillow (bless her wonderful cotton socks – she is such a perfect “grandmother”).

Delia was eating next to him.  I always leave a big pile of silage by their bed/shelter for snacking, because you just never know and it is so wet and miserable at the moment.  It is not cold, though.  Their rugs are off.

“Everyone should have a fishbox of silage for a pillow.”

And then Delia nodded off too, leaving Tor in charge.

Zzzzzzz……. A Sunday afternoon zizz.

We were doing ok this winter.  The fields were holding up well and remained fairly dry.

And then it rained – serious rain.  The wet, falling out of the sky in bucket loads sort of rain.

And now we have mud.

It is the kind of mud that you only walk in if you know a safe route through.  The kind that when you take a step you also take on the gamble of whether your wellington boot will follow too or you will be hopping about in soaking socks swearing.

It is all rather getting to us now, as you can see.

But we struggle on.

We tell ourselves that at some stage, there will be a good Shetland wind that will dry it all up and we will forget for a few slightly warmer months just how bad it was.

To be fair the fields are not all mud.

The horses can get out of it so it is their choice if they want to stand fetlock-deep getting even filthier.

The old ones are fine, really.  They don’t care.  They know how it works.  Lose your shoes in the mud and you can get out of work!

It is little Efstur I feel sorry for most.  He is hating it.

But love, hugs and carrots usually do the trick.

Yes, I told Haakon off for doing this – twanging the fence.

A heinous crime!

Spring is trying to make an appearance.  The oyster-catchers are back – always a good sign as they shout and laugh at each other.

Our garden is beginning to show some colour.

Seeing all this convinces me that the mud might dry up one day!  Spring is here!