They stuck pins (trigger point injections – now even that name makes me feel queasy) into my lower back today at hospital while pouring neat gin into a vein.  I hope it was gin – I did ask, hopefully.  Anyway, I am feeling a little precious and want my bed as the gin is wearing off far too quickly.

Outside the North wind is blowing, increasing to a gale shortly, and there is intermittent sleet and rain every few minutes.  Not nice.  BeAnne refused to go on the dog walk, let herself back in through the cat flap and is lying next to me exuding a very nasty niff.

Anyway, winter is coming and these ancient photos reminded me of a past Shetland pony herd who once lived at Thordale.

As there was snow, the ponies were given a silage bail to eat but they also happily wandered off and dug for food.  You can see from their snow tracks just how much travelling around the field they did.  I always make sure there is fresh water too.  There is a burn (stream) that travels the length of their field, but I usually lug some buckets of water too just in case the ponies are hanging around waiting for food and forgetting to drink.

I look at their long multi-layered winter coats and admire nature’s clever design.  None of these ponies lost weight, shivered or actually got wet in the long Shetland winter.  The many layers of fur trap the warm air between their skin and the snow acts as insulation.  The ponies instinctively turn their bums into the wind and bad weather.  The Icelandic horses do it too.  It is just something they know to how to do.

This is rather a random blog as I just picked a disk from my collection to write about.  You really do not want to hear about the gin or the needles.