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Well, this shed was used by various animals in multiple locations. It came to us having already served a purpose. Sadly the wind last week became a wee bit too much and pushed it over the edge. The pink interior and external flowers that creasote couldn’t even cover will be missed as a refuge by all flocks and herds. It was a rough way to go but bright hope for a bonfire…

And for all those wondering, no it never housed goats. We needed clarity in regards to The Shed…as in: The Green Shed, The Cow Shed, The Potting Shed, The Log Shed, The Wood Shed…and not naming the field shelter, the chicken coop, the lean-to, or the goose hut as ‘sheds’. So, randomly, it got called the Goat House. And sheds are always of use as shelter in the time of storm. However, I advise concreting…

The past two days have been filled with flail mowing and brush cutting. This is for two reasons. One, we have a problem with reeds that we have mounted war with. The battles have been long and slow, often with set backs but the opportunity arose to hit while the enemy would be weak. A cold, hard frost arrived on a day I had off and Tim was home which meant the ability to take out the trusty Dexta for a spin without pouching the ground, cutting the reeds when they will hopefully be further hit by the cold weather. The brush cutter was taken next as the armour of choice to reach places the tractor couldn’t.

This coincided with the end of a week at work where stress levels have been high and the insomnia has returned full strength. To counteract this I find the job as a good stress reliever. My stress levels had even reached the point of wanting to complain to a local politician about some of his comments regarding the NHS.hospital I work in. Never before have I been rattled by a politician as one this week. I gave him the element of courtesy (don’t believe everything you read in a newspaper) and went to his own site. Bad mistake, as not only did he have the same comment, he made further ones. Response: out came the brush cutter with full force, only as it was day two after several insomnia nights I was out of omph within an hour. I don’t think when the makers of brush cutters talk about stress reduction they are thinking mentally but maybe more in line to wearing a harness when out doing the job. However, it is a job with great satisfaction while taking your concentration. It is a way to use up energy and give time to think things over. Whether it is flail mowing, brush cutting, or mowing they are all jobs I can do for hours. So, maybe I should look at getting a different job…

There will be an Edinburgh delivery available tomorrow if anyone is interested in ordering beef or eggs. Please be in touch by 8am tomorrow (Tuesday 13th February) if you wish to place an order.

Some of our beef are looking for their forever homes, can you provide it? It may well be a week where consumerism is pushing steaks for two but why follow that path? Buy two packets and get your friends round. Or why not order some diced and make a delicious Steak and Ale pie for six? Busy but need to feed a family? Go for a pot roast and slow cook it (and watch everyone drool as the smell wafts through your house). Ideas, cooking suggestions and recipes can all be provided on request.

All deliveries will be provided by a hardy Rose, the Mini Crofter is the most likely to be in red though due to his newly washed snow suit. My romantic innerness really does shine at this time of year…

Having cold weather is nothing new. Discovering that the weather had been cold enough in January to freeze the ring feeder to the ground meant that the usual weight lifting excercises didn’t work (picture attempting to push up the top bar at each gap while looking like a wannabe weight lifter at the gym). I have in the past only once had the ring feeder freeze to the round and been unable to manually unstick it even after several ‘rounds’ of it. However, on that occasion I had the wee dexta so attached a ratchet strap between the two to unlock the feeder but also snapping the strap (although I didn’t feel too bad as I had wondered why I was turning into a light weight lifter). This occasion the next bale was already in the field so the tractor was substituted for a mattock (as you do). There was still hay in it but due to weather and other jobs required over the following few days knew it needed doing regardless. The entire feeder needed dug out before finally managing to uplift it and rolled to the next bale. Anticipated time slot for job: 20 min. Actual time taken: 1 hour 20 min. Och well, the other jobs were not a priority and the weather was one of the few none whites of last month. Weight lifting gym session complete.

The Crofter has nearly been home a week and lo and behold, nothing in the ‘exciting/terrifying/‘no-one-will-believe-me’ category of crofting life has occurred. I don’t count the sudden pick up of the chicken’s egg laying as even remotely in the category. The Crofter has been manning the place with the Mini Crofter while I have been back at work this week. And judging how it’s going I’m wondering if I have an uncanny knack of causing whirlwinds (not personally but some people seem to have smoother rides than others, and those of us in nursing all know that if you’re on shift with certain colleagues you are in for a rough ride).

So, as the midnight oil slowly ticks away towards dawn, I am awake, a mind that’s refusing to close for the night and no amount of counting sheep, eggs or moles is doing the trick. The difference in the morning is yes, I’ll be tired but I’ll be indoors for ‘work’. And there lies what I miss. Crofting means outside, stiff breezes, torrential rain and all kinds of weather to help keep you awake and blow cobwebs away. Instead, it will be coffe and a distant hope that by Thursday I’ll be back outside…with the mattic flattening mounds along a previously dig ditch as I dream of the lawn mower coming back out. Until then, I’ll go back to counting sheep.