Made of Stone.

Some people collect stamps, or cards, or fousty things in their veg drawer. Me? I collect stones. All sizes. But I’m picky. These aren’t just any stones, these are hand picked. Each one specially eye catching to the beholder. No, I don’t work for M and S. But I’m not lying. Each one is picked, pulled, or prised from a specific area (the space the pigs ploughed last year, the section of the chicken area that got ploughed). Each one has caught my eye saying, ‘Pick me, pick me’ in the stone variety version of Donkey from Shrek. Little and … Continue reading Made of Stone.

Ride ‘em Cowboy.

With the bonnie weather, we’ve had a few days off. A wee trip to Urquhart Castle (man at the desk: “Where you from?” Me (with the Micro Crofter), “Other side of the loch”. Crofter follows about 20 mins later with the Mini Crofter. Man at desk: “Where you from?” Crofter, “Other side of the loch”. Man at desk, “You got someone else already here?” Hmm, yes. But that wasn’t premeditated as not all visitors have to travel far, we just don’t tend to get out much. Latest ‘day off’: Ohh, let’s just ‘nip’ down to our local pub for lunch. … Continue reading Ride ‘em Cowboy.

We’re going on a bear hunt.

Well Micro Crofter, your Mum recited this to your brother when he was your age. She thankfully had the sense (which, with so lacking in sleep at the time, was pretty good common sense), to sell off all breeding sheep stock for a few years. Ode to the Shepherdess: We’re going on a sheep hunt, we’re going to chase the wee ‘un’. We’re going on a ewe hunt, before she has her lamb. Bear? What bear? This is Scotland the brave Crofting boy (think The Corries; land of t’ purple heather, land where the midgies gather), there’s nae bears. And … Continue reading We’re going on a bear hunt.

Watching me, watching you.

So the cows decided it was pay back time. In and out of the house getting work done. Glance up from the kitchen sink to see our herd looking over the fence to the decking. Not in a row that they do to watch the neighbours’ TV through the kitchen window, but still all having a look. See, during calving time they have to put up with me watching them post partum to ensure both mother and calf are well. Today, the Micro Crofter for parked outside for his morning nap. Sun shining (but covered I hasten to add), birds … Continue reading Watching me, watching you.

The Inspection

Today we had an inspection. And one that we paid to have done. Yes, that’s right. As a Senior Charge Nurse, I have had to deal with lots of inspections in the past. And you would think I would avoid them at all costs out with the NHS. For even when you know you have high standards and you are always looking to improve; inspections never fill me with that warm, fuzzy feeling (dust on the other hand, generally does give a warm, fuzzy feeling but any health professional will know that health inspectors are on such a par with … Continue reading The Inspection

Brexit and the Coo

Yes, we have a cow that I think could stand for a political seat (and who came up with the terms; should they not sit for a seat or stand for a place? If they could sort out the terminology it might help some from being so confused). Dryope is our oldest cow and she wasn’t making up her mind yesterday. Should she have the calf or not. Back and forth across the field she trundled, just humming and hawing as the sun shone softly and the smell of spring was back. But no, she would have sat on the … Continue reading Brexit and the Coo