Fed up with mud...

You know what I want? What I really, really want?

I want to walk up onto the field without coat/scarf/boots/hat/gloves. I want warm and light and mostly I want Spring.

I didn't think it was infectious but it looks like I've caught Februaryitis - an affliction which seems to be doing the rounds of blogworld. Some days, at this time of year I'm that fed up with mud and gloom that I could - in the words of an old Yorkshire friend - 'writ' bum 'ont wall.'

I am failing to express myself quite as eloquently as bloggers elizabethm and Rachel. All I can think of saying is 'Bleugh, I've had enough of this. Moan. Sigh.'

But hang on...when the sun comes out things look pretty good. It was light this evening at 5.37pm and at 2 minutes per day that means by Sunday, well, it should be light at nearly six o'clock. Well, nearly. But you get my drift.

We have snowdrops, early crocus and the sweetest little cyclamen. There are lambs - as skippy and hoppy as lambs can be.  I'd swear that the birds were sounding a little more optimistic too. Tweet, tweet. I am glad about these things.

In other news:

The Hermans have been baked. Here they wait to go into the oven:

Other Hermans have been given away but I have no news of their fate. We have eaten one of ours and it did taste good - particularly when warm, straight from the oven. The only thing which might have made it better would have been a dollop of Bird's custard....but the Glam Ass is something of a foodie snob and doesn't do custard (or ketchup or instant coffee) so we went without. The other two are in the freezer.


Chester the brave hunting dog has had a worrying couple of days. Firstly he was bullied by the lovely sheep, which gave him a good and unexpected 'seeing-to'. (Admittedly better that the other way round - I must admit that in sheep country such as this it is perhaps the best thing that could happen to him.) She pushed him into the fence and proceeded to head-butt him vigorously while he desperately looked for a means of escape...eventually running to stand behind me. Wuss or what?

As if a large old ewe was not enough he seems threatened by a wood louse. Check it out here, rambling across my dog-hairy kitchen floor:

It is all of 7mm long. The brave hunting dog is perhaps .75m at the shoulder. What is there to scare a dog in such an itsy creature? Is this small creature giving off some primordial signals that the dog's fairly basic brain sees as a threat. Again, and this time after a long period of observing the scuttling creature followed by some cautious back stepping, he comes to stand behind me for protection.

I realise that these little things are crustaceans but can some entymologist out there tell me if there they give off some threatening smell or something which would worry a dog? Something redolent of its dinosaur past perhaps? It's quite amusing to watch his reaction but at the same time rather strange.

The Young Farmers took their panto to Whitchurch last Friday, and by the skin of their teeth pulled off a presentable performance in the drama competition. From my lofty position in the lighting box it all looked pretty good...even when our Dame, Harry, came back on stage after a costume change sans wig and was, when he realised his mistake, pretty and publicly apologetic. But heh! We were amongst friends and he brought the house down - especially when the wig was thrown on from the wings and he jammed it back on his head. We didn't get placed but two of our young people got the awards for best under 18 actors - well deserved too.

The pace of life will hopefully get back to normal...after next Saturday when the group put Jack and the Beanstalk on in the Village Hall.

Not that I shall be sitting around idly....the garden looks as if, given a bit of warmth and wet, it's about ready to burst into life. This year I am determined to keep on top of it.

I wonder.....