Sheep, what sheep?

Here's the lane to our farmhouse from the main road (well, let's be honest, it's not a main road like the A1 is a main road, but it's the main road from the village to our house).  On the right out of sight is the gate to the camping field, straight up is the house.  Round about NOW this image should have sheep wandering up it as the blighters have escaped again!  Gggrrrrrr.

Workshop working

Only three days to go until we open for the summer camping season.  I have a list of jobs as long as both arms and a leg.  Dave is spending a whole lot of time in his workshop fixing things, pictured is his 'power tool area'.  He looks quite proud when he says it, like me showing off my carrot seedlings or presenting a home grown salad.

The field is muddy and wet so now I have to call all the campers who will arrive on Friday and remind them to pack wellingtons - is it normal to feel personally responsible for the rain?

RIP Dave

There is always a danger of naming your animals when they're destined for the pot.  However, sometimes we can't help ourselves.

In the last lot of lambs there was one pushy, bullying, greedy fellow that was always knocking the little ones off their bottles and trampling over anyone, sheep or human, in the hope of a little more milk.  So obviously we named him Dave after our own greedy, plate finisher (though I must say that Dave has never actually knocked me over to get to the last chip on my plate).

So it was with sadness this morning we discovered that Dave had died in the night.  Like some biblical warning to the danger of greediness his tum had split - this is Dave the lamb by the way not Dave the husband.  Never again will we have to hold him in a headlock to let the others finish their milk, we'll miss him.

RIP Dave

What size chicken laid that?

This is a selection of the clutch of eggs collected this morning.  Lovely petite olive and blue eggs from our fancy chicken friends, dark glossy speckled eggs from the Marans and something which although it was found in a nesting box, is surely not a hen's egg?

Well of course it is, we have a couple of larger feathered chickens who not only lay like clockwork everyday but have a propensity to the double yolker - when you hear violent, crazed, squawking coming from the hen house it's a sprint to be the first there to pluck out the huge warm egg and heading back to the house to make a fried egg sandwich.  Happy easter indeed.

Meet the family (2)

The Berridon big cat, camouflaged against the famous Berridon weeds.  There she strides up the broken stairs, little Rosie.  Blythe's kitten and the most adorable cat.  Loved by all, even Dave, who will tell anyone who mentions the C word "I hate cats".

The library

OK, not so much a library more of a box with books in.  But every year I try and get together a selection of books that the campers can borrow.  It's not as easy as you'd think to try and get books to cover every taste.  So we have everything from Dorothy Parker to Stephen King, from Paul Auster to Barbara Trapido.  There's a bit of Walter de la Mare and a couple of Mary Wesley's.  There's Camus and Harlan Corben.  And there snuggled in the middle is a nice bit chunk of chic lit.

Last year the box, ahem I mean library, grew as campers left everything from Jeffrey Archer (yes really) to Sadie Jones, let's see what comes of this year's visitors - will it be Mollie Panter-Downes or Dan Brown?

Know your onions

Spent a calm hour this weekend sat in the sunshine picking over the trays of stored onions and shallots.  Last year's harvest was mammoth, at one point in sunny August I had three large wire panels strewn with hundreds of bulbs in the courtyard.  Any which looked slightly soft around the neck were eaten straight away as this is a good indicator that they won't keep.  The rest were stored in trays on my vegetable rack in the farm pantry, which is a cool airy building which doubles as the camp site information and storage room during the summer.

So this weekend I checked the harvest, trimmed any leftover wiry roots and peeled off the top muddy layers of papery skin to reveal the rich colour of the onions and shallots.