farm sunday

May 17, 2010

A balding of ducks – the correct collective noun? – at the farm. Know the Indian runner ducks but, blest if I can remember the other breeds . . they look quite matey together however . .

. . there are many varieties of chooks too – all bright and colourful – but far too busy and chatty – never stand still long enough to have their photo taken.  This is the door of the tennis court where there are housed over night in very well made, and comfortable coops, away from the fox. They were all very excited to show us their living quarters and they had their own boy band too (private joke)!

The sheep graze the orchards some of the time. These are old pear orchards  – Comice and Conference – which we thought were over 50 years old. Many orchards in this area are not used for their original purpose. These are beautifully kept and the sheep appreciate the pears as they drop and even climb into the trees if they can’t be bothered to wait.

Lambs are arriving at a pace now . .

. . this is a special lamb  – named Zinino and, I think, it looks as though the adoption has taken place! . . . Not sure how many lambs can claim to be named after a Brazilian footballer – especially ewes!

There are some stunning areas of woodland here. Hornbeam, chestnut and. of course oaks, with smaller stands of alder and some white poplar. It’s a gently rolling landscaping with brooks and streams curving through the lower land. The perfume from the bluebells was quite exotic and the bees thought we smelt good too, flying into our hair and clothing.

Split stem oaks soar up to the light while the base of their trunks made a wide saucer to collect rain – all quite magical. It started to get cold again as we clambered up out of the wood and we had a good old moan about the weather. Thought about this childhood poem from ‘Now We Are Six’ as memories of playing free in woods, fields and Thorndon Park flickered through my mind:

No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.

It’s flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn’t keep up with it,
Not if I ran.

But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.

And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.

So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes…
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.

 Wind on the Hill. A.A.Milne

The garden is still nicely natural – quite modest and refreshingly understated.

3 Responses to “farm sunday”

  1. Cloudier Says:

    Extremely smart jackets the sheep have on there. Climb into trees to get the pears – impressively impatient 🙂

  2. julia fogg Says:

    And I hope to be there when the jackets come off at shearing time! If those pears taste as good as the trees look, it’s understandable.

  3. […] 14, 2010 The shearer was booked at the farm but we got there too late for photos of the main […]

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