The Bomber Bees, and Daisy goes for a wander in forbidden territory.

Yesterday I was taken for a driving lesson  in the free green 1953 Dodge pick up. So I can drive it to and fro with the asparagus that will soon be popping up if the weather stays this warm!  Did I tell you that when I first went for my drivers license at age 15 in NZ, the traffic cop who took me said I was not a bad driver just not a very good one. But I received my little drivers license book all shiny and newly stamped.  I guess going for the test in my very short convent girl school uniform paid off then! 

And looking for this shot..

I found this one. Mary’s Cat wandered over after the longest daytime nap in the history of Cat and arranged himself artistically beside the daffodil.  He is calling it Spring Cat in Repose. 

I was wrong about the forsythia, the bees were two doors down in the Butterfly Garden.  The Fosythia is quiet compared to the Pussy Willow. 

The Pussy Willow is noisy with the hum of Bee Bombers. 

The little tree is literally heaving with bees. I do not know how they are avoiding collisions without any rear view mirrors. 

And every day from now until Mama presents us with her lambs (and yes this is where we all touch wood or whisper a prayer or lift our head to the sun in unison) from now until that day …

If I have to stare desperately at this Big Fat Mama every day – then so do you.  And I really do not command TonTon  to sit in every single Mama shot, he just does.  It is his job he thinks.  And Mama just humours him. She is tottering about quite merrily,  runs bouncily to me when she gets her wee portion of grain (a most unsettling sight) and is generally looking healthy, just huge.

Good morning. Last night after my bath I went out in my nightie and gumboots with the torch to check Mama as usual. Very strangely Ton was not on the mat at the kitchen door. Usually he hears the bath gurgling down the pipes and is waiting for me.  I called him, he came, but from across the field which was weird.

OK, lets go see Mama, I said and he turned and ran straight for Pat’s Paddock. TonTon I called. He came back. See Mama, I said a little louder.  Mama is not out there. I pointed in the right direction as I stepped into my gumboots, See Mama, I said again. He blinked loudly at me, and ran as fast as a whippet into  Mama’s field, past Mama then over the fence and back out into Pats Paddock. I mumbled to myself about that dog needing more training and went to the sheep’s paddock. Mama was fine.  Mia was staring after TonTon.

Then Ton barked from Pat’s Paddock. You will remember that this is the 2 acre paddock on the North Side of the barn, with all the good forage that we sowed last year. We have had it shut off all winter and now it is being left to grow until the clover and grass is at least 6 – 8 inches high.  Then it will be carefully grazed in an orderly fashion. Ton barked again. He seldom barks.

With the beam of my torch I quickly checked that Queenie and The Baby Bobby  were where they should be.  Seperate.  Yes. I could see Hairy MacLairy watching me from his side of the North fence. His white face caught in a jag of lightening from the West. Good. He and Daisy  have that small winter field out the North door of the barn. So I walked around the barn and into this area. No Daisy.  Hmm.   Maybe she had gone inside the barn. There was a flash of lightening, I stopped and counted to the rumble of thunder, the storm was 4 miles away. The tiniest breeze lifted my hair.  The scent changed.

From my right in the dark TonTon barrelled under the fence and straight to me then ran straight back out and into the dark and barked again. By then I knew that Daisy was not where she should be. By then I could see that a naughty cow had left behind evidence of part jumping, part clambering over the holding fence. I hoped she had not hurt herself.

By then I could see that there was a great big cow out in the middle of Pat’s Paddock in forbidden territory, munching on the green stuff like there was no tomorrow.  Bad Cow I said, wondering if we would get any rain out of this storm. We could do with some rain.

I trudged out through the dark, into the middle of the field, in my nightie and gumboots lit by far away flashes of sharp white lightening and inspected her with the torch.  It started to gently rain. She was fine, just bothered that maybe I was standing on a good patch of clover.  And she was not going back through the gate to the barn for anything. So I left the gate open so she did not have to jump the fence again to get to her water, and went to bed.

What if she gets hit by lightening? John said.  (The people around here are terrified of lightening). You go and bring her in then, I said as I wiped the rain into my face with my hands. She likes you.

Early, early this morning, at my 4.30 am Mama check, I called Daisy back through and shut the gate. Too much spring clover can be too much of a good thing on a winter forage belly.  The storm never came but we did get a tiny bit of rain – about a quarter of a rain barrel.   I must get a rain gauge but then it may never rain again. I can be a bit superstitious sometimes.

Good morning!

celi