Working alone on the farmy

Working alone on a farm has its challenges and its dangers.  Though you would not know that there are any hidden dangers from the little collection of images we see today.  And the little farm is managed in a low tech sustainable manner so my use of machinery is kept to a minimum. My tractor only drives at about 2 miles an hour, the mower has not been used that much in this dry summer and the most commonly used tools are a hammer and my little bone handled fish knife that lives stuck in a crack in a post in the barn. But the hazards are there. And no-one within shouting distance.

My most important safety tool is probably my cell phone. But I am always carrying a camera instead. The phone keeps getting forgotten, or I lose it, then find it, then leave it in the house or the car or by the bed or I have no pocket in my farm skirt or when I do it is a heavy lump when I crouch down and I pull it out and dump it somewhere. 

Viv my poet friend who you will have seen commenting every day with sharp wit and such knowledge, has made me a little bag to wear so that I can now carry my phone everywhere with me with now. She is an Englishwoman living in France so it is already being called the French Baggie.  

And what a bonus to finally be carrying my phone and my good pocket knife and my notebook and pen. Leaving my hand free for my camera. Yesterday I received a txt from my son as he revolved slowly above London on the London Eye. Another txt from a friend who needed four dozen eggs and could she pick them up right now and a call from Our John at work to see what I needed from town. All calls I would normally have missed. 

I slipped from a ladder yesterday while clearing gutters but caught myself.  I picked up a super full of honey  and bees that was heavier than any I had ever lifted before and I was standing awkwardly.  I put my foot into the hole in the loft floor, while throwing down hay, that I knew was there but had forgotten about. I opened a reluctant gate, with sheep hard on my heels and it crashed into my shin, sending us all jumping backward.  I am working around old untrustworthy buildings, jogging from one job to the next in an environment when anything can happen. But I had my phone with me this time.

An injury with no phone handy would result in a long wait for someone to notice. But all day yesterday I had this little hand-made peacock coloured fabric bag tied snugly to my hip.  It is so comfortable that it is easy to forget, slides through the gates and up the ladders with me, was inspected for hazards by the guard bees, and when I stumbled in the barn loft the bag remained in place ready for anything.  We all need to take responsibility for our own safety.  I am the worst for thinking “She’ll be right, Mate!”  A phrase I grew up with. Time to behave and take control.

Thank you ViV. Thank you.

Good morning.  I will be going at top speed this morning as after my chores and the school run, I have to deliver my little cooking oil car to the workshop in a big city I am unfamiliar with.  With my little  French Baggie tucked into my seldom used handbag.

On my trip to the city, through miles of farmland, I will be on the look out for those old fashioned mid west chicken coops.  They have a roofline  shape I have decided will be just perfect for the Gingerbread house. I will take a shot of one for you so you can see what I mean. They belong in this landscape.

You all have a lovely day.

celi

On this day last year. Daisy gets lost in the cornfield. Such a funny story.