A Definition of Madness

They say (though I am still not sure who They are)  that one definition of madness is to keep doing the same thing expecting a different result.  Hoping that by repetition one might magically break through and achieve success.

So when, once again, I fluffed up the rows on the rained-on dried-out hay and once again it threatened to rain just as John came home from work on the one day it was dry that week which was the one day he chanced to get off work on time, and once again the knotter would not knot and once again a huge black cloud blew in to match his mood and threw rain straight at the field, and once again there was fury in the fields and once again the drive shaft broke (but worse than last time) resulting in apoplexy.

So we decided that t it might be better to get someone with more time and a better machine to do the baling. And drag this baler out to the big workshop and give it an overhaul. Then once John joins the farm fulltime we can make hay when the sun shines, not on the one afternoon he has free when the sun never shines. Sheila above nodded solemnly as she followed us in. She likes things to be calm.

You would not believe how much happier John was when we made this decision.  I had not realised how personally he was taking the failure to get the hay crop in. There is just too much luck involved.  And life is too short. Full  time work and full time hay baling do not mix in a rainy summer.

The breeder has given me the number of a man who bales out this way, so I will call him and see if he can add our fields to his rounds.

Thank you for my best wishes and time off. I had  lovely successful trip to Chicago. Having a day off with a train ride there and back, to do some thinking and some planning, made all the difference to the muddle in my brain.

Good morning. Here is a wee update on farm life.

• The pea hen is still sitting atop her eggs and by my reckoning there should be wee chick-peas fighting their way out of shells in the next few days.
• Daisy is still calm and showing no signs of being anything other than pregnant. Fingers still crossed and touching a plank of real wood.(Difficult, I know, but do your best!)  Her milk production has dropped significantly and I will dry her up in the next few days. (Thank goodness)
• Number Eight has gone to piggy heaven  which was a blessing for the wee chap. The other piglets have discovered their new creep run and as that is the only area with straw they burrow in there and sleep safely. So there have been no more stepping incidents. If I do decide to have more piglets I will always have a side room for the piglets to escape into. A hard lesson but a good one. Thank you Number Nine and Number Eight.
• The builders have come to their last official day and though I will miss the constant company of the Kiwi Builder I am looking forward to the quiet and being able to wear whatever I like. Some of my raggedy farm clothes are not appropriate when one has company. The painting and trim are not finished but these are two local men who will do that work  at a country pace to give me a break.
• Today The Tall Teenager and I will go out with forks and man handle the last few rows of sopping hay right off that field. It will go into one of my recovering fields and I shall give Sheila and the chickens the job of  covering the field and helping it to compost out there.

And who made this hole in the door? Well, the chooks swear it was Sheila the Maiden Aunt. She is doing a Linus and wanders about the farm, dragging her imaginary blankie,  looking for a new place to sleep every afternoon.  And she is a big overly friendly pig. So I think they might be telling me the truth for once, as you know chickens can make up some pretty wild stories. She cannot reach the nesting boxes so if I don’t get to repair this before I go away it really does not matter.  We are going to run a fairly loose ship with tight fences  over the four days that I am away.

There now. Good morning. All is well. It is quiet out on the farmy this morning. The only sounds are the birds chirping and peeping expectantly as they move about the trees, collecting pockets full of fresh cool morning air. It is cloudy and rained again. Ah well. I have some fields of lovely forage.

You all have a lovely day. See you tomorrow.

Your friend, celi