On the few warm days that we have had so far, Marcel has gone out into his pen within the sheep’s enclosure. Much to my delight he is never alone and it is Minty who is always with him. I thought it would be Mama who would take over grandmotherly duties but it is Auntie Minty who stands over him while he sleeps and watches while he eats. He still comes in to sleep in the barn at night though. But the days he spends outside with his family feel good and right.
Paisley Daisy is still a Cow in Waiting. Her udder is now officially at her knees. She and I had a long session with the brush yesterday afternoon. She just stood and soaked it up. Moving back and forth and occasionally bringing her dragons head slowly sweeping down her full body right around to where the brush was for a cheek scratch. She was up and down a bit all day but still very calm. And look at this udder.
Also you will see that one side is higher than the other. The shorter side is the quarter that was badly damaged with last years mastitis. I will have to work very hard to keep her in tip-top health.
Sheila had a delightful day in the melting mud. This winter has been hard on our pig so it was great to see her being able to dig joyfully again.
Marmalade cannot be kept inside, (though he and all the cats are brought inside at night) he is a tree cat and climbs very high, while Boo watches from below. They have taken to sleeping together again on the verandah in the afternoon sun.
The next few days we are cold again. And very windy. I know I am not the only one who could just SPIT. But there you are, no point complaining about the weather, may as well rage against breath itself.
Last night I checked Daisy a few times, leaving the dogs inside, dressing gown over my nightie, my big work jacket on top, bare feet in gumboots. Walking as softly as a cat through the dark barn so as not to wake Alarm Bell Marcel. The full moon catching glimpses through the windows and door cracks of my wild hair and sleepy eyes, hands deep in pockets, legs shining winter white through blown gaps in my night clothes. Wind pitched to whip outside.
Upon entering the dark barn, I pause, go very still and smell the barn, checking each scent off a mental list, inhaling any change, smelling for a stranger, a new comer and I listen hard to each breath over the wind. Queenie is developing a snore, Daisy’s click and groan as she rolls, Sheila makes a low grunt deep in her bed. A chicken rustles his feathers against his bedmate, clucking gently, peering from below his wing. I take my little torch from my jacket pocket, after sifting through the knives and nails, wire and string, pieces of worn glass and feathers, clips and hooks, a broken dog leash and a pen and tiny notebook – all the things one would expect to find in a farmers pocket. Identifying each piece by feel until I find the long metal cylinder that brings light. I turn the tiny light on and aim it at the floor like the girl at the movies and in the reflected light I watch Daisy for a while, then I go to the next pen and watch Queenie. It is quiet and warm, a little precious oasis. That evening I had shut each pen door, a cold wind was howling and the coyotes were howling back. Both cows and the sheep, Marcel and Sheila, were all shut into the barn so if there had been a calf born between my visits he would not be in a howling draft. I watch and listen and smell. Leaning on the gates, more at home in this great shaking beaten up raggedy old building by myself with my animals in the middle of another cold blown night than anywhere else in the world. The dark holds no threat for me here.
Satisfied that there was no imminent change. That all was as it should be. That now is not the time for change. I place the darkened torch and my hands back into my heavy crowded pockets, retreat back through the corridors of the barn in the dark, and lit by a beam of moon shafting through the clouds, like a spotlight in an empty theater just for me, I turn back for the house and follow the light, pushing through the hurtling air, back to bed.
Good morning.
I hope you all have lovely day.
At the 4am check this morning all was well.. I wonder what today will bring. It is almost dawn, off out I go again to start work.
your friend on the farmy
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
54 responses to “Marcel’s Auntie”
Marmalade and Boo are truly adorable together 🙂 Such great photos and stories, Celi, I really enjoy following your adventures. Thank you for taking us on your nightly escapades.
C. you need a baby monitor! Ha! Yes, I too voted for today but not if it is howling, spitting cold out there..Ugh! Old man winter is hanging on for dear life isn’t he? But his days are numbered! Ah, sweet Minty…that’s what aunties are for…And how sweet that Marmelade and Boo can still cuddle together although I’m wondering…does he sleep standing up…that box looks a little small for him! 🙂
Oh he does fit, but sat up when I came out the door with the camera, you can see marmalade holding onto this foot! so sweet.. c
We felt like we were walking thru that barn with you, could even smell the smells you smelled! Boo & Marmalade know where to keep warm. Marcel is still so cute. Glad he has “family” to watch over him.
Nothing is more peaceful and contented than the inside of a snug barn at night. The sounds of animals sleeping or quietly chewing and munching. Soft grunts and nickers and sleepy eyes. So happy that Marcel the Happy has founds his Auntie…..one of his own kind. Gentle Daisy is humming softly to herself and her calf now. The waiting is almost over. All are safe and warm in your care, Celi.
Do you ever sleep? I so much admire the way you look after your animal family, and look forward every day to the updates. Thank you.
You make this self sufficient life sound so delightful, in spite of the long hours and hard physical work. I do enjoy reading your thoughtful, heart warming posts.
Sydney’s summer nights have quietly departed, and the summer days have been given notice by March thunderstorms. So they must be on their way.
Your blog is so lovely. Having just come in from the cold windy frozen tundra that is our farm as well, I can think of no gentle words to describe the hostile winter that we have experienced. Such a disappointment today to be frozen again, after just getting a bit of snow melt under our belts. I feel and share your frustration with the weather, however I am lacking in the ability (and motivation) to shine it up for public consumption. Your gift with words is breathtaking. Such a pleasure, thank you.
Agreed Sue, there is no way to shine up this dark blanket of cold that has been sitting over our heads for so long, hoping we can start breathing some warm air soon.. (really hoping!!) .. c
Oh, that poor dear Daisy girl. Hoping the birthing comes in a bit more warmth. Cold here today as well, with a stiff wind blowing, BUT, the daffodils are poking through. Hope.
just waiting here…:)
we are good at waiting.. c
Nothing better than sitting with friends in warm afternoon sun.
That Daisy! Waiting…waiting…waiting
i think i would like a stall in your barn. i am getting nervous waiting for the births. i hope they go smoothly. marmalade and boo are the perfect example of love, trust and tolerance.
The barn does sound peaceful and home-y.
what a wonderful atmospheric piece about your living breathing great old barn. It was very moving and beautiful Celi, quite apart from the sweetness of all your precious creatures all minding each other…your vision of life, and the life lived around you is both poetic and earthy and utterly inspiring.thank you thank you XX
How are nuns coping with the melting ice ????
What lessons for a city girl! Did not know a cow could have such an udder. And still smile at how all the animals have adopted your own Dr Doolittle ways: Minty and Marcel, Boo and Marmalade . . . . We had all our St Paddy’s Day celebrations and parades yesterday . . . now let’s see whether all the members of the Fellowship who voted for that to be a farmy birthday were correct! Hope the weather not too foull, hope you get the chance to get some hours of sleep . . .