Night …

The Matriarch and I went out to the town yesterday.  We seldom go to town and I was home late. Well, 4.30pm but  the winter dark comes early. No-one minded. No animals minded anyway. They all eat hay and there was plenty of that left out for them to munch during the day.

Sheila was up on her pins again.

Doing the chores on a moonless night with no wind is kind of charming actually.

I have never been afraid of the dark. In fact I kind of like it. It is like an airport, teeming with activity but you feel anonymous and unseen. Ghosting your way through the avenues of air. Even when I am walking through the house in the night to put wood on the fire, or refill my glass with cold water- I never turn on lights. I pretend I have a secret radar that can guide me through the rooms and as long as SOMEONE does not drop his shoes right in the middle of the room, I can navigate smoothly. Maybe I am getting a little old for this game but there is no-one there to SEE is there?

It is the same on the farm. I walk through the fields and around the barn, listening carefully for where the animals are. Moving confidently through the dark using my memory as my eyes. And there is always a little sound. And as I am quite deaf in one ear, from a long ago smack to the head, I actually do cock my head and lean forward slightly to hear. Down, I will say, the sound gliding down as soft as a cotton thread, to the dogs. My voice drifting down to my feet where they drop their bellies to the ground. Boo always touching my foot. Boo is always watching me.  Ton always has his head directed straight at the animal in question.  Watching the stock. Even when I have not told him who the animal we are questing for is. He is watching her.

Wait, I say. And we are all still – listening. Sometimes the animal I am checking on also stands still and listens and as my eyes clear I will see Aunty Del not far ahead, stock  still, head on the side – listening to ME breathe. Her eyes liquid as she slowly blinks.

Or Sheila her ear askew, watching me with her grey shining eye. Sheila has grey eyes. Poppy has dark  brown ones, did you ever notice that?

I  can stand for a long time in the dark and just feel what is happening, listening with my skin and my ears. I bet you can too. Moving in the darkness unseen is an old ancient trick. It is in our memory somewhere. ‘Under the cover of darkness.’

The dark has a seamless quality. No end or beginning.  Like snow that blankets everything white, night recreates everything equal into the dark.  Making small spaces huge. Tiny insect sounds become loud. The images are indistinct, misty.

Often the animals go out to graze in the dark. Not the pigs or the birds. But the cows and the sheep can be heard ripping up the frozen grass, chewing, swallowing, stepping. Especially on nights like last night, where everything is still and cool.

Sometimes I don’t want to go back inside – into the light, where I am exposed. Where I have to put on my INVOLVED face. Sometimes I would like to stay outside, hunkered down in the dark. Unseen. Unthinking. Just still.

Good morning. The sun tried yesterday but never made it. Maybe I will have to go to New Zealand to see some sun.

Tomorrow we are going to hitch up the stock trailer and pick up Queenie our beautiful Hereford cow. She has been with the bull for two full cycles now and she showed no signs of coming back into heat this week. Which is a good sign. So home she will come.  She might be bred. God and all the angels willing. Keep touching wood though. I have contacted the Lady Vet and hopefully in the next few weeks she will take blood and we will see.

I hope you all have a lovely day. A lovely day.

Your friend on the farmy

celi